Eight years prior to my latest rousing of Roger I’d had the good fortune of seeing Deep Purple in concert,
playing at the former boxing/wrestling venue in Melbourne, Festival Hall on May 2nd, 2010.
At the time my good buddy Michelangelo was living in Queensland, and had not only got a ticket to the Brisbane show but also managed to secure a “Guest Pass”. I have been sworn to secrecy over how this was acquired. All I will say is it was the result of a long and dedicated fandom and providing useful assistance to the moderator of a popular DP website.
I meanwhile had purchased tickets for Dilbert and me to the Festival Hall gig later that week, but was of course very keen to find out all about the Brisbane show from Michelangelo, and particularly his backstage experience.
After the show Michelangelo called me, raving about it of course, and then emailed me some pictures of him with Ian Gillan, Steve Morse, Roger Glover and Don Airey.
I showed the pictures to Dilbert and his head just about exploded! I don’t know why, but Dilbert just assumed that if Michelangelo got a Guest Pass then surely we could too. I’d never seen him so excited. He’ll deny this black and blue but his eyes were spinning in his head just like they used to do when he was a toddler and he’d had a sip of Coca Cola.
I tried to settle him down, telling him that we didn’t have Guest Passes; we were just going to the show. Michelangelo got backstage because he had connections. We were utterly disconnected.
That was until a fantastic set of circumstances unfolded, lined up and fell into place, by pure fluke and coincidence – and just a little schmoozing up to Michelangelo’s connections – and Passes were organized for Dilbert and me! I was to collect them at the ticket box on the night of the show.
I’d love to tell you exactly how I secured them, but, y’know… then I’d have to kill you.
On the night of the concert we arrived at Festival Hall. I had brought with me a clip board and a sharpie pen. I told Dilbert I wanted to write down the order of the songs they performed so I wouldn’t forget.
We mingled amongst the crowd for a few minutes before I told Dilbert to wait while I went to the mensroom.
I snuck stealthily to the ticket window outside, gave my name and the secret handshake, and was given two round, green stickers with a number and those magic words “Deep Purple GUEST”.
I slipped them into my pocket, eager to keep them a secret from Dilbert. He had come around to the notion that we were only there for the music, not for any meet and greets, though the images of Michelangelo with the band still teased him rather cruelly.
At the end of the show we hung about a bit, and actually got to chat with a couple of the guys from the support band Electric Mary.
I kept an eye out for the lucky green sticker wearers and where they were congregating, and pointed them out to Dilbert.
“Look over there, Dil. Those are the people with the Guest Passes. See, they’ve all got those green stickers like Uncle Mike’s.”
Darn!” Dilbert lamented. “Wish I knew how they’d gotten ‘em.”
I said, “Look, I’m sure we can get hold of two of them. There’s one for a start. See that guy in the Ritchie Blackmore T-shirt? He CLEARLY doesn’t deserve a Guest Pass! I’ll go behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Then when he turns around you can discreetly nick his sticker!”
“Dad!” Dilbert sighed, shaking his head.
“Well what about the dorky couple over there? I bet they thought they were coming to see the Seekers’ Fifteenth Farewell Tour. They wouldn’t know Ian Gillan from Athol Guy!”
“DAAAD!”
The crowd was rapidly dwindling and Dilbert was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He reluctantly suggested we’d better head outside, but my mischief wasn’t done with yet.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t reckon they’ll even check for those stickers. Let’s just mingle with the other
guests and maybe we can slip out the back unnoticed.”
Much to the chagrin of ol’ scaredy cat Dilbert, we went over and sat with the other guests.
After only about 30 very uneasy seconds Dilbert said, “Dad, I can’t do this. We shouldn’t be here.”
“Ok,” I said, reaching into my pocket.“What about if we put these on?”
Shock suddenly hit me when I realized the tickets were gone!
Only kidding! I’m just adding to the suspense!
I pulled out the two Guest Passes. Dilbert dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head in relief and happiness, mixed with thoughts of patricide!
Proudly displaying the new decoration on our shirts we made our way backstage, to the now very noisy meeting area and began playing “spot the band members”.
Drummer Ian Paice had disappeared into a separate room, as is his habit. I had hoped to get him to sign a photograph taken of Dilbert and me meeting him after a drum clinic in 2001. Tonight I was going to get him to write, “Albert, thanks for everything you’ve taught me!”
Guitarist Steve Morse meanwhile was in agony at the hands of his physiotherapist. He was having increasing trouble with Carpel Tunnel in his right wrist, and writhed in pain at the manipulation the physio was inflicting upon him.
We had a really nice chat with Don Airey, who suggested an inclination to come and live Down Under. I put in a big plug for Eagle Rock, just an hour down the road. We got a happy snap taken, only to find Don had his eyes shut. He happily obliged a re-take.
I did have a small matter of business to take care of while I was there. I’d been sent a letter from Michelangelo’s Deep Purple website friend Trent Kent (not his real name) which he hoped I could get Roger Glover to read.
I spotted Roger and went over to him with Dilbert. He was talking to someone, so as we waited I said to Dilbert, “When we go up to him I’ll ask if we can get a photo taken? Then when he says yes I’ll hand him the camera!!” “Ha! For him to take a picture of US!!” Dilbert laughed, “Brilliant!”
Roger finished his conversation and I approached him and said,
“Roger would it be ok if we could get a picture taken?”
“Of course,” he replied, and immediately took the camera from my
hand!!
No joke! He was way ahead of me! He out-clowned me on the spot!
And he took this shot of Dilbert and me.
He handed the camera back and we got our happy snap, then i showed him the letter. Trent the website guy wanted me to get Roger to read it in front of me, so we’d know he didn’t just fold it away and never look at it again.
I knew where he was coming from, but it did make it just a bit awkward for me. I didn’t know what was in the letter, but I do know it wasn’t overly long. (Unlike mine to Guy Pratt!) But Roger was very accommodating, and kindly read the whole thing.
He got out his red pen, made some corrections and gave the letter 7 out of 10. “Our friend Trent Kent really needs to work on his grammar, isn’t it,” he said with a wry smile.
Steve Morse had finished his physiotherapy and we had a really great chat with him. He offered Dilbert, who was showing quite a lot of potential as a guitarist, some good advice on practicing and technique. He expressed deep concern at the state of his wrist and hand, and horror at the possible prospect of a future being unable to play guitar!
After we parted company with Steve we inched our way toward the unpredictable Ian Gillan. This sadly is where my uncharacteristically smooth-sailing story hits the rocks.
Being a much bigger fan of Pink Floyd than Deep Purple – I only really got into them after the arrival of Steve Morse – …I tried a little too hard…to come across as having more knowledge than the average Purple head. Instead I showed I had less!
I said to him, “Ian, for me your three greatest vocal performances in Deep Purple are Burn, Stormbringer and Soldier of Fortune.
I heard gasps from the people standing within earshot, and then a clearly irate Gillan grabbed me by the shirt front and shaped to punch my rather dim lights out!
A minder quickly separated us, and my poor, mortified son said, “Dad, those songs were sung by David Coverdale!”
I was, to say the least, a trifle embarrassed, but happy that my jaw was spared the punch it so richly deserved.
And as Gillan was calmed by his minder and other onlookers I thrust my clipboard in his direction and said, “Can I at least get your autograph… David?”
He snatched the clip board and said, “I suppose so. What’s your name?”
“Albert,” I replied.
He scribbled something on my sheet of A4 paper, lobbed the clipboard back at me and walked off.
I looked at the page, shattered to discover Gillan had written, “Albert, you’re an idiot. Stay away from me. Cheers, ig”
I was gutted, and seriously disappointed because the next thing I was going to tell Gillan was something I’m sure he would have wanted to give me a big hug for. But I’d missed the opportunity. That’ll have to be a story for another day.
Once again I’d found a way to turn a most memorable night into a most forgettable one. But all was not yet lost.
Ian Paice writes on Albert’s clipboard, much to Dilbert’s delight.
Ian Paice emerged from his isolation and walked straight into my waiting clipboard. I showed him the photo of his meeting with Dilbert and me in 2001.
He signed it, and then I got him to write my ironic message.
Aware he was a drummer I slowly and deliberately
dictated what I wanted him to write:“Dear…Albert… Thanks… for…everything…you’ve….taught…me.”
He almost got there. It was just a bit too long, so he wrote,“Albert, thanks for all the advice!”
GOOD ENOUGH!
There was one most surprising Pink Floyd link in this deeply Deep Purple story.
Dilbert and I couldn’t believe our eyes when we spotted among the guests none other than David Gilmour!
I just HAD to get a photo with him.
And one final note;
As Dilbert and I made our way through the diminishing crowd to begin our journey home, I looked across the room to Ian Gillan. Right at that moment he looked straight at me. He shook his head as a smile appeared on his face. He gave me a wink and a thumb up.
Shipwreck averted.
What a good sport.