The result of our trip to Trident studios ended up being rather good. “Shadows” sounded suitably moody and heavy (although this term was not yet in musical use), and we had a decent attempt at “Love Help Me” with Ritchie excelling with the wah-wah pedal, although we ran out of time before the vocals could be added. We were each given an acetate recording of both tracks which we played to death, convinced that we had a new sound!
The deal offered by Derek Lawrence was coming together. A new American label called Tetragrammaton had been formed by several experienced record men, together with top U.S. comedian Bill Cosby. They were aiming to launch a new group which had to be British, probably to capitalise on the “English Invasion” which had proved so successful over the last few years. Hopefully we, with Derek’s help, would be it!
It was generally agreed that my Marshall 50 watt amp and Ritchie’s Vox AC 30 were not going to be loud enough for the sound that we intended, so I suggested that we all take a trip to Jim Marshall’s new factory at Bletchley, and see what was on offer. Having arranged a time with Terry Marshall we all set off for the factory, passing through the embryonic new town Milton Keynes on the way.
I parked the car outside Jim’s industrial unit and we stepped out to be met with a barrage of jeers and abuse from the windows of the adjacent factory, where some of the workers seemed to be offended by our long hair and general appearance. Rod Evans immediately demonstrated his ability to deal with hecklers. “Do you drive a car like this?” he said, pointing at the Jaguar. “No, I thought not, now get back to work!”. Our detractors soon slunk away from the windows and we carried on to meet Jim Marshall, who agreed to manufacture the more powerful amplifiers and a big PA system that we needed.
Before the equipment arrived, however, the question of a new Hammond organ for Jon came up, as his current instrument was not really good enough. To get the necessary sounds he also needed a Leslie speaker cabinet which gave a very distinctive sound due to its rotating horn. The equipment was sourced on the South Coast near Brighton, and so Jon and I motored down to check it out. As we sat in London traffic we were spotted by a city gent who delightfully pointed us out to his female companion, saying “Look darling – pop stars!”, much to our amusement. As we headed towards Brighton, Jon insisted that we “do the ton”, whooping with delight as we passed the 100 m.p.h. figure on the dash.
A few days later the new organ and speaker arrived at Deeves Hall, and we carried on with the serious business of rehearsing. Ritchie and I had briefly heard a song called “Hush” which had been a U.S. hit for Billy Joe Royal, and we both thought it was worth using in our act. By now my pal Rod Freeman was working at the Top Rank Ballroom in Watford, fronting the Ronnie Smith Band. The Rank chain of venues were flourishing all over the country where 6-8 piece groups would perform standard songs and covers of the latest hits to mostly teenage audiences who packed the dance floors nightly. I decided to telephone Rod to see if he played “Hush” in their set, to which he replied that they did! He then agreed to come to Deeves Hall on his night off, in order to teach us the song. Little did we know when Rod arrived with his guitar, that this was a pivotal moment in the short history of Deep Purple!
By the end of the evening we had cobbled together a unique version of a song which only two of us had heard before and which bore no resemblance to the original. Rod Freeman had patiently helped us to create a totally different sound and deserves our thanks in helping to deliver the hit record that was to launch Deep Purple to the top! This was, of course, the first time that Rod had heard Ian Paice play, and was quick to say, as he left for home, “that’s a great drummer, another Johnny Mitchell”.
As the days wore on we managed to get the semblance of a show together, including “Hush” and an instrumental version of “Paint It Black”, which was a great vehicle for a lengthy drum solo. Ritchie and I thought that the visual aspect was important, and drawing particularly on our experience with Screaming Lord Sutch and the Savages, we practised synchronising exaggerated hip movements together in front of a mirror, much to the amusement of the others.
One night, as Jon and I lay in our beds, we discussed the subject of where to make our debut. Jon suggested that Denmark could be good, as both the Flowerpot Men and the Artwoods had enjoyed huge success there, and so resolved to telephone an agent he know in Copenhagen the following day.
Walter Klaebel at the Danish Music Centre was extremely enthusiastic at the prospect and so began discussions with John Coletta to arrange a short tour. Also at this time HEC arranged a photo session for us; unfortunately (for us), it was held at an early hour, resulting in a very tired group posing rather unenthusiastically for the camera. According to the Deep Purple Biography, we were dressed in fancy clothes from the Mr. Fish boutique, but in fact this was prior to our trip to Mr. Fish and we were dressed in our normal street clothes, with the exception of Jon. I lent him a shirt given to me by Bobby Woodman, who in turn was given it by Johnny Halliday. Although we didn’t enjoy the shoot, one picture seemed to work and was to become the chosen shot for the front of our very first album.
Meanwhile, our rehearsals continued with new enthusiasm as the prospect of playing to a real audience grew closer. With the Danish gigs arranged, it was decided to visit Mr. Fish, the high-class boutique near London’s Saville Row, where we were measured up for original stage clothes, at great expense!
At the same time, Jon had the brilliant idea of staging an “open day” at Deeves Hall for our parents and relatives, in order to show them what we were up to. One Sunny afternoon the house was suitably scrubbed up, with a table laden with tea, cakes and sandwiches for our guests. Our equipment was dragged from the rehearsal room and re-assembled in the larger living room in order that we could give a short concert.
During the afternoon most of our parents, Ritchie’s brother and grandmother and Ian’s sister arrived to be given a tour of the house and grounds, followed by a demonstration of our new music which left them in various stages of temporary deafness! As our guests departed, everyone agreed that the open day had been a great success!
Soon the day arrived in late April 1968 when we boarded a boat named the Winston Churchill and departed for Denmark, with all our new equipment loaded into a new trunk driven by John’s friend Dave Jacobs, accompanied by our new addition to the road crew, Ian Hansford. On the boat we discovered that HEC Enterprises had booked our debut tour using the name “Roundabout”, which pleased nobody except our management!
During the voyage Ritchie and I were interviewed by a Danish journalist who asked about our influences. Ritchie, true to form, claimed his admiration for the great “Ted Babbage Folk Four” and the “Wally Thud Trio”, all meticulously noted down. Finally we rather sheepishly discussed our new name, and the journalist became probably the very first to write the name “Deep Purple” in his notebook, Ritchie and I looking on with slightly red faces!
On arriving at Esbjerg we then travelled to Copenhagen where we were greeted by Walter Klaebel and given our itinerary, which included a TV spot, lip-synching to “Help” and “Love Help Me”, to which Rod, Jon and myself had recently added vocals (later to be lost forever!). Walter appeared to have done a good promotional job, getting press coverage before and after the gigs, being easily able to sell us on our past success. He also supplied us with a huge American car which was an added bonus.
On the evening of April 20th we arrived at a large hall in the town of Tastrup, prepared for our debut. To say that we were nervous would be an understatement, but Ritchie was absolutely terrified, desperately asking myself and Jon to remind him of opening chords and keys. When the moment came that the curtains opened, to reveal the five of us, dressed in the finest clothes that we could muster, all hell seemed to break loose! The crowd seemed really enthusiastic and up for it as we ploughed through our handful of songs at breakneck speed. All efforts at musical cohesion seemed to collapse as we put as much effort as possible into gyrating around the stage, trying to put on a big show.
Luckily, the crowd loved it and responded beyond our wildest dreams! Back in the dressing room we congratulated ourselves on getting away with it, whilst the rest of our team seemed to agree that it was a great first performance. Tired, but very happy, we prepared to leave to go back to Copenhagen. I took a visit to the toilet before leaving, only to come out and find that everyone had left without me! Being stuck in a strange town, not remembering the name of our hotel, I was extremely lucky to grab a free lift from a passing cabby who somehow managed to track down where I needed to be. Naturally, I had a few choice words for the others, who claimed that they could not find me. However we soon made up over a few beers, happy in the knowledge that we had got over the major hurdle of our first gig.
The rest of our time in Denmark resulted in more successful gigs. We spent our leisure time at Copenhagen’s Star Club, where I had enjoyed hanging out during the Flowerpot Men days and where we rubbed shoulders with other up and coming bands such as Fleetwood Mac, Ten Years After and Jeff Beck’s group.
It was a very tired but happy band of musicians who arrived back in England. Flushed with our success, and convinced that we had a lot to offer, we were ready to take on the next challenge – our very first album. Our management were already ahead of the game, though. The U.S. record deal was on, Deeves Hall was vacated and we were swiftly moved to the Sussex countryside. With the recording studio booked, the hard work was about to get harder…..
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