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That’s how good it was
Our long time contributor Stathis Panagiotopoulos reminisces about what happened 40 years ago in Knebworth, England.
It was 40 years ago today – Knebworth 1985 remembered
I was 11 years old in 1974 when I heard Deep Purple for the first time, and it was a defining moment, one that changed my life in ways more profound than I could explain in a short article.
There were no concerts happening in Greece back then, let alone by a group as big as Purple, and I was too young to be allowed to travel abroad to see them.
And then they split up. And all I wished for was for them to get back together, so I could see them live just the once, I thought I’d die happy after.
And just then they did, and it was announced that they would play their home turf at the Knebworth festival on June 22, 1985, 40 years ago today.
I worked through the winter of 84 to collect money to be able to travel. I got my ticket. And then I took the train from Thessaloniki, Greece to go to London. I got there a couple of days later, and on the day of the concert I took another train and travelled to Stevenage with a few good penpal friends, some of whom had seen Purple in the 70’s and some that would see them for the first time.
It was the UK, it was the summer solstice, and, needless to say, it was pissing down with rain. I was up to my knees in mud. I didn’t care. I got inside early, immediately when the gates opened, I watched all the bands. Enjoyed myself immensely.
And then 10 p.m. came around, the lights went down and the taped Bach intro came on.
Cut to the same day, June 22, 2025. Driving back from the morning’s dive, I blasted the Knebworth CD on the car stereo at a dangerously high volume. And relived that day, and it felt as if time had stood still.
When the song about the football team that got kicked out of the league for drinking came on, I was moved to tears. This is the defining Purple song for many of us who weren’t there in the “halcyon days” but joined a bit later. This is what it was all about. Can you remember, remember my name? Can I? Fuck, better than my own name, for sure. For the first time, I was one of the thousand warriors.
Going to Knebworth I knew what to expect. Pre-internet there were double vinyl bootlegs from Australia and the US, so I knew which songs they would play, the solos, the running order, everything. What I didn’t know was, would I be disappointed? Would it be up to what my mind had created during thousands of hours of listening to records and tapes?
In short, was it as good as I expected? No. It was much, much better. Indescribably better. In hindsight, Knebworth might not have been one of the best reunion gigs, but the feeling, the emotions, the sense of being THERE when and where it happened, when and where those five extraordinary musicians threw the naked thunder to the crowd, that feeling was incomparable to anything else, and I was surprised to get it all over again driving back from the five today.
The songs, the musical ability, the sound, the vision, the majesty of Purple, there was never a band that could even come close – there still isn’t and as far as I’m concerned there never will be. What made them DEEP PURPLE (and I can’t put THAT into words, Lord knows I have been trying and failing for years!) is still there, and it will be until the last concert.
From the opening of Highway Star to the fireworks after Smoke on the Water, five minutes passed, it seemed. And when Gillan said “we’ve heard the weather report, the sun is coming out in ten minutes”, I think I believed him.
I was drenched, dog-tired, and indescribably happy. That very morning I thought I’d see them once and die a happy man. After midnight, I wasn’t so sure. I went back, again and again, for another 120 times. Still, if Knebworth had been my first and last Deep Purple concert, I could have died a happy man. That’s how good it was.
Stathis Panagiotopoulos
Unauthorized copying, while sometimes necessary, is never as good as the real thing
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