by George Case
J. R. R. Tolkien
“Robert was into all that fairy stuff,” John Paul Jones opined of his vocalist’s lyrical inspirations. It is true that, like thousands of his fellow hippies in the Britain and North America of the 1960s and ’70s, Robert Plant did read and enjoy The Lord of the Rings and other fantastic literature by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (1892–1973), and several of the author’s invented people and places found their way into Led Zeppelin songs. The evil Gollum and the wasteland of Mordor are mentioned in “Ramble On,” while the Dark Lord, the Queen of Light, and ringwraiths turn up in “The Battle of Evermore.” The titular peaks of “Misty Mountain Hop” refer to The Lord of the Rings’ geography, while Plant’s dog Strider, to whom he dedicated “Bron-y-Aur Stomp,” was named for a Tolkien character. Some listeners also detect allusions to Tolkien’s world in “Over the Hills and Far Away,” “Four Sticks,” “No Quarter,” and “Stairway to Heaven.” Though none of these references are especially complex or serious, his layperson’s interest in mythology both real (Norse, Celtic) and fictional (The Lord of the Rings) informed much of Plant’s most original verses. Led Zeppelin’s popular association with the vague medievalism of wizards, runes, dragons, forests, Vikings, castles, and the like—and its subsequent appropriation by dozens of sword-and-sorcery heavy metal acts—are an indirect by-product of J. R. R. Tolkien’s broad and devoted international readership.
William S. Burroughs
The Beat Generation author of Junky and Naked Lunch held an unusual interview with Jimmy Page in 1975, published as a cover story in the US rock and culture magazine Crawdaddy. Titled “Led Zeppelin, Jimmy Page & Rock Magic,” the conversation is a rather awkward one, as two heavyweights of cult literature and pop music strain to find much in common. While Burroughs (1914–1997) did his research in attending a Zeppelin concert, probably at Madison Square Garden on February 7, the middle-aged gay American author and the young straight British guitarist seemed most comfortable discussing their shared interests in magic, the trance rhythms of North Africa, and their mutual associates Kenneth Anger, Donald Cammell, and Mick Jagger. (It’s also possible that, out of print, they found another joint taste in narcotics, a subject with which both men were familiar.) Though nothing of Burroughs’s fiction is perceptible in Led Zeppelin’s songs, he and his Beat peers certainly prefigured the counterculture’s fascination with the occult, drugs, and sexual experimentation. It was in Burroughs’s 1964 work Nova Express that the characters of “the Heavy Metal kid” and “the Heavy Metal people of Uranus” first introduced the term heavy metal, a phrase later used to define the music of Led Zeppelin, to a youthful audience.
Aleister Crowley
The short answer is: The influence was less than many suppose. Unlike the Beatles, Led Zeppelin never put a picture of Crowley on one of their albums; unlike Ozzy Osbourne, the group never wrote a song about him; and unlike Iron Maiden singer Bruce Dickinson, no one of the quartet ever wrote a movie screenplay (Dickinson’s was called Chemical Wedding) loosely based on Crowley’s life. Edward Alexander Crowley (1875–1947) relates to Zeppelin only via his latter-day aficionado Jimmy Page, who openly talked of studying the occultist’s magical doctrines and who became a famous collector of Crowley artifacts, including a former residence. “That was his business,” John Paul Jones told Uncut magazine in 2009 of Page’s Crowley research. “It was not an interest of mine.” Robert Plant and John Bonham took the same position.
A few obsessive analysts have attempted to frame all of Led Zeppelin’s music as a coded homage to Crowley. Thomas Friend’s 2004 study Fallen Angel: The Untold Story of Jimmy Page and Led Zeppelin, for example, claims that the structure and lyrics of “Stairway to Heaven” represent “a worship of Lucifer” based on Crowley’s teachings—never mind the extremists who hold that the anthem is woven with backward messages in praise of Satan. Others have pointed to Page’s “deitic” hand gestures between concert strums or solos, as if he were summoning some invisible spirit while performing. The “oSo” in Page’s “ZoSo” sigil is also said to be in some way connected with either Crowley or one of his disciples, Austin Osman Spare. Even if these theories were partially accurate, they would still place Crowley well down the scale of Zeppelin’s inspirations.
In fact, the one tangible link between Led Zeppelin’s music and Aleister Crowley was literally embedded in the vinyl of Led Zeppelin III. For the first pressings of the record in 1970, Page and American engineer Terry Manning inscribed Crowley’s dictum “Do what thou wilt” on one side of the master disc’s runoff groove, and continued “Shall be the whole of the law” on the other. Jimmy Page was a conscientious producer and, in the days when the physical transfer of the primary acetate onto vinyl was a last, crucial step in the recording process, he was on hand to oversee the job. Usually masters had ordinary serial numbers inscribed, but Page and Manning together hit on the idea of carefully imprinting some Aleister Crowley philosophy; Manning has also recollected etching “So mote it be”
Aleister Crowley (1875–1947), whose name and exploits have been inextricably linked with Led Zeppelin.
Hulton/Getty Images
and “Love under will” on both sides of an alternate master. “We joked that with the different things written on different lacquers, real fans would have to buy two or more records to complete the set,” Manning told Whole Lotta Led Zeppelin author Jon Bream in 2007. “This was absurdly funny to us, as we couldn’t imagine anything like that might really happen.” “Do what thou wilt” was also printed on flyers announcing parties for the launch of the Swan Song label in 1974.
Any more speculative interpretations of Crowley’s influence on the recorded output of Led Zeppelin are just hearing things. Jimmy Page’s fantasy scene in The Song Remains the Same was shot on the grounds of Scotland’s Boleskine House, where Crowley had lived long before, but, as Page himself admitted in a Zeppelin-era interview, his interest was ultimately “a personal thing and isn’t in relation to anything I do as a musician, apart from that I’ve employed his system in my own day-to-day life.”
Can I Take You to the Show: Led Zeppelin on Film
A significant factor in the band’s long-term success was their low-key media presence during the 1970s. They diligently sat for interviews, posed for publicity shots, and employed press liaisons to spread word of their achievements to reporters, but they never sought the blanket television and tabloid coverage upon which some of their contemporaries relied. As a consequence there are numerous unrelated programs and movies where the group is seen or mentioned, without keeping track of taped talk show or promotional appearances and occasional po-mo references on series like The Simpsons or That ’70s Show. Today a scattering of official and unofficial TV and cinematic releases are available that present the Led Zeppelin story from several angles. Some of this material has been posted in short clips on the Internet, but the best of them are recommended for viewing in their entirety.
All Your Own
In 1958 a segment of this British youth talent show presented a four-piece group from Epsom, Surrey, as the youngsters busked their way through Leadbelly’s “Cotton Fields” and “Mama Don’t Allow No Skiffle Around Here.” One of the two guitarists was a shy fourteen-year-old named Jim Page, but it was not until many years later that the clip was discovered and featured in the 1995 documentary series Rock ’n’ Roll: An Unruly History. Widely seen since, it’s a charming peek into the very early career of an artist who was never again as innocent as he appears here: there’s a lot of mileage to be got out of his reply to host Huw Wheldon that, if he couldn’t make a vocation out of playing skiffle, he hoped to enter the field of biological research.
Blow-Up
The Yardbirds appear in a segment of Michelangelo Antonioni’s influential mod murder mystery set in Swinging London, performing “Stroll On,” a legal rewrite of their staple “Train Kept A-Rollin’.” New recruit Jimmy Page is seen in medium shot while co-lead guitarist Jeff Beck smashes his guitar, as instructed
by the director. Decades after Blow-Up’s 1966 premiere, the Yardbirds’ rockin’ interlude is one of the best things in the film, which has otherwise aged poorly.
Groupies
Though no one from Led Zeppelin participated in this sleazy 1970 exploitation documentary (Joe Cocker, Ten Years After, and Zeppelin’s almost-singer Terry Reid were the musical highlights), it contains a short scene where an unidentified female discusses Jimmy Page’s proficiency with whips.
The Song Remains the Same
For many years the band’s sole and best cinematic effort was a mix of Madison Square Garden concert footage from 1973, studio re-creations of the same gig shot in London in 1974, and private scenes of the members’ home lives interspersed with staged dramatizations of their songs. The Song Remains the Same has been must-viewing in theaters or on video for Zeppelin fans, but impartial spectators have found it overlong and pretentious, and some of the performances are not as good as those heard on bootlegs from the same period. Today it has been displaced as a live document by later material—notwithstanding an updated 2007 edition—although it still merits a look for providing a glimpse of the quartet at the summit of their rock star hubris.
Lucifer Rising
Underground filmmaker Kenneth Anger’s unearthly collage of occult imagery continues to disturb decades after its 1980 release. Jimmy Page was first commissioned to create the soundtrack for Anger’s erratic production schedule in 1972, but the director “fired” him in 1976 for failing to provide useful music. The official version of the film credits Charles Manson family member and convicted murderer Bobby Beausoleil as the composer, although Page’s weird synthesized tones have been heard on a bootleg album, and the bearded guitarist himself is briefly seen in a single panning shot from the finished work.
The Song Remains the Same (1976) offered an imperfect portrait of Zeppelin’s live act.
Courtesy of Robert Rodriguez
Son of Dracula
John Bonham can be seen drumming for “Count Downe”’s band, in this 1974 mess conceived and produced by boozy buddies Harry Nilsson and Ringo Starr.
Concert for the People of Kampuchea
An early example of star-studded rock ’n’ roll benefit shows, this one, put on by unicef in London in December 1979 for victims of the Pol Pot regime in Cambodia, featured Robert Plant singing with Rockpile, and the ad hoc “Rockestra,” including John Paul Jones and John Bonham. A DVD condensation of these concerts, also with Queen, the Clash, the Pretenders, and Elvis Costello, is available.
Death Wish II
Jimmy Page’s first recorded outing after the disbandment of Led Zeppelin was the soundtrack for a 1982 Charles Bronson movie, a sequel to the 1974 vigilante classic. The film itself is an average shoot-’em-up, but Page’s suspenseful score, made in collaboration with vocalist Chris Farlowe and Fairport Convention drummer Dave Mattacks, among others, is a compelling and underrated gem from his oeuvre.
Scream for Help
John Paul Jones also wrote and performed a soundtrack for Death Wish II director Michael Winner, in this case a pedestrian thriller from 1984. “It was a horrible film,” Jones admitted to Dave Lewis. “A bit of a disaster all around, really.” As with the earlier Winner project, the music is more interesting than the movie—Jimmy Page plays on “Crackback” and “Spaghetti Junction.” Both the Death Wish II and Scream for Help soundtracks are worth locating on album.
Give My Regards to Broad Street
It says something about John Paul Jones’s professional reputation that the most famous rock ’n’ roll bassist of all, Paul McCartney, picked him to play backup in the “Ballroom Dancing” sequence from his 1984 film.
No Quarter: Jimmy Page and Robert Plant Unledded
The landmark 1994 reunion of Led Zeppelin’s two most visible personalities began as an episode of the MTV network’s Unplugged program, which put electric rock ’n’ rollers into a more acoustic setting. Page and Plant were captured on video performing with Western and Egyptian backing musicians in a London TV studio, a small band in Wales, and local Moroccan instrumentalists in Marrakech. Mixing matured versions of Zeppelin classics such as “Thank You,” “Kashmir,” “Since I’ve Been Loving You” and “Nobody’s Fault but Mine” with the intriguing African explorations of “Yallah,” “City Don’t Cry,” and “Wonderful One,” the collection was a classy comeback for two superstars not content to replicate past glories.
Led Zeppelin (DVD)
A blockbuster release in 2003 that clinched Led Zeppelin’s entry into the highest reaches of rock aristocracy, this career retrospective was the long-awaited revelation of the band’s live prowess that The Song Remains the Same wasn’t. Spanning the concert triumphs of the Royal Albert Hall in 1970, Madison Square Garden in 1973, Earl’s Court in 1975, and Knebworth in 1979, as well as rare TV appearances and interviews, the two-disc package is the best available Zeppelin visual chronicle and a mandatory intro for newcomers to the legend.
A to Zeppelin: The Unauthorized Story of Led Zeppelin
As per the title, this documentary features interviews with such Zep associates as Richard Cole, Chris Dreja, and Lori Mattix, but no actual Zeppelin music is heard and the biographical content is cursory. There are a few comparable products on the market, using unlicensed footage and bland commentary from marginal figures to capitalize on Led Zeppelin’s enduring allure.
Led Zeppelin: Physical Graffiti—A Classic Album Under Review
Another unauthorized production, this one offers in-depth analyses of the music, benefiting from the close scrutiny of musicologists, Zeppelin experts Dave Lewis and Nigel Williamson, and the memories of Physical Graffiti engineer Ron Nevison. Led Zeppelin: Physical Graffiti is more substantial than the usual quickie bios.
Released in 2003, the Led Zeppelin DVD was the authorized visual document of the band that fans had been waiting for.
Author’s Collection
Led Zeppelin—The First Album
Similar to the above, this documentary covers the seminal 1969 debut.
It Might Get Loud
This 2008 documentary on the art and history of the electric guitar featured the Edge of U2, Jack White of the White Stripes, and Jimmy Page separately and together conversing on their lifelong explorations of the instrument. Zeppelin fans were thrilled to share Page’s candid reminiscences about first discovering the rumble of Link Wray, and to accompany him on his nostalgic visit back to Headley Grange. Great viewing for guitar buffs, and good to see the Sorcerer in contented middle age.
Like a Leaf Is to a Tree: Books About Led Zeppelin
With the rock biography an industry unto itself in the publishing business, generating thousands of titles on acts of all periods and styles, it’s no surprise that a small library’s worth of Zeppelin-related volumes have been issued over the years—four books alone have been written on the making and meaning of Led Zeppelin IV. Depending on the reader’s interest, he or she can choose from various formats (picture book, chronology, critical study) and authorial approaches (tell-all, interview collection, annotated guide), but with so much selection some books have garnered more respect than others. The following is not a complete list of every single Led Zeppelin work ever released but a general introduction to the most popular, most accurate, and most entertaining editions to cover the band.
Biographies
Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Saga, by Stephen Davis
First published in 1985 and updated in several later versions, this best-selling account has remained a standard course in Led Zep 101 for thousands of new fans. This success has come despite (or because of) the surviving members’ adamant rejection of it. “I think I opened it up in the middle somewhere and started to read, and I just threw it out the window,” Jimmy Page told Rolling Stone in 1990. “I mean, I couldn’t bother to wade through that sort of stuff.” John Paul Jones muttered that the book “made us out to be sad little people…. [Davis] ruined a lot of good, funny stories.” And Robert Plant
has likewise dismissed Hammer as any kind of truthful document: “If you get stuck into denying it, you’re prey to these people…. The guy who wrote that book knew nothing about that band. He got all his information from a guy who had a heroin problem who happened to be associated with us.” For these and other comments, many hard-core Zeppelin followers have likewise refused to countenance Davis’s story.
But the real problem with Hammer of the Gods is not its accuracy but its emphasis. Journalist Davis was actually in the Zeppelin entourage on the 1975 US tour, and seems to have witnessed Plant’s infamous “I’m a Golden God” boast as well as other behind-the-scenes embarrassments; no one has ever disproved his assertions that Page was a heroin addict engaged in a relationship with a minor female, that John Bonham was a violent and uncontrollable drunk, or that a Zeppelin groupie was once sexually serviced with a dead fish. On the other hand, Davis relied extensively on details from prior biographer Ritchie Yorke and from reporter Ellen Sander, and especially on the very personal and subjective memories of Lori Mattix (misspelled in the book) and tour manager Richard Cole, who even the writer admits was then “drinking away the $200,000 he had left over from Zeppelin.” Hammer of the Gods is thus a great read for anyone sniffing out the group’s most sordid episodes, but its perspective is limited and subsequent writers have painted a far more realistic picture.
