Led Zeppelin is a Thing With Me

By Wendy Lee

May 1, 2016

I thought it was a funny question, “What is it with you and Led Zeppelin, why is that a thing with you?” All I could think of is the movie Sideways where Maya provides almost the same commentary, “Why are you so into Pinot…I mean, it’s like a thing with you.”

Led Zeppelin is a thing with me. Their music was a great caregiver to me, my comrade through the years of teen anguish.

I wish I could cite that my reason for loving Led Zeppelin is rooted in their unique rock style, influenced by blues and folk music. I wish I could say that I was moved by the experimentation, the layers, and the mystical and mythical aspects of their songs. I wish I could quote the lyrics, and explain their deep meaning. I wish I could describe in beautiful poetry the genius of Jimmy Page and how he inspired me.

I can’t. I knew nothing of these things. My true appreciation of music didn’t come until much later in life.

Led Zeppelin’s music was merely the backdrop of my life. It helped me through the darkness. It is the music I heard while walking the moonless neighborhoods of sadness, trying to navigate blindly through the teenage nightfall. It is as straightforward as this: it was there for me when I desperately needed something or someone to be there for me.

As a teenager, I listened to Led Zeppelin’s music constantly. I connected with it, and still can’t explain why. But we were attached, attracted, completely inseparable.

There are certain events from my teenage years that I can recall or measure time by simply by what Led Zeppelin song was playing in the background. I distinctly remember listening to the Houses of the Holy album when a guy friend stopped by my house. Mark wanted to talk to me. We were friends, but not great friends. Frankly, I was very confused about why he was at my house.

Mark was pretty cute, a skinnier version of Heath Ledger.  Right there, in my bedroom, listening to Led Zeppelin, Mark declared that he wanted to take care of me for the rest of my life. It was a hard time in my life, for certain, and having someone want to see me through it was quite moving. Why I didn’t fall completely in love with him right then and there, even though I was only sixteen at the time, I will never know.

Prior to that moment, I was apparently oblivious to Mark’s feelings for me (an affliction I still possess today when it comes to matters of the heart). I was maybe more flabbergasted than flattered by his pronouncement, and wasn’t accustomed to such positive attention. Poor Mark. All I remember is that I turned him away. And I haven’t really thought of him much over the years, but I definitely remember listening to the Houses of the Holy album as Mark proclaimed his intent.

When you always remember where you were and how you felt when you learned that someone died, you know they made a mark on you. It could be a loved one or a president or an actor or a musician. I definitely remember where I was when I learned that John Bonham (drummer of Led Zeppelin) passed. I was with my high school band, in the stands at the football field.   I was heartbroken. For me, that was the day the music died.

Still, life goes on for those of us left standing. Fast forward 35 years, give or take, and here we are. And I am still a Led Zeppelin fan, though I have expanded to a wide, eclectic range of music interests.

A few years back, I was browsing through a list of upcoming performances at a local performing arts complex, The Smith Center. It is a delightful venue with a lovely art deco style that I adore. I had attended some plays there, and strangely, also saw Weird Al Yankovic perform there. What can I say, Weird Al makes me giggle like a silly 10-year-old. In my perusing of shows, I noticed that a Led Zeppelin tribute band was going to be performing at Reynolds Hall at The Smith Center soon. I thought it would be a fun show, and I was intrigued that they would be playing in that venue. I had to attend.

I went on my own. There was no issue with being alone, though, for a group of four fairly inebriated ladies sat next to me. They adopted me. About halfway through the performance, I was really wishing to be an orphan again, but the well-meaning ladies were having none of that. It was fun anyhow.

The real story is the performance, of course. It blew me away. I was taken aback by the talent on the stage. It wasn’t about pretending to be Led Zeppelin. It was about talented musicians and singers, creativity, and interpretation in a full on production show. The performance was effortless and so right. The musicians had no idea how much I appreciated the majestic performance that night, or how much it took me lovingly back to my teenage years, a trip I rarely refer to as “lovingly.”

I am nostalgic, creature, though. Led Zeppelin was back in my life.

Back to the question, “What is it with you and Led Zeppelin”? I suppose it reminds me of the comfort it gave me as a teenager rather than the turmoil I was feeling. It reminds me that their music was more healing than a handsome, sweet boy who wanted to take care of me forever.

Music is a great healer. It is even scientifically proven to aid in treatment. It is poetry, stories, pain, triumph, love. Consonance and dissonance. It is the timbre, the layers, the raw performances. It is the connection, the battle, the resurrection. It is creativity, genius, showmanship, and contemplative expressions. It can evoke joy or sadness or fervor or reflection. Sometimes it simply has a good beat and you can dance to it. And, at times, it is a powerful emotional trigger to a memorable experience, either good or bad.

Occasionally, music possesses the lyrics of a powerful sentiment or there is a story I essentially make up. By way of example, there are two songs that when I hear, I always think of my brother and become emotional. I don’t avoid these songs, because there is a comfort in remembering my brother who has long ago passed away.

One song is, “Daniel” by Elton John. As I listen, I imagine my brother Daniel in a completely different sort of metaphor, “Daniel my brother…your eyes have died, but you see more than I, Daniel you’re a star.” The second song is “I am” by Train. As I listen to the verses about a man who is questioning what he has done and seen in his life, I am consoled by knowing that my brother has been on a train, and been in the desert, and knew history, and climbed a real rock, and saw Colorado. I am reassured by knowing that while my brother’s life was somewhat short on the timescale, he still saw and did a great deal in his lifetime. Music provides solace in my grief.

I identify powerfully with music. Music has been my great counselor. Thus, Led Zeppelin is still a thing with me.