Deep Purple. Two words that mean so much to so many. It’s been 13 years since DP—the DP, Gillan, Glover, Paice, Lord and Blackmore; Evans, Simper, Hughes, Bolin and Coverdale were mere historical twitches in the great cosmic scheme of things—fell apart. But even now, little kids who’ve lived less years on earth than Purple have put out albums have copied Blackmore’s guitar style, copped their parents’ albums, voted them Best Everything in readers’ polls and panted, prayed, beat their breasts for a reunion— we’re talking serious stuff here. Deep Purple are bigger than you, me, Dee Snider standing on Gene Simmons’s shoulders, a time, a place, themselves even; they’re part, no less, of the genetic make-up of western civilization; the

loudest band in the world according to Guiness, the most brilliant according to many sane people who were around in the heyday (Hey, they did have their moments! Some of the best cover songs of all time, plus Deep Purple In Rock, plus Machine Head, glorious! Though, I confess I’d tend to give that award to Zeppelin for emphasizing sex over splendid ostentation; DP’s was music that melted in your brain, not in your glands...) and they're back! Eternity does exist after all! Deep Purple are back up there with the gods, in that hallowed league of musical superduperness!