Some riffs are one-and-done. Others breed. The “Burn” riff, G minor, 1974, Deep Purple Mk III, isn’t just a classic. It’s a genetic code that’s been mutating for half a century, producing bastard children across bands, decades, and egos.

At the center?

Glenn Hughes and David Coverdale. The co-vocalists on “Burn.” One carried it like DNA in his blood (Hughes), the other twisted it into new forms with fresh partners (Coverdale).

The Glenn Hughes Line

Hughes/Thrall – “I Got Your Number” (1982): the first clear mutation, transposed into F♯m, slicker but still the gallop of “Burn.”

Gary Moore – “Run for Cover” (1985): Hughes on vocals again, Moore’s firepower channeling the same pulse.

John Norum – “Face the Truth” (1992): Hughes back at it, the riff sharpened into a darker ’90s hard rock blade.

Glenn doesn’t just sing. He drags the riff’s DNA forward, project after project, like a courier smuggling contraband across borders.

The David Coverdale / John Sykes Line

Coverdale didn’t let it die either. Teaming with John Sykes during Whitesnake’s MTV conquest, they bastardized the “Burn” riff into:

“Children of the Night” (1987, Gm): sleeker and turbocharged for the arenas of the late ’80s. Still “Burn”, just wearing more eyeliner.

Sykes wasn’t done. When he launched Blue Murder, he cloned his own mutation:

“Black Hearted Woman” (1989, Gm): “Burn” reborn again, heavier, moodier, drenched in Sykes’ Les Paul tone.

Coverdale and Hughes may have split paths, but both carried that same fire. One kept it soulful, elastic, shifting keys and contexts. The other turned it into arena thunder and hard rock melodrama.

But the story doesn’t stop there.

“Burn” didn’t come out of thin air. Nothing does. Ritchie Blackmore was reaching backward, too, straight into Gershwin.

Go spin “Fascinating Rhythm.” The horn stabs, the syncopation, the way it jerks forward like it’s about to combust. That’s the skeleton. Purple just plugged it into an amp and let it roar. Suddenly the city’s ablaze, the town’s on fire.

And it wasn’t just Hughes and Coverdale carrying the torch.

The infection spread further. Paul Stanley, yeah, the Starchild, was listening.

You can hear it in “I Stole Your Love.” Same pulse, same fire, dressed up in sequins and pyrotechnics.

Don’t take my word for it. Don’t argue. Hit play. The riff tells you everything.

The Family Tree

– “Fascinating Rhythm” (1924, George Gershwin) – the Jazz Standard

– “Burn” (1974, Deep Purple, Gm) – the hard rock origin.

– “I Stole Your Love” (1977, Kiss, C#m) – the first descendant

– “I Got Your Number” (1982, Hughes/Thrall, F♯m) – the second descendant.

– “Run for Cover” (1985, Gary Moore, F♯m, feat. Hughes) – the third generation.

– “Face the Truth” (1992, John Norum, F♯m, feat. Hughes) – the echo in the ’90s.

– “Children of the Night” (1987, Whitesnake, Gm, Coverdale/Sykes) – Coverdale’s bastard child.

– “Black Hearted Woman” (1989, Blue Murder, Gm, Sykes) – Sykes cloning himself.

It’s a family tree of riffs, sprouting new branches every time one of its carriers stepped into a studio.

Because this isn’t plagiarism, it’s proof of how riffs behave like living organisms. They survive by mutating, jumping bands, crossing decades. Glenn Hughes and David Coverdale, often painted as rivals in Purple, ended up as co-parents of a riff dynasty.

And every time that riff comes back, whether in Stanley’s face paint, Hughes’ soulful howl, Sykes’ molten Les Paul tone, or Coverdale’s snake-charmer swagger, you feel it. G minor or F♯ minor, it doesn’t matter. It’s still “Burn”.

The riff refuses to die. It just keeps coming back, louder, slicker, dirtier.