Signor TBogg offered this:
In light of the Led Zeppelin reunion earlier this week, I thought I would share this passage from the book where he reflects on Led Zeppelin and the cost of growing up:
I discovered, sometime during the last few years, that my musical diet was light on carbohydrates, and that the rock riff was essential – especially in cars and on book tours, when you need something quick and cheap to get you through a long day. Nirvana, The Bends, and The Chemical Brothers restimulated my appetite, but only Led Zeppelin could satisfy it; in fact, if I ever had to hum a blues-metal riff to a puzzled alien, I’d choose Zeppelin’s “Heartbreaker” from Led Zeppelin II. I’m not sure that me going “DANG DANG DANG DANG DA-DA-DANG, DA-DA-DA-DA-DA DANG DANG DA-DA-DANG” would enlighten him especially, but I would feel that I had done as good a job as the circumstances allowed. Even written down like that (albeit with uppercase assistance) it seems to me that the glorious, imbecilic loudness of the track is conveyed effectively and unambiguously. Read it again. See? It rocks.
The thing I like most about rediscovering Led Zeppelin –and listening to The Chemical Brothers, and The Bends — is that they can no longer be comfortably accommodated into my life. So much of what you consume when you get older is about accommodation: I have kids and neighbors, and a partner who could quite happily never hear another blues-metal riff or block-rockin’ beat in her life; I have less time, less tolerance for bullshit, more interest in good taste, more confidence in my own judgment. The culture with which I surround myself is a reflection of my personality and the circumstances of my life, which is in part how it should be. In learning to do that, however, things get lost, too, and one of the things that got lost — along with a taste for, I don’t know, hospital dramas involving sick children, and experimental films — was Jimmy Page. The noise he makes is not who I am anymore, but it’s still a noise worth listening to; it’s also a reminder that the attempt to grow up smart comes at a cost.
So I listened to this clip (there’s no video, just still frames) and I was struck by the truth of what Hornby says.
It really is the riffs and the instrumental interplay. Hardcore Zep fans will find it unbelievable that anyone doesn’t know this (is there a stronger fan base than theirs?) but the headline summary has always been about Jimmy Page and his mastery. I never really got it, though listening to those clips, out of the context of their songs, makes it clear how much better he is as a blues stylist, either with their material or — for me the best of the lot — a Robert Johnson tune, like the last one.
The early stuff is exciting, with the raw power of the band combining to make their signature sound. But as things go on, past III, I don’t feel the same energy. Perhaps my favorite track of theirs didn’t even make this selection, as it doesn’t feature a solo.
Anyway, here are some selected clips from the reunion show of this past week. He’s pulled out the good ones so you don’t have to.
Of course, the other truth in Hornby’s passage is that music does sometimes get forced to the margins of our lives. The records and artists we thought were all-important when we were 17 become less so at 27 and are under the back stairs, with a lot of other stuff we never use, by the time we’re 37. We may have added some music to match our maturing tastes but how much of when we felt burned so hotly back then has lasted?
There’s probably a book or two either written or in progress about the phenomenon of music produced for consumption as physical goods, rather than as performances to watch or replicate.