Deep Purple "Who Do We Think We Are" (1973) UK Pressing - The Tired, Tense Record That Still Bites #deeppurple

Deep Purple's "Who Do We Think We Are"

Album Description:

I never file "Who Do We Think We Are" under “triumph.” I file it under “proof.” Proof that even the loudest band in the room can sound tired, irritated, and still dangerous when you crank the amp and stop pretending everyone’s getting along.

By early 1973 the Mark II machine had been worked like a rented mule: albums, tours, airports, encore after encore. You can hear the burnout in the gaps between the punches. The riffs still land. The chemistry just doesn’t always spark the way it did on "Machine Head" or on the live blaze of "Made in Japan."

The funny part? They didn’t even cut this thing in one clean studio stretch. The Rolling Stones’ mobile rig gets dragged in like a traveling surgeon: Rome in July ’72, then Walldorf near Frankfurt in October. Different rooms, different air, same band trying to keep the wheels on. You don’t get a neat story. You get a record that sometimes feels bolted together at 2 a.m., because it basically was.

And yes, it opens with "Woman From Tokyo" because of course it does. That riff walks in first, shoulders squared, cigarette already lit. Gillan sounds like he’s still got some fuel left, and Blackmore plays like he’s daring the rest of the band to keep up. When that track hits, you remember why people were lining up to have their faces melted.

After that, it gets… human. "Mary Long" stomps and sneers. "Smooth Dancer" lunges forward with that restless, slightly funky tension in the rhythm, like the band is trying to outrun its own mood. "Rat Bat Blue" is the nasty little blues workout where they stop polishing and start swinging elbows. I’ll take that grit over “perfect cohesion” any day.

But I’m not going to pretend it’s all gold bars and fireworks. Some cuts feel like the band is playing in the same room while mentally living on different planets. That’s not “eclectic.” That’s friction. That’s five brilliant musicians doing the job while quietly counting the exits.

The credits tell their own story: produced by the band, engineered by Martin Birch. Birch keeps the sound sturdy and present (thankfully), but he can’t manufacture goodwill. Nobody can. When a group is this big, this busy, and this exhausted, the tape doesn’t lie — it just records the glare.

Critics noticed the fatigue, and plenty of fans did too. Yet the public still showed up: the album reached No. 4 in the UK and No. 15 in the US. That’s not a flop. That’s momentum, muscle memory, and a fanbase that hadn’t learned the word “overexposed” yet.

The title itself is basically a shrug with teeth — pulled from that “Who do Deep Purple think they are…” hate-mail vibe that Ian Paice had joked about. Which makes the whole thing feel even more on-the-nose: a band at the top of the mountain, staring down at the mess, and not feeling especially grateful about any of it.

Then the crack finally splits open. Gillan announced he was leaving after the Japan dates in the summer of 1973, and the original Mark II run ended in Osaka that June. It’s not some romantic “end of an era” ribbon-tied moment. It’s a working band hitting the wall at full speed.

The best part is the aftertaste: this wasn’t the final word. Mark II got a second life in 1984. So "Who Do We Think We Are" sits there in the catalog like a sweaty, half-grinning snapshot — not the clean portrait. The one where you can actually see the strain in the face paint.

References / citations

Music Genre:

Hard Rock, Early Heavy Metal, Progressive Rock

Album Production Information:

All selections written by Gillian, Glover, Lord, Paice and Blackmore

Martin Birch - Sound Engineer

Martin Birch – Producer, Sound Engineer

I first noticed Martin Birch on those early Iron Maiden sleeves—the ones with the typography that felt like a threat. At twelve, I didn’t care about "production value"; I just liked that the guitars didn't sound like mud. He was the man behind the sound mixer, the one who made the snare snap like a dry branch in a cold forest. He was "The Headmaster," and we were all just students of his high-voltage curriculum. Read more...

Birch didn’t just record noise; he organized aggression. By 1972, he was already wrangling the messy brilliance of Deep Purple’s Machine Head, turning Ian Gillan’s banshee wails into something that didn't just clip the tape but lived inside it. In 1980, he pulled off the ultimate renovation, giving Black Sabbath a much-needed shower and a new spine. Heaven and Hell shouldn't have worked, but Martin polished that Birmingham sludge into something operatic and gleaming. It was a pivot that felt like fate, mostly because he refused to let the mid-range get lazy.

Then came the long, obsessive stretch with Iron Maiden from 1981 to 1992. It was a twelve-year marriage to the fader. From the moment Killers (EMC 3357, for those who care) hit the shelves, the sound was physical. He knew how to let Steve Harris’s bass clatter like a machine gun without drowning out the melody—a sonic miracle that still feels fresh. You can almost smell the ozone and the dust on the Marshall stacks when the needle drops on The Number of the Beast. He stayed until Fear of the Dark, then simply walked away. No victory lap, no bloated memoir. He preferred the hum of the desk to the noise of the crowd, leaving us with nothing but the records and a slight sense of abandonment. But then, when you’ve already captured lightning on tape for twenty years, why bother hanging around for the rain?

Martin Birch Wiki

Fin Costello - Photographer

Fin Costello – Art Direction, Photography

Fin Costello is the guy behind the lens who made loud bands look even louder—caught mid-stride, mid-sweat, mid-myth. I always pay extra attention when his photos are printed on album covers and inner sleeves. Read more...

Fin Costello hit my radar the way the best photographers do: not with a signature, but with a feeling. You’re staring at a sleeve and suddenly you can hear the room. Hot lights. Hair stuck to foreheads. That thin layer of sweat that says the set is only halfway done.

He comes out of late-1960s London photojournalism—learn the craft fast, get close, don’t ask the moment to repeat itself. And when the rock caravan starts dragging its cables across Europe, he’s already in the right place. Deep Purple (1972–1975) looks like volume you could measure with a broken window. Rainbow (1975–1977) looks sharper, richer, a little more dangerous in the fantasy costume. Then Ozzy Osbourne (1980–1983) arrives like a headline that won’t calm down.

The thing I like is that Costello doesn’t “capture legends.” He catches people working. There’s a difference. Legends pose. Working musicians forget you’re there—until the flash reminds them, and even then he’s already moved on.

John Coletta - Cover design

Record Label & Catalognr:

Purple records TPSA 7508

Album Packaging:

Gatefold/FOC (Fold Open Cover) Album Cover Design.

Album title is printed in a Yellow bubble, versus other releases which have a Blue bubble.

Media Format:

12" Full-Length Vinyl LP
Album weight: 300 gram

Year & Country:

1973 Made in Gt Britain

Band Members and Musicians on: Deep Purple Who Do We Think We Are

Ian Gillan - vocals
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.

Ian Gillan Wiki
Ritchie Blackmore - lead guitar
Ritchie Blackmore – Guitarist, Songwriter
The guy who made the guitar sound both medieval and radioactive, often in the same solo. Read more...

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?

Ritchie Blackmore Wiki
Jon Lord - organ, keyboards
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. Read more...

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.

Jon Lord Wiki
Roger Glover - bass guitar
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.

Roger Glover Wiki
Ian Paice - drums
Ian Paice – Drums
The human engine room of Deep Purple: swing, snap, and zero wasted motion. Read more...

Ian Paice, the drummer who turned Deep Purple's thunder into clockwork groove, never flashy, always lethal. From Maze in the mid-60s he joined Deep Purple in 1968, anchoring every era: the Mark I-IV years (1968-1976) and the long-haul return (1984-present). After the split I followed him through Paice Ashton Lord (1976-1978), Whitesnake (1979-1982), and Gary Moore's early-80s line-ups and sessions (1982-1984). He's the only Purple member to play on every studio album, and you can tell why: his swing sits inside the backbeat, pushing the band forward without rushing. Listen for the tight hi-hat chatter, snare cracks like a starter pistol, and fills that sing without stepping on the riff.

Ian Paice Wiki

Complete Track Listing of: Deep Purple Who Do We Think We Are

The Song/tracks on "Deep Purple Who Do We Think We Are" are

Woman from Tokyo 5:48
Mary Long 4:23
Super Trouper 2:54
Smooth Dancer 4:08
Rat Bat Blue 5:23
Place in Line 6:29
Our Lady 5:12