Deep Purple's Band/Musicians
- Ritchie Blackmore
- Ritchie Blackmore – Guitarist, Songwriter
The guy who made the guitar sound both medieval and radioactive, often in the same solo.
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Ritchie Blackmore is the sort of name I see on a sleeve and instantly expect sparks: born Richard Hugh Blackmore (1945), he’s an English guitarist who helped hard-rock riffing grow teeth and then politely refused to stop. His era-stamps are basically whole chapters of rock history: Deep Purple (1968–1975, 1984–1993), where the riffs got louder, sharper, and more dramatic; Rainbow (1975–1984, 1993–1997), where he leaned into melody and fantasy like it was a weapon; and Blackmore’s Night (1997–present), where the electric storm calms down into Renaissance-folk textures without losing that unmistakable Blackmore touch. I love that arc: from amp-stacks and arena thunder to lutes-and-candles vibes, like he just swapped dragons for different dragons.
"Blackmore Signature Strats"
I’ve spent too many nights chasing that Blackmore chime. Fender’s Artist Series Strat is a love letter to his ‘70s obsession—Olympic White with a graduated scalloped rosewood board that makes your fingers feel like they’re floating. The electronics are pure Ritchie logic: two Seymour Duncan Quarter Pounds for the bite and a dummy middle pickup. It’s a prop, a plastic decoy for us mortals. Then there’s the Fender Japan ST72-145RB. MIJ builds have a surgical precision, keeping the ‘72 vibe alive for the obsessive collector. We hunt these like lost relics, justifying the cost because a standard neck feels one-dimensional by comparison. It’s a specialized tool for a very specific kind of madness. But then, isn't that the whole point?
- Ian Gillian
- Ian Gillan – Vocals
Fun bit: the guy who hit those stratospheric notes also played Jesus (1970) before he went full purple thunder. Read more... Ian Gillan, the razor-throated storyteller who helped turn Deep Purple into a stadium engine (1969–1973), then came back for the 1984 reunion and later tours. Before the purple thunder I cut my teeth in Episode Six (1965–1969). In 1970 I also sang Jesus on the original "Jesus Christ Superstar" album—pure theatre, no cape. I went jazz-rock with the Ian Gillan Band (1975–1978), cranked it harder with Gillan (1978–1982), and even took a wild detour fronting Black Sabbath on "Born Again" (1983). Solo records and guest spots followed, but that operatic scream and sly phrasing always gave the game away, whether I was whispering a blues line or detonating a high note over a Marshall stack.
- Roger Clover
- Roger Glover – Bass, Producer, Songwriter
If the groove feels like a tank with manners, his name is usually somewhere nearby. Read more... Roger Glover is one of those credit lines I trust on sight: a Welsh bassist, producer, and songwriter who helped define the heavyweight “engine room” of classic hard rock. I mainly tag him to two eras that just refuse to die: Deep Purple (1969–1973, 1984–present), where his bass and writing instincts locked in with that Mark II bite, and Rainbow (1979–1984), where he wasn’t just playing low-end—he was also steering the sound as lyricist and producer. He came up through Episode Six, then spent the 1970s stacking production work and side projects like it was a second career (because, yeah, it basically was), but those Purple and Rainbow years are the real “mythology in the liner notes” stuff.
- Jon Lord
- Jon Lord – Keyboards
On my best days, that Hammond roar still sounds like cathedral pipes hijacked by a Marshall stack—and Jon Lord is the reason.
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Jon Lord, British keyboardist, composer, and co-founder of Deep Purple, never played “background” the way polite musicians do—he attacked the keys like they owed him money, then turned around and wrote with the discipline of a trained composer. The story starts in the R&B trenches with The Artwoods (1964–1967), then detonates when he helps launch Deep Purple (1968–1976; 1984–2002), where that distorted Hammond became a lead instrument with teeth. After Purple’s first collapse, the road briefly rerouted through Paice Ashton Lord (1976–1978), and then straight into David Coverdale’s orbit with Whitesnake (1978–1984), adding class, weight, and that unmistakable “burning organ” halo to bluesy hard rock. Underneath all the volume, the man kept one foot in the concert hall—because some people can shred and still hear the orchestra in their heads.
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