Ritchie Blackmore is probably
the best guitarist to never top a best-ever list, and I confess I’m just as
guilty as the next person.
I was a huge fan, of
course. From Shades of through Burn, a
period of almost seven years, Deep Purple would have been in my Top Three Bands
list. And I was always amazed,
astonished, over-awed by Blackmore’s playing – but he never dented my favourite
guitarists list.
I’m still not sure why. Too much shredding (albeit before the term
came into use)? Really weird notes? Impenetrable, unapproachably angry
persona? (Slightly) inferior songs to
solo?
All of the above, probably,
but it still doesn’t excuse the implied lack of respect. His wow factor can top Hendrix, his
that-was-surprising-but-those-were-just-the-right-notes ability could rival Clapton’s,
and his duets with John Lord were pure magic.
It’s a mystery. He’s
a mystery, one as big as his choice of notes.
It’s got me chasing shadows.
