Ramble On

My favorite cut on the first Led Zeppelin album is "Your Time Is Gonna Come."

Didn't used to be, I came to that one late. I first liked "Good Times Bad Times," it was a perfect single in an era where FM and AM were diverging and the latter would never play anything like it. And then there was "Communication Breakdown," with its machine gun intro, exploding out of the speakers right after the acoustic intrigue of "Black Mountain Side." The cut I loved next was "How Many More Times," which finished the album on a dark note, that was always an element of Zeppelin's greatness, the darkness, something was always hidden, you wanted to go behind that door.

And then came "Your Time Is Gonna Come."

Not made to be a single, it began with a long organ solo (never underestimate the influence of John Paul Jones), and after settling into a groove, the guitar and bass locking in, Robert Plant sang...

"Lyin', cheatin', hurtin'
That's all you seem to do"

I found these lyrics going through my brain at the strangest times, they were a sidekick when I needed one, even if I didn't know it. That's the power of great music, it's there for you, it lifts you up when you're down.

And it took months for Led Zeppelin's debut to gain traction. It was spread via word of mouth, when that was literally done with your lips, before the internet allowed something to catch fire overnight, oftentimes undeservedly. Everybody who was deeply into music acquired it, little was written about it, and then came "Led Zeppelin II."

Imagine having a favorite fishing hole, one where only the biggest trout are caught, that only the cognoscenti know about, and in one week the whole damn world shows up and fishes it out and you're done with it.

That's what happened with "Led Zeppelin II."

Unlike with the first album, radio embraced "Whole Lotta Love." You didn't have to be locked in your bedroom to know it. Retailers stocked enough copies. Everybody rushed out and bought it. It was ubiquitous. Led Zeppelin was suddenly the biggest band in the land. It was like PSY's "Gangnam Style," if that song was better and there were eight more and there were no visuals to speak of. Sure, Jimmy Page had played in the Yardbirds, but they were never that big over here and Keith Relf was the frontman. All we knew about Zeppelin was the credits. And there wasn't much there.

But the strange thing about "Led Zeppelin II" was how playable it was.

Even back then, in 1969, at the height of album rock, LPs contained a bummer or two, a track you lifted the needle over. But not "Led Zeppelin II."

My initial favorite cut was the unheralded and nearly forgotten "Living Loving Maid (She's Just A Woman)." I was into the roller coaster rides, those cuts that twisted and turned at high speed and deposited you on the tarmac of the amusement park wanting to get right back on the ride, salivating for more.

Of course there was the scatological "The Lemon Song," and there were a bunch of cuts with stereo effects that made for great headphone listening when they still did that, but the tracks that refused to fade away and continued to radiate were the ballads. Most notably "Thank You," which Tori Amos does a killer take of, and "Ramble On.'

Now I bought "Led Zeppelin II" the day it came out, borrowed the Vista Cruiser and drove up to Korvette's and laid down my allowance. I came home and dropped the needle and heard it for the very first time, played it incessantly for a week and then gave it up, I knew it, I'd digested it, but worse, everywhere you went you heard it. I know times have changed, but they're still the same, we had highly-marketed acts back then, but if you put out music this infectious today all the trappings would still be irrelevant. They certainly were back then.

And I didn't listen to "Led Zeppelin II" again for six years, until I was stuck in a condo with that and "Physical Graffiti" and a couple of Doobie Brothers albums for a month straight. All those years later I could listen once again. And "Ten Years Gone" became my favorite cut, and it still is, but when I pulled up Zeppelin on my phone the other night and heard "Ramble On" I was astounded.

"Mine's a tale that can't be told
My freedom I hold dear"

Did you watch the last episode of "House Of Cards"? When they were in the desert? I used to spend a lot of time driving cross-country, before there were cell phones, when if you were lucky you got the farm report on the radio, life was so much different then, we weren't all hooked together, we had a freedom we've given up that we are only now realizing we've lost.

That's what I loved about listening to music, the ability to shut out the rest of the world. I didn't want to be social, I didn't want to share, I just wanted to play my records and go to the show and bond with the act.

Jimmy Page recently remastered "Led Zeppelin II." There was a ton of press about it, as if everybody was gonna go out and buy it, as if everybody still had a CD player/disk drive. Today we listen to files, tomorrow it'll all be streams. And big announcements like this and attendant instant sales will be history. It's about setting the record straight, getting closer to the artifact, finance has to take a back seat.

Which is all to say I didn't bother to spin the Zeppelin remasters, the 1990 boxed set was good enough, but when I stumbled upon the remastered "Ramble On" I heard stuff I never did before.

It's John Bonham. Is he playing with his hands? He may be dead, but he's so alive here.

And then John Paul Jones, so lyrical on the bass. From back when bands were such, before records were made by a committee of undertakers called in to compose a hit. When you put four people in a room, a plane, a bus, you come up with something superior to what anyone can do alone.

Not that I want to understate the importance of Jimmy's acoustic guitar, but I could always hear that. And Page is not dominating, he's accompanying, they're all in it together, on the journey of life, led by Robert Plant.

"Leaves are falling all around
It's time I was on my way"

The funny thing is the record came out in the fall. And I hate that season and love it too. The days are getting shorter, the landscape is dying, but as you approach the darkness of winter the mind takes over from the body, this is the season of heavy thought.

"Got no time for spreading roots
The time has come to be gone"

I used to be this person. I was itinerant. If it didn't fit in my car, it didn't make the journey. I was searching for experience, for happiness, and there was little love along the way, not that I didn't hunger for it.

"Ramble on and now's the time
The time is now, to sing my song"

Funny how the distance give you insight. Get old enough and songs make sense in a way they never did before. Robert was a rock star, he wanted to devour life, he didn't want to get stuck in one place, he wanted to experience it all before he settled down.

And like I said, so did I.

I was inspired by the music. Loud and sometimes bombastic, like Led Zeppelin, and quiet and insightful, like Joni Mitchell. If I wanted to know which way the wind blew I turned on the radio, not for the weather report but the records. They were my guide. Inspiring me to take chances, to be all I could be.

There's that break, with one of Jimmy's guitars in each ear, setting your mind free, to contemplate your direction, to take stock and then...

Ramble on.

I saw Led Zeppelin one year later. In the rain at the Yale Bowl. I'd love to tell you the show was transcendent, but they were more disappointing than great. The third album had not yet been released and they played too much of it and they did nothing so much as punch the clock, because once you leave the metropolis it all runs together and rarely matters.

But I did see them again at the Forum in L.A., during their week-long stand back in the spring of '77, when they came to conquer and achieved their goal. It was a tent show for believers, and at that point Jimmy and Robert were more powerful than any religious deity, fans would follow them anywhere. But they were in it for the money and the girls and the music. They needed the adulation but they didn't want to bask in it, because they were different from us, other...which made us want to draw even closer.

"Ramble on and now's the time
The time is now, to sing my song"

It's always now. Jimmy may be unsure where to turn, but Robert's still searching, a golden god casting aside his robes and walking amongst men, a beacon to us all to keep pushing the envelope, to test limits and do the unexpected.

And the glue is music.

Tech is tools.

Music is an essential elixir that changes your chemistry when it flows into your ears. It soothes your wounds and makes you powerful, and keeps paying dividends as time goes by.

I'd heard "Ramble On" enough for a lifetime back in '69. And although I have fond memories of Crazy Elephant, I rarely go back there, the pop music is good for nostalgia but then there are some cuts that keep delivering new insights, like the Bible.

Led Zeppelin were not critically revered in their heyday.

Their manager thought so little of the legacy of their music that he sold the rights to the record company.

But younger generations picked up on the tunes and the internet made Led Zeppelin almost as big today as they were yesterday.

"For now I smell the rain
And with it pain and it's headed my way
Sometimes I grow so tired
But I know I've got one thing I got to do"

I actually like the smell of rain. But no one enjoys the pain. And the older you get the more tired you become. But then you realize there's only one thing you've got to do...

RAMBLE ON!

Spotify playlist: http://bit.ly/1C8g0R7


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