Blurb:

As Catherine Rudent demonstrates in Chapter 5, Gillan is very conscious of the R&B/Blues and Soul tradition of ‘parroting’ – that is, where the falsetto vocalist imitates or copies the notes of the guitar in a rising interchange, which, in the case of Deep Purple, may or may not be due to the influence of Led Zeppelin, on tracks like ‘You Shook Me’ and ‘Dazed and Confused’ (both 1969), and in their ‘live’ ‘on stage’ performances (Waksman 1999: 250-253; Fast 2001:44-47).15 Certainly, the reference to parroting is clear in an aside made by Gillan during a break or moment of repartee, in a filmed ‘live’ performance of ‘Strange Kind of Woman’ in New York 1973, when he says to Blackmore, ‘Get that parrot out of there’ (4.02-4.04).16 And there is clearly an amusement shared between the two of them over this, as Rudent also notes in her description of this performance. However, the central point that Rudent seeks to establish, through her detailed analysis of all three Live in Japan (1993) versions of ‘Strange Kind of Woman,’ and the two ‘Speed King’ encores, is that all of these performances, which are very different to the studio recordings, involve an extended segment of guitar vocal interchange which, in many respects, becomes the main part of the ‘live’ performance of the song; or rather that the song becomes secondary to the drama of the virtuosic rock falsetto auditory performance exhibited to the audience in these moments. For Rudent, these performances can be likened to a dialogue, or even a playful game, but where the stakes are high, particularly for the vocalist since the guitar can reach to hights that the voice cannot necessarily copy. In this respect the guitar and vocal interchange is decidedly a duel in which Blackmore is ‘raising the bar’ for his musical partner, suggesting higher and higher notes for Gillan to match. However, despite the allusion to parroting, Gillan’s performance surpasses that of the parroting technique in key moments, notably when he takes the lead in the contest and also when the finale is reached; it is then, and only then, as Rudent observes, when he is able to sustain the falsetto vibrato above that of the guitar, which becomes silent allowing him to scream alone. Then there is another pause, after which he repeats this pinnacle of vocal prowess, which is warmly and loudly received by the crowd.
From this analysis, Rudent seeks to contextualise its reception, firstly in relation to the established framing of musical genre and gender, then in respect of a framing of the performance as an auditory spectacle, which can be compared to female falsetto ‘live’ performance of vocal acrobatics, such as Mariah Carey’s ‘whistle’ and Diane Dufresne’s guitar-vocal interchange in her Starmania (2009) ‘live’ performances. Both of which, in comparison to Gillan, suggest that the binary division between masculine and feminine vocal virtuosity can be deconstructed, allowing us to view such performances as a unisex feat.
Also relevant to the issue of masculine/feminine interplay, are Gillan’s lyrics, which are sometimes cited as examples of sexist machismo in its narratives of women (e.g. ‘Living Wreck’ (1970), ‘Strange Kind of Woman’ (1971), ‘Anyone's Daughter’ (1971), ‘Knocking at Your Back Door’ (1984)). But also evident on the albums Fireball (1971), Who Do We Think We Are (1973), Perfect Strangers (1984) and Purpendicular (1996) are song lyrics that exemplify unusual forms of interior sensitivity (‘Perfect Strangers, 1984,’ ‘Sometimes I Feel Like Screaming, 1996’), social and political allegory (‘No No No’, ‘Fools, both 1971’, ‘Mary Long, 1973’, ‘Under The Gun, 1984,’ ‘A Castle Full Of Rascals, 1996,’) and dead pan humour (‘Not Responsible, 1984,’‘Sid the Mechanic, 1996’), as well as, more recently, the wittily ironic global-warming, end of existence themed tracks, ‘Nothing At All,’ ‘Throw My Bones,’ and ‘Man Alive,’ (all 2022).