LED ZEP RECAP
Well, I am finally done with "construction" on this site... so I will start posting some things I have written - pieces old and new! Why not start off with a recap of one of the most exciting events I have had the great good fortune to attend: Led Zeppelin's 2007 reunion in London. Let me say that I wrote this on the plane flying back to the U.S. the day after the concert and I was still on an adrenaline high. You will be able to tell from the opening lines that maybe there was still a bit too much adrenaline pumping through my veins. OK, so maybe it's over the top... but it's how I felt. It was an amazing night:
IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME...
We are over an hour into Led Zeppelin’s massively hyped reunion concert at the O2 Arena on the fringes of London, and the image that comes to mind as I watch 63-year-old Jimmy Page is that of a wild horse in full stride… white mane flowing, he moves with incredible focus and drive, yet total abandon. There is a copious amount of sweat, there is even excess saliva, which in any other context might seem, well, repulsive, yet here it is anything but. This is a magnificent creature, unharnessed, pushing himself to the furthest edge of his abilities – it is a thing of beauty to behold. He is giving us everything he has. It brings me to the verge of tears for a number of reasons, some having nothing to do with the guitarist at all.
It is no secret that Jimmy Page has lived harder than his two surviving Zeppelin comrades Robert Plant and John Paul Jones (drummer John Bonham having choked to death after an epic night of drinking in 1980), embodying the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle long after Zep disbanded. There were many years of substance abuse, visible on a face and body that grew puffy, pasty and unhealthy looking. I saw him up close during his Plant/Page tours. I know. Gone was the pre-Raphaelite beauty of that young guitar god’s face… And then a few years back, a rumor began to circulate that Jimmy had managed to clean up his act. Word was he had kicked the junk and the booze and whatever else may have been his poison, and had emerged seemingly healthy and rejuvenated. Photos of a much less waxy Jimmy Page began to appear in the press from time to time. There was talk that he was in the studio, tinkering with the songs we had grown up on, bringing them into the digital age. The news was all good.
As I am not the type of Zep fan who tried to track the details of the band members’ lives, preferring to just listen to their music, I’ve heard little of John Paul Jones in recent years. I had a vague notion that he was living the life of a country gentlemen somewhere in the verdant lands outside London. Robert Plant, of course, has kept up a steady career… always exploring new avenues in his solo albums and club tours, keeping himself and his fans interested in what he was doing. His latest album, Raising Sand, with Alison Krauss, is a revelation, full of subtlety and nuances many people may not associate with Plant. I love music, yet I hardly consider myself a qualified critic (but then who is, really – all any of us have is our opinion, some more informed than others, though not necessarily more valid), but I think this CD is wonderful. So back to Zeppelin…This incarnation of LZ features 42-year-old Jason Bonham on drums. His father taught him a good deal about how to play before he passed away when the boy was 13. The son has played with many bands in his career (currently he is with Foreigner) but tonight will be the ultimate test for him.
From the first chords of “Good Times, Bad Times” and the oh-so-appropriate lyrics, “In the days of my youth…” with which the band opened their set, the arena has been on fire. Middle-aged middle managers from the Midlands and aging hipsters from Hamburg clap and sway and pump their fists in the air. I look over my shoulder at some point and see that in the row directly behind me, one seat to my right, is Sir Paul McCartney. The cute Beatle is within touching distance. It’s that kind of night. I don’t let it cow me. I continue to dance and sing. David Gilmour of Pink Floyd is just a couple of rows below me, my husband and our 13-year-old son Nick (who is levitating with joy – more on him later). Priscilla Presley, Lisa Marie and her brood are 2 rows above me. I saw Peter Gabriel, Bob Geldof and Joe Elliott chatting in the corridor when I went to the loo earlier. (Never mind who I will see at the after party later. This place is crawling with the biggest name in the music business... but that's a story for another day). Stars and mere mortals alike are being swept away by the sound and the fury that is still Zeppelin. It’s a cliché-inducing atmosphere, what can I say? It is true - they are as mighty as ever.
Robert Plant gains confidence and vocal strength as he segues into “Ramble On” and by the time he hits “Black Dog,” the years have melted away. For 2 hours and 10 minutes, everyone is young again. Most of the fans in the crowd are closer to the age of the band members than not, but I see that my young Nick is not alone in having been the lucky recipient of a parent’s largesse. David Gilmour’s son is here. Sir Paul calls the young man next to him “James” and I surmise that this is his son. At the after-party I will meet Survivor creator Mark Burnett and his 14-year-old son. Clearly, fathers want to bond with their sons over the music that they themselves loved as young men. None of this has to be forced on the offspring, at least in my experience. Led Zeppelin is one of those bands whose music transcends age and crosses generations for a certain kind of fan. Nick began collecting Zeppelin on vinyl a couple of years ago without any urging from his parents, and well before there was any hint that he would one day have the chance to see the band in person. Who could have guessed that this night would ever come to pass?
My eyes tear up again, looking at my son, this boy on the cusp of manhood, whacking away on imaginary air drums, sharing a wide grin with his Dad. I know he will never forget this night, nor the fact that his father made it possible for him to be here. It is magical in so many ways. I am so grateful to be in this place. Robert Plant has noted from stage that the 22,000 ticket holders have come from at least 50 countries, lucky recipients of a worldwide ticket lottery entered by millions. The couple sitting directly below me are speaking Italian. The people next to them are French. I have heard German, Japanese, and languages that, frankly, I can’t even identify being spoken in the arena. This united nations of rock fans is clearly bound by a love of Zeppelin’s music and a desire to see these aging musicians pull off a show worthy of their legacy. We all feel very privileged to share this experience. There is a great vibe all around and, as the evening goes on, the sense that we are not only witnessing, but participating in, an historic event. The newly reconstituted Led Zeppelin is performing at a level that is beyond anyone’s wildest expectations, probably even beyond the band’s expectations. They seem as elated as the audience is at what is clearly a triumph in the offing. Jimmy Page is actually grinning.
The usually garrulous Plant says relatively little as he moves deftly from song to song. He pays homage to the early blues masters who so influenced the band’s music. The set list has a few surprises, and of course some disappointments, as every fan has a favorite Zep tune they want to hear. With 10 albums worth of songs to choose from, the band cannot please everyone. (My son is hoping for “Immigrant Song”). After the opening trio of numbers comes “In My Time of Dying,” “For Your Life,” “Trampled Underfoot,” “Nobody’s Fault but Mine.” Plant is the epitome of cool. He’s in great voice and great form. At 59, he still has the rock star moves, but doesn’t preen as he did in younger days. He doesn’t need to. The women have never stopped swooning. He is clearly comfortable in his skin and wears his age well, as does John Paul Jones, who, though 61, frankly looks a good decade younger than Plant and Page. If Jones still holds any rancor towards his old band mates, who did not invite him to play on their post-Zeppelin Unledded and No Quarter tours, it is not evident tonight. The under-appreciated Jones is steady as ever, whether on bass or keyboards. He and Jason Bonham are totally in sync. “The kid” is spot on. No one may ever hit the skins with quite the power of Bonzo, but Jason is doing his dad proud. Another reason to get misty-eyed. Plant makes it clear that the band members are emotional about having this young man step behind the kit, as well.
The group powers through “No Quarter,” then “Since I’ve Been Loving You.” Time is passing too quickly. When Jimmy Page dons his double necked-guitar and plucks out the first unmistakable notes of “Stairway to Heaven,” of course pandemonium ensues. This is the one song everyone has been waiting to hear, the rock epic which the boys have refused to play live for so many years. At the end of “Stairway,” Plant calls out, “Ahmet, we did it!” – an aside to the late Ahmet Ertegun, the founder of Atlantic Records in whose memory this concert is being played. The proceeds of the show (later estimated at $3 million) will go to an education foundation named for him which grants scholarships in the U.S., the U.K., and Ertegun’s native Turkey.
“The Song Remains the Same” and “Misty Mountain Hop” flow by, and then comes the powerful build-up of “Kashmir”. Massive, crushing, fantastic. The band takes their bows. The huge screen at the back of the stage spells out “Led-Zeppelin” in white on a black background. Page, Plant and Jones have said they would never call themselves this again, as they are not Zeppelin without Bonham on drums. But Bonham the younger has acquitted himself magnificently this evening, and there is the band’s name up in lights. Zeppelin salutes the crowd. Jason Bonham gets on his knees and prostrates himself, worshipping at the feet of his elders, who have given him what is clearly the night of his life. The band leaves the stage. Everywhere I turn, I hear people saying that this is the greatest concert they have ever been to. I have seen hundreds of live performances by the biggest rock bands out there, but I cannot disagree. I am at a loss for words to express just how incredible this show was. Three elder icons of rock, with a combined age of 183 years old, and one young 42-year-old whipper snapper offspring of their fallen brother-in-arms have just put on the most electrifying performance I have ever seen. I do not suspect I shall ever see its equal or better. Hyperbole will not suffice.
The place is wild with whistles, cheers, stomping, clapping. Thousands of cell phones are thrust overhead as 22,000 fans demand that the band return to the stage. Which they of course do, ripping into “Whole Lotta Love.” Off again, then back for one more encore, “Rock and Roll,” and it’s all over. The only thing anyone can talk about, aside from how astounding the show was, is whether the band will play again. Will they tour? Will other people get a chance to experience this kind of exhilaration? Or should this one-off concert stand alone as the crowning achievement of the band’s storied career… the verdict is still out.
Copyright 2007 Carol Boothby Arnold
