Deep Purple

I had always figured that by this stage of my life I would know why it’s spelled My Woman From Tokyo but sung Tok-A-yo, with that one hell of a long A phoneme, like a misplaced Canadian. After nearly a half century I just have to ascribe it to mysticism, one of the mysteries, some grokked chakra thing, some stupid with a flare gun, whatever. I hung with Funky Claude once, we talked, I forgot to ask him, he died, and that was that. Some things are perhaps best left unknowable.


I was a couple years too old back in the seventies to think they were any good. All the junior high and freshmen kids in my neighborhood loved them though. We juniors and seniors were way too hip. KISS were just stupid. Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple, however, had depth and meaning. Purple even had classical parts. Though listening recently to Made In Japan, I couldn’t tell where the classical parts were. In any case, I soon heard the Ramones and the Pistols, and KISS seemed more bogus than ever. And the Ramones didn’t even have any classical parts.


Wicked Lester–Gene Simmons (standing on left) and Paul Stanley (seated in center)–in their folk rocking hippie pad, 1971.