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Messages from Roger Glover

Who Knows Where The Time Goes?

Who Knows Where The Time Goes?

Sandy Denny’s song is as relevant now as it ever was. Steve Miller sang about time slipping into the future. Our Time Will Come, Funny How Time Slips Away, Time After Time, Out Of Time, etc., etc. All about the same thing––that elusive and most precious of items.

And now it’s the Time Of The Season.

Back in my sixties, few months ago, I was hunting for my winter socks.


It’s later than you think

Those were the words on a famous poster at a time when posters seemed to matter, in the late 60s. Here in 2015, posters are old hat, summer’s gone and winter’s coming on. And that’s that.

Life has been packing and unpacking itself over the last several months. Life. One forgets to value it when events, pressures, schedules, responsibilities, etc. impinge on ones appreciation of the greatest gift… waking up.


B. B. King

I well remember a time in the early ’70s when Ian Paice and I shared a flat in Parsons Green. Despite, or maybe because of, the intense hard rock that we were performing on the road, we had a surprisingly eclectic listening taste at home. It veered, one might say alarmingly, from The Carpenters to Mountain, with the likes of Taj Mahal, Prokofiev, James Taylor, Hendrix, Vaughen Williams, Dr John, Elgar, Dave Brubeck et al.




… my computer died on the first day of the European tour in February. Panic stations. Seems like a prison cell when you have no Internet. Thanks to Christer Lorichs for sorting me out and also for taking this photograph for the next item.

… a host of friends and admirers saluted Jon Lord at the Royal Albert Hall. Tears of wonder, joy and sorrow ran all through the first half as Jon’s beautiful mind was revealed by the stellar performances on stage.



Sometime in the latter half of the sixties, our manager Gloria Bristow had an assistant, Barbara, who threw a party at her apartment in Pimlico, London. All of Episode Six were there, some PR (public relations) people, and a few industry types, but what got us excited was that we’d heard that Johnny Gustafson might show up.

When the Merseybeat explosion happened, The Big Three was one of the coolest and most underrated bands around.