ChristyBassman.com

When I was seventeen years old, a friend tried to get me into Led Zeppelin.

At the time her reasons were more than a little bit shallow. I guess they were the primary influence of Guns and Roses (I'll take aside a few moments to laugh about this later, don't worry) who were her favorite band up until that point, and so she wanted me to hear the great Led Zep.

It didn't take.

I don't know why. Maybe I was too limited in my experience at the time for it to really stick. But if that's the case, why did the Velvet Underground take root in my innocent little brain at the age of fifteen and forever change the way I'd view anything as “organic” or “inorganic”, musically, to this very day? I remember, in hearing “Heroin” at age fourteen or fifteen, the experience being akin to having my delicate little virgin ears raped by a raw, thousand year old, splintery redwood log. It was magnificent. It changed my life. Its raw, visceral power crashing and receding like waves on a shore. I judged everything by it for years. I still do. Not the sound, but that power that hits you right in the solar plexus, instead of dancing around and obscuring its intentions.

Led Zeppelin had that power. I don't know why it didn't stick with me when I was seventeen. It's twelve years later now, and they're running through my veins. They really have been for about four years now, but like anything, your obsession waxes and wanes a bit. Three or four years ago it was Keith's not-so-subtle placing of _Houses of the Holy_ in my car tape deck during snowstorms when I'd be stuck on the expressway for three hours at a time commuting to work.

I know every single note of _Houses of the Holy_ inside out, backwards, upside down. It's part of my psyche. It's part of that subconscious soundtrack that you hum under your breath while walking around the block. Once I finished listening to it in my car during my long drives into the city for work, I'd be singing the songs to myself softly at my desk. Turns out my coworkers at the time were big Led Zep fans too. They whipped out their mp3 collection and we played HotH nonstop for hours at work.

It was a bit of overkill, but here's the weird thing about Led Zeppelin. Unlike some other bands, I have _never yet been able to oversaturate my brain with them_. Other bands, both superb and mediocre, start to burn out your mind after a while and you find yourself daydreaming or zoning out while re-listening to your favorite song of theirs for the 500th time. I cannot burn myself out on Led Zeppelin. I should know. I've made every effort possible during the past four years. Thanks so much, Keith, for these tapes left in my car. I'm shocked they still play, surprised that their magnetic tapes haven't eroded down into a very thin fine leathery substance from their overuse. These were old tapes you or one of your friends probably had from your teenage years. How could you know at that time what purpose they'd come to serve?

Keith and I were discussing this the other night, and we agreed on this subject: Led Zeppelin were everything a rock band was supposed to be, and never anything more or less. Occasionally you'd find yourself howling along with Robert Plant in the car, “Oh baby! Oh baby! Ohhhhhhhhh ohhhhhhhh baby ohhhhhh!” and realize how inane the lyrics really were. But you never felt inane or stupid moaning along to them. It came from the gut. It was genuine, even when it was fluffy and poplike. It was organic. It was the Real Deal. It was the howl and cry of ages.

I'm waxing melodramatic, I know, but Plant could do the same. Plenty of songs that aren't just “you made me cry cry cry” but follow a nonlinear, universal, poetic, obscure and metaphorical format. Like “The Battle of Evermore”, my current favorite.

I'd wrap this up, since one can really only read shameless worshipping of any particular band for so long without rolling their eyes. I leave you with two final, lighter thoughts for the day:

1) Guns and Roses: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AAAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! *wipes tear*

2) The most amusing part of my LZ fandomship, to me, is the fact that I *still* couldn't tell you how “Stairway to Heaven” goes. I think I've gone out of my way to avoid it.