Deep Purple
Review of The Concerto for Group and Orchestra
Royal Albert Hall 25 & 26 September 1999
How do you find words to describe an experience that is for once in a lifetime, to be cherished, taken out occasionally and examined tentatively? Entering the Albert Hall is awe inspiring in itself. I had never been before and, probably never will again, and, even if I do, it can never come close to this. Saturday I was in row 4, centre, end of row so no problems with the view, just feet away from the stage.
So, the Orchestra enter and tune up and the conductor, Paul Mann appears and they’re off. Sir Malcolm Arnold can’t be there, he is not well enough which is sad but he sent a kind message. The London Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Paul Mann , play Sir Malcolm Arnold’s 4 Scottish Dances which are filled with gaiety, humour and poignancy by turns, an excellent choice. Paul introduces Jon Lord to a standing ovation (which all the guests receive) and two songs from Pictured Within which Paul says is one of the most beautiful pieces of music he has ever heard. And it is that for me too. Miller Anderson (Pictured Within) is superb. Wait a While is heart-rending with Sam Brown’s lovely natural, liquid voice and Jon’s sensitive piano. If you have not heard this album, get it.
Then Roger’s turn and Butterfly Ball and, suddenly Ronnie James Dio is on
stage, frail and tiny as ever, Paicey on drums, Steve on guitar, Eddie Hardin on piano. Sitting in a Dream is delightful, and Love is All has us all joining in. They seem thrilled at our reaction. Roger, lean and almost tall in green crushed-velvet waistcoat and bandana. Steve dressed in subdued, smart grey trousers and blue shirt. This is the man I was really curious to see. I somehow managed to miss the last 4 years. CDs and videos cannot compare.
Next Ian with Via Miami (Accidentally on Purpose) and That’s Why God is Singing the Blues (Dreamcatcher). Ian is wearing a long, white Nehru shirt (looks like it has just come out of the packet, I am quite happy to do your ironing Ian) white trousers and a gold jacket, more via Las Vegas than Miami, which is flung at Paicey after the first song. Voice in good shape, he looks fitter and slimmer than on Total Abandon.
Then Ian introduces very simply ‘our guitarist’ the affection and the message are clear. Steve belongs and they are very glad about it. The Steve Morse Band perform Night Meets Light and Take it off the Top with the Orchestra who, along with the conductor, seem enthralled by Steve’s mastery. Whoever is not playing is watching in awe. Steve’s Led Zep quotes raise a laugh or several thousand. To my amazement I recognize the second tune as the Friday Rock Show theme. So Steve had insinuated his way into my memory already. I can’t take my eyes off this man. He is superb, humour, genius, technical expertise, and so much feeling. And that famous smile. But Steve is not the only talent in the SMB. He has a great bass player (Dave LaRue) and drummer (Van Romaine) who both look very young, and they work so well together. Fortunately Dave’s long, thick, blond hair does not impede his playing too often!!!
The first ‘haf ‘ as Steve pronounces it in his intro with an almost embarrassed
pause as if he hears his American accent for the first time) is brought to a rapid fire close by the impromptu Ian Paice ‘band’ with a jazzy Wring that Neck, featuring the Kick Horns. What more can you say.
The interval and a chance to chat to other fans. People have come from all over the world, Scandinavia has a large representation, South Americans, Japanese, German, Dutch. There must be many coming to both nights as I am fortunate to do. All different age groups, classical music fans, the whole range is there.
9 p.m. and The Concerto at last. Sadly a disrespectful element shouts for Highway Star and Black Night. Fine, we all do but we came for the Concerto. They get started eventually and it is sensational. This is a great piece of music anyway, made even greater now. Timing is perfect and I think my heart is going to stop when the band make their intro. Dare I mention Steve again. He is taking this so seriously. Whatever the pressure was like for him all it has done is make him better. When he is not playing he is following the music, fingers working non stop. Always ready for his cue, he brings the whole thing to life. As they all do, but I don’t need to say anything about the others. You know to expect miracles.
The start of the second movement is ruined by more interruptions from some drunk fools. How can they? Jon, visibly shaken, stops them. with ‘we just want to play some music here’ and says that they will get their r’n’r later. We applaud his words. How must he feel? The atmosphere is broken briefly but soon recaptured. Ian makes his entrance after a few minutes - a mistake I think as inevitably he gets applause. I hope they change that tomorrow. I think we all accept the movements will be broken by applause which may annoy the purists
but you can’t help it. At some point Ian takes a white tape from inside his shirt to divide the seat he shares with Steve when he is not singing and dares Steve to venture across it. The shade of Ritchie is there. They exchange words occasionally and look happy with what is happening.
Ian’s solo, perhaps a little hesitant but soon gets going. Not the ethereal version of '69 but the Ian of today. More power. I had particularly hoped to finally get all the words as I am still not sure of them and of course neither is Ian :-) But I am none the wiser about the line that has been transcribed as ‘Looks on my head cannot get the message through.’. Is it really that? I think this is a f aster version of the Concerto than 69’s. I loved it. Hugs and kisses all round. Tumultuous applause.
Then Ted the Mechanic, Sometimes I feel like Screaming (Oh Steve that guitar - you are tearing me apart) and Watching the Sky, all with Orchestra of course.
Then a real treat with Pictures of Home which Ian says he has always wanted to do with an orchestra and never expected to. It is very moving. Do I need to say more, you know what they are like in full flow. I still can’t get over how they have been revitalised over the last few years and how passionate they all seem about what they are doing.
All too soon it’s the finale, Smoke on the Water with the SMB et al, and Ronnie James Dio incredibly alternating verses with Ian. Much as I admire Ronnie the juxtaposition on stage is somewhat unfavourable; he is a pale shade compared with Ian, but this may have been down to nerves. He has to be shown the words by Ian too which is hilarious. But it is tremendous and everyone is singing of course and all too soon it is over and, despite our best efforts - my hands still hurt - they will not come back. Well Ian did eventually, seeming very moved by our reaction, and explaining that they really are finished and Jon is being sick in the toilet.
Sunday is different: warnings about ensuring mobile phones and pagers are switched off as this is being recorded, the audience quieter but still very receptive. Ronnie starts out flat, Ian plods through That’s Why God is Singing the Blues, Love is All is not quite the event it was the night before. Ian misses his cue on the Concerto (How shall I know when to start singing my song - well Ian how indeed? - but he is ‘oh so cool!) though he does come on earlier than the night before and there is no audience interruption, no white tape and no expectation of an encore. My seat is in the stalls and I feel miles away. But it was all still magic.
Well that is it. The CD has the songs out of order and the video cannot capture the emotion, but they are still wonderful. I wish they had filmed both nights. Saturday was better but then it was all fresh for me and I had a better seat so was totally involved. Sunday I had a distracting sea of audience between me and the band.
I can’t believe I was there with them. They transported me to realms I didn’t know existed. May it never end. I shall treasure my signed programme, ticket and Roger Glover signature guitar pick for ever. In fact they can bury/cremate them with me and I know what they can play at my funeral.
