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| The Return of Led Zeppelin |
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Why here? Why now?
I've been sequestered in London, splitting time between a grad school stint at the London School of Economics and filling out business school applications. In the past, I've managed to find my way into a unusual events—running with the bulls in Pamplona, sharing smokes with Castro at the Havana Cigar Festival, attending Super Bowls and World Series, the last World Cup and a couple of Pearl Jam concerts—and writing on all of these for publication. Sometimes I was, in fact, invited; most times, though, my attendance resulted from the result of targeted persuasion (aka begging) until granted access.
When I heard of the Led Zeppelin reunion concert late last year (Dec 07), it was another opportunity to showcase my disregard for social and legal boundaries and again find entry where most could not. As it turns out, it was easy to find a couple of tickets on Ebay from some wretch in need of 500 quick dollars. Access to the after-party with McCartney, Jagger, Gilmour, Grohol et al. was pure happenstance (i.e. friend of a friend couldn't use his passes) and access to a corporate box was a simple matter of gross misuse of the Rolodex of one of the principals of this website.
So armed, it was easy to add a writing gig for a major London-based business publication and find an attractive female friend to drag along for credibility backstage. Unfortunately, the evening spun off into such debauchery that even now, weeks later, I have little recollection of an LSE presentation the following morning or the subsequent whereabouts of the aforementioned female colleague. I do, though, have a vivid recollection of the unnamed publication opting to spend valuable editing time on two other more mundane and far less interesting (one man's opinion) pieces and passing on timely publication of my work.
When I complained of my hangover and general situation to my former colleague, EdmondDantes, he suggested I at least publish my piece here instead of letting it rot on some laptop overseas. He insisted I add candid photos of the "trollop" (his words) and the after-party, but in the interest of someday salvaging the relationships, I have declined to do so. I have, though, added a couple of camera phone shots of the concert for general review. See below.
And so, the concert review...originally contracted for publication by a media giant that would have 1) looked great on my b-school apps and 2) resulted in 500 GBP already invested in arcane economic reprints and other mind-numbing matter…is now published here, in relative obscurity, for free. Have at it.
Background
It would not be fair to compare Led Zeppelin’s reunion at London’s O2 Arena on December 10th with their concerts of the seventies. During their twelve year run, Led Zeppelin stunned audiences and laid claim as the preeminent live music act in the world. As great as Zeppelin was on many nights, it is worth noting that they also turned in more than one drug-addled, disappointing performance during their reign. Many wondered how a mature Zeppelin, 27 years removed from a full gig, would reconcile their crushing style with the limitations of age.
The impetus for this historic reunion was the death of one of music’s brightest personalities, Ahmet Ertegun, the co-founder of Atlantic Records and paternal figure to scores of young musicians, including Zeppelin. The evening served as a tribute to Ertegun with proceeds benefiting his charity and opening performances by close friends Paul Rogers, Paulo Nutini, Foreigner and Bill Wyman.
Zeppelin was originally asked to perform for forty minutes and last June met for a series of secret rehearsals in London. The band, with its reputation for excess and perfection, quickly realized that a proper reunion would require a full two-hour set. The three surviving members—Robert Plant, Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones—were joined by Jason Bonham, the son of original drummer John Bonham, whose death in 1980 on the eve of a North American tour prompted the band’s dissolution.
The corridors of the O2 Arena offered little indication that Led Zeppelin, a counter culture stalwart, was the attraction of the night. The wild-haired youth of the seventies were replaced with clean cut professionals bound for corporate hospitality suites. That said, the excitement on the faces or the young children brought by parents confirmed Zeppelin’s continued relevance. Rock & Roll elite such as Sir Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton, David Gilmour and Mick Jagger all filed in, creating a buzz as show time neared.
The concert
To welcome the band, vintage footage of the band on tour in the seventies played on a massive screen behind the stage prior to the band's emergence. Without warning, lights illuminated the crowd, power chords thundered and Robert Plant belted the familiar lyrics “In the days of my Youth/I was taught what it means to be a man." Led Zeppelin had returned, and the crowd’s response was deafening.
Zeppelin played without additional support or altered versions of their classic hits. Robert Plant wasn’t a golden god bounding about the stage, but his voice was surprisingly sprite and the notes that are now out of reach he didn’t attempt. Jimmy Page clearly benefited from the years of sobriety and time removed from touring—he played with exacting precision and even resurrected his violin bow solo on “Dazed and Confused.”
No one could fill the massive drumkit of John Bonham, but his progeny proved a worthy replacement, replicating the thundering drum solos that cemented the elder’s iconic status.
The concert united people from over fifty countries and spanned generations of music lovers. Each member of Zeppelin appeared energized throughout the evening—this was no longer their job or obligation but as Page noted, “a chance to let the genie out of the bottle.” Zeppelin made no mention during the evening of any future performances, but that didn’t stop speculation among fans exiting the arena who were in universal agreement that Led Zeppelin had turned in an extraordinary performance.
RD, Jr.
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| Rolling Stone 40th Anniversary Celebrity Poker Tournament |
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Don’t I know you?
Vegas is littered with degenerate dealers that go up big, quit their jobs and live large, slowly give it all back and return to dealing. They enter Vegas as bright-eyed dreamers, and thirty years later, they are still plying that disappointing dream behind a table. For any dealer, pit boss or cocktail waitress who might have been in Vegas thirty years ago, our act was a re-run—a broke, infrequent contributor to Rolling Stone and an overweight, drug addled attorney with no regard for societal norms in town to report on some odd competition.
Indeed, we bore other similarities to Raoul Duke and Dr. Gonzo. We had rooms that were comped, money was never an issue and sleep was out of the question. But did we have a purpose out in the desert? Was there some reason for this lost weekend?
Yes, we’re here on assignment…
More...
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