Deep Purple’s “Highway Star”: A Raging Pulse from Rock’s Golden Age
Let’s peel back the years to the spring of 1972, when the open road called louder than ever, and Deep Purple’s “Highway Star” roared onto the scene as the lead track on their album Machine Head, released March 25, 1972, by Purple Records in the UK and Warner Bros. in the US. It didn’t chart as a single—“Never Before” took that slot, hitting No. 35 in the UK—but Machine Head itself soared to No. 1 in the UK and No. 7 on the Billboard 200, selling over two million copies for double platinum glory. For those of us who cranked it on a car stereo or felt its rumble through a basement speaker, “Highway Star” isn’t just a song—it’s a memory etched in tire tracks and gasoline fumes, a wild ride from a time when rock was king and the horizon felt endless.
The story of “Highway Star” is a tale of spontaneous combustion. Born on a tour bus in September ’71, it started with Ian Gillan teasing a riff from Ritchie Blackmore—a dare to write something fast. Blackmore, ever the wizard with his Fender Stratocaster, spun it into a monster, hammering it out as the band—Jon Lord, Roger Glover, and Ian Paice—laughed along. Weeks later, at Montreux’s gutted casino after that infamous fire (hello, “Smoke on the Water”), they laid it down raw at the Grand Hotel, a mobile studio capturing Lord’s organ racing like a V8 and Gillan’s banshee wail cutting through. Released on the album, not as a single—save for a Japan-only 45 in ’77—it became a live beast, a staple that stretched to eight minutes on Made in Japan, a ’72 concert LP that hit No. 6 in the US. It was Deep Purple’s Mark II lineup at their peak, raw and unfiltered.
What’s it mean? “Highway Star” is a love song to velocity—“Nobody gonna take my car, I’m gonna race it to the ground,” Gillan screams, his voice a turbocharged roar, “she’s the fastest thing around.” It’s not just a car—it’s a girl, a thrill, a life lived flat-out, a middle finger to anyone slowing you down. For us who’ve grayed since those days, it’s the sound of ’72—of gravel crunching under tires, the glow of headlights slicing the night, the rush of a stick shift in hand as we chased something wild and free. It’s not subtle; it’s visceral, the kind of anthem that shook the windows of a beat-up Chevy and made us feel invincible, if only for five minutes.
This was Deep Purple before the fractures—Mark II’s zenith, a band that fused hard rock with classical fury, paving the way for metal’s rise. “Highway Star” lived on in covers by Faith No More and Rock Band games, but its soul is pure ’70s—Blackmore’s solo a lightning bolt, Lord’s keys a cathedral on wheels. For us, it’s the hum of an 8-track, the sting of wind through an open window, the taste of dust and rebellion as we floored it toward nowhere. “Highway Star” didn’t need a chart—it owned the road. So, fire up that old tape deck, let it rip, and hit the gas again—back to a night when the star was ours to chase.