“We all came out to Montreux, on the Lake Geneva shoreline,” growls Deep Purple frontman Ian Gillan, erupting after what could arguably be the most iconic riff ever gets a bigger reaction than any guitar part could – not least because it marks a homecoming of sorts.
The rock legends hail from London, but ‘Smoke On The Water’ was born here. Written about the fire and destruction of the Montreux Casino at a Frank Zappa show in 1971, it’s as much a record of the history of rock as it is one of rock’s most historically important tracks.
You feel it tonight as the local mayor and dignitaries gather with the sold-out crowd to rock out and watch dry ice from smoke bombs crawl across the lake behind a background of mountains at the 58th Montreux Jazz Festival. The Guinness Book Of World Records crowned Deep Purple as “the globe’s loudest band” in their ‘70s heyday, and you’d be forgiven for thinking they were trying to reclaim their title tonight. Bones rattle and teeth shake as the band shred into the night, providing a worldie of a set for this “unbelievable, formidable, magnificent, superb” audience.
It takes a lot to follow Alice Cooper, who brings snakes, zombies, camp comedy and a whole lot of West End theatrics to his joyously OTT shock-rock spectacular. Even as he writhes in a straitjacket before being beheaded by guillotine and having his fake bonce paraded around by Marie Antoinette, he still performs with every single deep wrinkle on his wizened face.
That’s not to say that this is a nostalgia-fest by any means. This Swiss music mecca has been attracting the biggest names in rock, pop, and jazz since 1968 for shows that would be talked about for the rest of time, but you don’t make history by looking to the past; you do it by living in the moment.
Besides a frankly ludicrous two-and-a-half week programme that also boasts the likes of Kraftwerk, Massive Attack, Air, Smashing Pumpkins, Janelle Monáe, Raye and Michael Kiwanuka, the line-up of bona fide legends and rising stars is accompanied by a brilliant billing of jazz in the long-since-rebuilt Casino (we spent a beautiful evening there with French-Cameroonian soul wunderkind Yamè – check him out at all costs – and we’d gladly fly ourselves back to see D4VD, Laufey and André 3000) as well as free events, DJ sets and jam sessions along the lake (80 per cent of the stages here are free to the public).
One of our party met a young pianist from the UK while watching the England vs Switzerland Euros game at a nearby Irish bar. On a solo pilgrimage during his gap year, he was inspired by tales of his heroes performing at the free jam sessions at The Memphis. The next evening, that kid was up on that same stage, going hell-for-leather with other musicians. Afterwards, he’d breathlessly share his disbelief at playing the very same piano as his hero, Jacob Collier, who’d turned up for an impromptu performance the year before. That’s the beauty of Montreux – that love of music, sense of occasion, and expectation of a ‘moment’ hangs thick in the year.
We saw that manifest when we were invited to the chalet of the late festival founder Claude Nobs: a house absolutely chocka with trinkets, instruments, memorabilia and gifts from the countless legends he’d befriended. Highlights included a cheeky crotch-shot postcard from Freddie Mercury (who famously had a house and studio nearby) and a striking self-portrait from David Bowie. The latter pops up alongside Prince and Leonard Cohen when we’re shown footage from the vast archives of Montreux Jazz’s countless historic sets.
From his 2002 performance, Bowie tells us how he sat in these very seats for a similar showing of legendary sets gone by – only upping his and the band’s nerves and determination for their gig. It certainly seems that ‘Montreux expects’. During her show, Jessie Ware tells the crowd how she doesn’t usually take requests, but she will for this. We also catch PJ Harvey on the stunning lakeside Scène du Lac arena, where there’s such a wave of compulsion from the stage as this artist, who’s already achieved so much, plays to say: ‘This matters’. It’s a knock-out, especially from the gnarly ‘50 Ft Queenie’ onwards into the grunged-up rock closing of the show.
Even fresh from their immaculate closing set at Glastonbury 2024, The National still look to up their A game further. “It’s a terrifying dream come true to play with PJ Harvey,” offers frontman Matt Berninger, dedicating ‘I Need My Girl’ to her. “I was terrified in this dream… she didn’t give a fuck!” Ahead of the weekend’s Trump assassination, Berninger warns of impending doom (“America is in the middle of the toilet,” he offers, as well as calling on Biden to “wake up” for the good of the left).
From the explosive highs of ‘Abel’ and ‘Mr November’ to the gorgeously tender closing of ‘About Today’ and the acoustic ‘Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks’ with vocal duties handed over to the audience, The National tapped into whatever that wormhole is that seems to travel through places like this, Glastonbury, The Grand Ole Opry, The Cavern Club, etc.
This writer has seen The National more than most and this performance was up there because they couldn’t have been more in this moment. Tears were shed, magic was made, and that’s why we’re here. That’s why we headed out to Montreux and will definitely return – come with us.