August 21, 1998
Molson Amphitheatre, Toronto, Aug 19, 1998

There seem to be certain unpleasant rites of passage for rock critics, whether it's being repeatedly stood up for phone interviews, unable to file stories from remote locales or having to go to a nostalgia rock act show that, given your druthers, you would rather take a pass on.

So imagine my surprise on Wednesday night when I was dragged down to Deep Purple at the Molson Amphitheatre (by a rather excited boyfriend who still remembers unwrapping the plastic on the band's 1972 album Machinehead when it was released) and wound up enjoying myself.

Truth be told, opening act Emerson, Lake & Palmer -- those '70s prog-rockers of Lucky Man fame -- started to grate after awhile, despite the impressive sight of two large gongs behind drummer Carl Palmer and the trio's mindbending loud sound, which had the amphitheatre seats vibrating.

After a promising start with Welcome Back My Friends To The Show That Never Ends, notorious hambone keyboardist Keith Emerson just couldn't help himself as he trotted out the pyrotechnics during the second song, Hoedown, sparks flying from a portable keyboard.

Emerson, who had a wall of circuitry behind his keyboards that might have had NASA engineers shaking their heads, wound up lying face-down on top of his piano by the end of the group's hour-and-fifteen-minute set.

Maybe he was tired. He had, after all, indulged in several over-the-top keyboard solos, during which my mind wandered off to such profound thoughts as: "I wonder if I left the water in the kitchen sink on before we left the apartment?"

Deep Purple, on the other hand, wasted no time in getting to the good stuff and keeping the crowd of 7,000 riveted for their entire hour-and-a-half show.

Bathed in purple lights -- you were maybe expecting yellow? -- and fronted by bongo-playing lead singer Ian Gillan, the tight-sounding foursome launched their performance with their 1966 hit Hush.

Gillan, looking more like he was ready for a yoga session rather than hard rock antics, in a loose-fitting black ensemble of tank top, pants and slippers, didn't disappoint in the vocal department, unlike his contemporary Robert Plant at the amphitheatre last month.

Flanked by bassist Roger Glover, founding band members Jon Lord on keyboards and Ian Paice on drums, and new guitarist Steve Morse, Gillan proved he still has the goods with his trademark, high-pitched wail punctuating both new songs from the band's latest album, Abandon, and older classics like My Woman From Toyko.

The band waited almost a full hour before trotting out their anthem -- and arguably one of the greatest hard rock songs of all time -- Smoke On The Water, which prompted air guitars all around and a full-scale singalong by the crowd. (The irony that I was hearing this song in concert for the first time in 1998, 30 years after the band formed, was not lost on me.)

Gillan, who smiled, waved and gave the thumbs-up to the audience, was fighting throat problems (he frequently disappeared from the stage -- my guess is to gargle), which made his vocal powers all the more impressive.

One group of ardent fans held up a banner which read: "Gillan for Prime Minister."

That's doubtful given that Gillan, who also celebrated his 53rd birthday on Wednesday night, is currently "living on the sea in England," and has a charter fishing boat "for relaxation."

His 14-year-old daughter, Grace, is even out on tour with dear old dad, who still knows how to rock, God bless him.

JAM! Rating: 4.5 out of 5