Led Zeppelin members were fans of Vanilla Fudge, singer/keyboardist Mark Stein recalls

To say that the members of Led Zeppelin were inspired by the blues is accurate, but the statement is not by any stretch of the imagination, an all-encompassing observation of the band's vast array of influences.

That's why I didn't know exactly what to make of this article when I ran across it online earlier today, especially given where I was just coming from.

I spent this afternoon in the company of Vanilla Fudge keyboardist and singer Mark Stein. He was gracious enough to talk for over two hours about the formation of his band and his various meetings with Led Zeppelin members over the years. It was in some of those initial encounters that he learned Jimmy Page and John Bonham were fans of Vanilla Fudge's music.

The psychedelic and electric soul that group was producing in the United States had caught the ears of the Yardbirds, of which Page was a member when Stein first ran into him at an airport. A year later, when Zeppelin was playing its first shows in the United States in support of the Fudge, Stein heard the same from Bonham, this young drummer from England who'd been spinning their records.

He has a great story about a chance run-in with John Paul Jones around 1975, and I won't spoil it by leaking it here. You'll be hearing it on "Get the Led Out" sometime next month, the syndicated radio program hosted by Carol Miller. If your local classic rock radio station isn't carrying this weekly, hour-long show that debuted just this month in honor of the 40th anniversary of Led Zeppelin's first album release, tell them to get with the program!

'Surreal' intoned second time in a week to describe Zeppelin close encounters

Is it a common word where some people are from? Some people, two this week in fact, have described their recent meetings with Led Zeppelin rock stars by using the word "surreal."

The first, we saw Tuesday when a member of rock band Alter Bridge confirmed reports that he had been under consideration to sing for Led Zeppelin or some offshoot band. He described his opportunity to play with Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones (plus Jason Bonham, has anybody confirmed?) as "a good experience" and -- this part's important -- "surreal."

Keep that word in mind. It's been used again. A blogger has just labeled "surreal" his change bumping into Robert Plant in public the other day.

The second time in a week! Dare I say that coincidence is ... surreal?

Well, it's true. The second mention is in a blog describing an encounter with Robert Plant in Nashville as "surreal."

As a reminder, Plant's been spotted in Nashville a few times this month, as he's in a studio with Alison Krauss and singing under the tutelage of producer T Bone Burnett, an artist with a creative and directive vision. One woman ran into him in a mall, and he consented to a quick snapshot.

Wonder which mall they were at. I spent some time last summer playing expensive mandolins inside the Gibson guitar showcase/factory at the Opry Mills mall. Same place I had beers with a bartender from Ohio before my afternoon showing of The Dark Knight in IMAX.

Now that was surreal.

I digress. I was talking about why Plant was in Nashville.

He's just gotten a mysterious song list from Burnett, back around the holidays, announcing the songs that will glitter his next album with Alison Krauss. She got the list too. Both singers were allowed to pitch in some songs too, but no more than three each. The album, this one the follow-up to a critically acclaimed collaboration of 2007, is really the brainchild of T Bone.

Plant's probably playing CDs of these recordings in his car. And he's heading out every day, just being a normal person. Rock star? No way. This is Robert. Just some guy named R. A. Plant. And tries not to answer to the name "Percy" when strangers recognize him.

But folks do encounter him. Is it "surreal" though?

Someone thinks so.

Anybody heard of Daniel Tashian? Member of the Silver Seas. If you don't know it, I don't either.

Well, anyway, this guy runs into Plant. Plant doesn't know him either. Guy recognizes him. Plant says hello.

They're at the Mirror. Tapas menu. Good wine selection. Not exceedingly pricey.

Plant's sitting there by himself. Dude goes over. Conjuring their connection in T Bone Burnett, the dude starts to announce he'd done a record with T Bone.

Plant nods. Sure. Hell, half the country has.

No reason for the conversation to continue. That's it, by all rights. No more. You had your chance to talk to Plant. You bombed, Tashian. Now go home.

Dude speaks up again though. He's coming back for more. How's Robert gonna react?

Dude's lucky. He's got an ace up his sleeve. He knows how to connect with Robert. What makes him unique? Or if not unique, at least a rare commodity. Connect to Plant on a familial level.

"My dad was in the Remains."

Good thinking. He actually recalled that Plant was a fan of the Remains, his dad's old band. And given Plant's mental jukebox, you know his record collection is not only a collection but a cherished possession. He plays his vinyl often still. The same format that gave Plant his initial connection with Jimmy Page a hair over 40 years ago, vinyl is still within Plant's reach at all times.

At the mention of that name, Plant instantly recalls the Remains, and he samples some of their 1966 single "Don't Look Back." Sure, from the Nuggets collection!

Holy hell. Does anybody remember ... vinyl? Well, maybe the guy knew Plant had released his own cover of "Don't Look Back" on a maxi-single in 1990, which was re-released on Plant's Nine Lives box set in November 2006 and then as a Manic Nirvana bonus track on pressings released from March 2007 on.

Point is, the dude has succeeded in connecting with Plant. And in the process he deems this brush with stardom "surreal."

Maybe it is surreal. I sometimes look back on my arranged interview of John Paul Jones as something some other person must have done. I look back on the portions of my transcript that made it onto the Internet courtesy of a newsletter I used to write, and I reread them as if I had just reread the Trouser Press interview, which was conducted two years before my birth. But I know I did it because stumbling upon a certain word, phrase or sentence will transport me back to the Grand Hyatt at Penn's Landing, when John Paul Jones last stayed in Philadelphia on tour opening for King Crimson in December 2001.

I remember Jonesy being under the impression that his show at the Tower Theater was that night. But I had to correct him and tell him he had the day off between the previous night's New Haven show and the show in Upper Darby. I knew his itinerary better than he did! And when I informed him that his calendar was open for the rest of the day, he slunk back on a couch and allowed me to question him for four hours straight.

Now that's surreal.

That was me, asking the questions. Asking things I had come up with on my own -- a ton of them, believe me -- and also questions I had gleaned from readers of my newsletter, and some people who were on an online forum who were probably somewhat familiar with my newsletter at the time. It's the newsletter that lent me, a college student at the time, the credibility to sit for any length of time with Led Zeppelin's unsung hero on bass and, like me, keyboards.

I guess the point where I connected with Jones was that. We both play keys. And I wanted to learn how to play pedal steel like he does. We talked briefly about his track called "Chilli Sauce," included on the Scream for Help soundtrack. A rare memory. He remembered.

Once I complimented his handling of the melody on that synth-heavy track, he smiled and said, "Yeah, that was good, wasn't it?" It would have been against my best journalistic ethics to have acquired his autograph on that CD insert I brought.

It was obvious he hadn't thought of this album in a long time. He hesitated and studied the packaging, saying he was unaware of it having been released on CD. I said yeah, it was, and I had to import it from Japan. I had the OBI strip at home.

The disc is red and green, with the same Atlantic logo that comes on my remastered Yes CDs. And, come to think of it, Jon Anderson adds guest vocals to two of the tracks and is listed on the front cover.

Yes gave us some fodder in our four-hour conversation/interview, some of which was taped and half of which was not. Which led him to speak totally off the record on some occasions. Since he was on a support tour and was trying to save money, he had no roadies and as such carried his own instruments, in their cases, into the hotel so he could check himself in under his own legally adopted pseudonym, John Paul Jones (not birth name John Baldwin, which he confirmed does not have a middle name). With these instruments at his disposal, he played anything I wanted.

He busted out a mandolin and played his part in "Going to California." Which I soon wrongly attributed to Jimmy Page in a newsletter, causing him to e-mail me his own objection and correction. I took it more as a compliment that now he was reading and monitoring and reacting and participating.

Interacting with John Paul Jones! Surreal!

That's like playing Peter Frampton's talk box!

I did play the bass lap steel on Jonesy's counter while he wasn't looking. He had stepped away for a minute, leaving me unaccompanied in the presence of his entire touring rig. Of course I went straight for the tone bar and placed it gently on his bass lap steel -- an invention of his own! -- and ran it across the strings. Sounded cool.

I put it away. Still, that crap was just plain damn surreal.

My first-ever interaction with Jones was in downtown Philadelphia, two years and two months earlier, when Jones was on his Zooma tour and headlined at a small venue. The type of venue I could play with my band! But haven't.

And here's John Paul Jones up on stage with two other people in his band. One guy on the "stick," an electronic stringed instrument with synthesizer capabilities as versatile as a Major League utility player. This guy was Nick Beggs from Kajagoogoo. And the other's on drums. Can't remember today if it was Terl Bryant or Pete Thomas. Both drummers were on that album though. (Update: It was Terl Bryant.)

Since I was reading show reviews of this Zooma concert series from Jones online at TBL/Web, I knew it had already become a nightly custom for some informed fan at each show to invoke the line from children's literature John Paul Jones happened to be reading to his children in a scene in The Song Remains the Same.

"Fe fi fo fum."

So I said it. I was that guy. And I turned myself in, guilty as charged, the next day, upon submitting my roundup of the evening's happenings to TBL/Web for publication before the world.

"Fe fi fo fum!" I shouted to Jonesy between numbers.

In the 1976 movie, the next line -- also Jones's -- is "I smell the blood of an Englishman."

So Jonesy plays on that line. "Do you smell blood?"

Oh, he's got a stand-up act and everything! Surreal!

But we were talking about Yes. It came up during our interview that Jimmy Page was once rumored to have had rehearsal sessions with Alan White and Chris Squire, both designated at the time as ex-members of Yes. It was 1981, and Page had likewise been newly christened in some circles as an ex-member of Zeppelin, only because of the de facto dissolution of that band following John Bonham's unexpected and untimely drinking-binge death.

So did these so-called XYZ sessions, long rumored in the lore of both Yes and Zeppelin fans, really take place or not? Jonesy told me no.

But I think he's uninformed. How would he know? He wasn't there!

I have, through a colleague, a supposedly "exclusive" recording of bassist Chris Squire explaining in plain English that he and drummer Alan White had gotten together with Page, and played a few songs of Squire's. Stuff he hadn't used yet. But stuff he was ultimately gonna use with Yes. All except for one track, which he said Jimmy misappropriated half a decade later as the first track on The Firm's second album. Squire says he never sued Jimmy over it, though, because why bother? He would have been owed such an insignificant pittance since Mean Business album sales left something to be desired. Not even worth it to him to think about going after Jimmy.

I asked Jonesy about the whole plagiarism thing in the context of Led Zeppelin. The band is often criticized for similarities between its recordings and ones that preceded it. Jonesy said sometimes the accusers were familiar to them and other times they were not. But most of the time, the band would just settle out-of-court for convenience's sake, whether or not the claim held any credence. They worked off of the assumption of guilt and dished away crazy amounts of payoff money, leaving most claims unverified by anyone.

So as for specifics, like Jake Holmes having performed "Dazed and Confused" as a song of his in a setting that would have been seen by Jimmy Page as a Yardbirds member in 1967, Jonesy doesn't know. All he knows is Jimmy brought the song into Zeppelin and managed to list himself legally as the song's sole composer. More recent reissues have also credited Plant for lyrics. But never credited was Jake Holmes.

Just heard Holmes on the radio the other week. He spoke on a New York show that's being syndicated soon, called Get the Led Out XL. The pilot episode included a pretty good portion of his "Dazed and Confused" from his 1967 solo album The Above Ground Sound of Jake Holmes. He said Jimmy got away with nicking the title and the descending bass line but that was all. No complaint from Holmes.

That, too, is surreal!

Come to think of it, another close encounter is going to happen this summer. Page will be in a movie showing off the inside of Headley Grange, where Zeppelin recorded parts of some albums. To read about the microphone setup for the drums on "When the Levee Breaks" is one thing. But to see and hear Jimmy Page reflecting on that firsthand experience 37 years later? Surreal.

So I guess there's a lot of it going around. People are running into these guys every day and having surreal encounters with them. Just so glad to be lucky enough to remember some from my own experience.

Thanks, Jonesy.

'I just came from this blinding gig ...'

As the story is told, John Bonham once explained his way out of a speeding ticket, enchanting the officer who'd pulled him over with a look under the hood of his brand new souped-up sportscar. In the process, he explained that he had just come off of the natural high of having played a "blinding gig."

Those words came to me last night after I was winding down from my third Houses of the Holy show with Classic Albums Live. I never played a gig in my entire life that was more blinding than Saturday, Dec. 13, at the Paradise Live stage at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood, Fla.

Even a gentleman in the front row who'd seen the Thursday show told me last night there was a considerable difference in the band's performance at those two particular shows. For the most part, we did everything right at that first show, and we gelled. But at last night's show, we not only played it right but did so with a fluidity among us. We were graceful and articulate and heavy and emotional and powerful, all the things that make a Led Zeppelin performance, in addition to the precision that defines a Classic Albums Live performance. This was probably an appropriate mix of tight and loose.

This front-row attendee also commented that I seemed looser onstage. That went without saying. I definitely was. Feeling at home in this band helps out. Craig Martin and Nick Hildyard both made me feel welcome and important with their comments about me to the crowd. But what really made me feel like I was doing something over and above myself was the healthy supply of adrenaline running through my body when I was playing. I mean, here's a guy who can't dance at all, and I'm swinging and swaying through "D'yer Mak'er" and the choreographer's nightmare that is "The Crunge." Not that Merce Cunningham would be impressed enough to recruit me or anything, but I'm just letting the music be my master and heeding the master's call.

Of the most important things that stick out in my mind from the encore set, one is my spontaneous physical reaction while playing a number we hadn't performed at either of the preceding shows or even in rehearsal. Its title, "Since I've Been Loving You," was mentioned in a group e-mail a month ago as one to be prepared to play, but that's it. No further word of playing it until it was the next song, with 10 seconds to go before launching into it.

But I was prepared. I selected the organ sound Nick had shown me on Thursday afternoon, labeled "Soul Man." I had tried out a few seconds' worth of licks on the sound at that time and, finding it to my liking, moved on to something different. Now that sound was coming in handy. We're doing "Since I've Been Loving You" live.

(The physical reaction thing is coming up. Honest.)

I sit down to play the tune. It's an organ I'm playing, and whenever I play the organ I'm sitting. I used to play church organ, after all. And this is no different. The song starts out all somber and delicate. It's fitting to be seated. But there's a point in the song, at its climax, where it becomes necessary to, er, adjust. And that's what I did. The Lemon let loose and sprung up from the stool, simultaneously kicking it backward at a monitor. It was as unanticipated as the song suggestion itself.

And totally unlike John Paul Jones! That's one guy I've never seen throw stuff around onstage.

But I have heard him crack some dry humor at shows. Almost every night on his first solo tour, in 1999, he was having comical exchanges with audience members based on "Fe fi fo fum" and other quotes associated with him. So I tried my hand at some humor last night. Crickets! Yeah, I think I'll stick with the music.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. We are working up a particular number from Presence. We are looking forward to all three of our remaining gigs at Paradise Live, but we'll have extra reason to play it at the last show, since it really will be the last Zeppelin show ever at that little theater. Classic Albums Live will be moving to another South Florida venue in 2009, but we are sure to go out with an unforgettable gig on Saturday the 20th. Probably another "blinding gig."

Update: I added a YouTube video above of the first minute or so of "Stairway to Heaven" from our finale performance on Saturday, Dec. 20.

Encores take high priority at Classic Albums Live 'Houses' show

Led Zeppelin never played "In the Light" live. But Classic Albums Live did, and we nailed it. That's what we kicked off Friday's post-album encore set with, after band introductions by Craig Martin. So it was right after the audience found out I was making my debut with the group this concert series that I gave my best performance of the night.

The only thing done differently from the album version of "In the Light" was I didn't have the delay effect on my lead for the intro and the reprise halfway through the song. I'll probably use that the next time we do the song, after I try it out. This is all new to me, these fancy effects and stuff.

John Paul Jones was in Asheville, N.C., with a bevy of folks jamming on "I Can't Quit You Baby" and "Going to California." In Hollywood, Fla., we had our own crop of celebrities at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino for a Biker Bash afterparty. Richie Sambora and James Belushi were around. We thought we were going to face the proposition of being asked to jam with them. In a way, I'm very glad it didn't happen.

That's because it kept things on track with our band. All but one of the other encores we played were things we ran through only on the day of the gig. The difference between the first and second shows is the crowd. Thursday audiences are all ages, so with the kids there we tend to play more of the radio staples, the Mothership list. Like on Thursday night, "Stairway to Heaven" and "Whole Lotta Love" were a must.

But the more mature Friday night audience allows us to dig out lesser heard Physical Graffiti and In Through the Out Door cuts, for example. "Fool in the Rain," another one Zeppelin never did. I played the jangly piano of "Hot Dog." The guys ran through "Heartbreaker," and I joined for backing vocals on "Living Loving Maid (She's Just a Woman)." Things ended with "How Many More Times," which the band played as a fourpiece to finish things off.

The only encore we repeated from Thursday night was "Moby Dick." Both nights, I watched from the side of the stage mindful of something I recently read, probably on the For Badgeholders Only discussion group: that Robert Plant tended to be attentive to John Bonham's solo at Zeppelin shows because he loved watching his friend reinvent rock 'n' roll drumming on a nightly basis. That might even be an exact quote of what I read. Isn't that a great concept?

We still have a few more surprises in store for the next few shows, which will naturally include the full album of Houses of the Holy. But we have a Presence surprise coming up! I don't even know if Houses of the Holy is legitimately the main attraction anymore, the way these encores are coming along. The four remaining shows are gonna smoke!

Update: This thread on the Classic Albums Live message board is dedicated to the show from Friday, Dec. 12.

Second update: I added a YouTube video above featuring the performance of "In the Light" from our finale performance on Saturday, Dec. 20.

Classic Albums Live conquers 'Houses of the Holy' with Steve 'The Lemon' Sauer on keys

Some last-minute scurrying to figure out a way to get myself to play the keyboard parts of Led Zeppelin's pivotal album Houses of the Holy, and a few other songs we included as encores, paid off. Yesterday was a wonderful day, meeting some very talented and very professional musicians and having the immediate chance to play a proper show with them to an attentive audience.

Now I just have to keep the momentum from that initial experience alive for another week and two nights for the five remaining performances on our schedule. Classic Albums Live tackles the fifth Zeppelin album in its entirety again tonight and tomorrow at 9 p.m. and then again next week with the same schedule (Thursday, Dec. 18 at 8 p.m., Friday and Saturday, Dec. 19-20 at 9 p.m.) on the stage of Paradise Live at the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Hollywood, Fla.

The only band member I knew at all before yesterday was Nick Hildyard, who executed lead vocal duties for Classic Albums Live last month when I saw and reported on their handling of Led Zeppelin's 40-year-old debut album, note for note, cut for cut. And I knew him only because after he read my critical analysis of their performance, he contacted me, figuring I have a pretty good ear and must be a musician. When I told him I was indeed a keyboardist, the first thing he did was rejoice at having discovered another local keyboardist.

Then, without hesitation, Nick invited me to try my hand at Houses of the Holy, which I of course jumped at. For one thing, I'd just moved down to South Florida, and all the musicians I knew were still 1,000 miles north of me. An opportunity not only to get onstage again but to play a better gig than I'd eve had before? Sure, it was going to take some work to ready myself, but it was a challenge I would have been foolish to turn down.

Nick and I got together a couple times between early November and yesterday, and he also often checked in on my progress by e-mail while he was off flying around to distant Classic Albums Live shows in Canada and the United States. Busy guy, but accommodating and also pretty relaxed. I told him I was worried about some keyboard sounds not being totally accurate, but he said not to worry. He lent me a midi console with hundreds of instrument sounds on it.

Unfortunately for me, I never was able to practice with that console on my own because it was incompatible with my primitive keyboard equipment at home! In fact, we discarded my keyboard altogether yesterday because of its limitations. We were at a professional gig, so we were going to use only professional equipment. Nick provided me with some good stuff, and I took some time onstage at our afternoon onstage setup sorting out what sounds would be good for what songs and making copious notes to boot. Now I was starting to sound like the John Paul Jones Orchestra.

As I auditioned this plethora of sounds in my headphones, most of the rest of the group rolled in straight from the airport, where they'd just flown in from Toronto, home of a six-night stint playing nothing but AC/DC's Back in Black. They were jet-lagged and complaining of ringing in their ears and admittedly in need of showers, but it was time to get themselves musically ready first. I was told that we were on an accelerated rehearsal schedule because normally we meet each other a day in advance of our first show rather than the day of it. That wasn't possible this time, so we wouldn't be able to run through everything before showtime. I don't think anybody wanted to anyway.

These guys were getting in, and I shied away from interacting with them except just to introduce myself by name and say it was good to be making my Classic Albums Live premiere with him. I honestly expected them to be inaccessible and arrogant, but no: They were as friendly as Barney the Purple Dinosaur and as neighborly as Fred Rogers. Then, when they heard me play, they were as complimentary of me as my mom!

In Classic Albums Live, these performers don't specialize in any one particular group. They're jacks of all trades. The seasoned veterans have each played dozens of different albums by a wide variety of artists. One Houses of the Holy guitarist, Tom Mcdermott, was pretty new to the thing but already had performed albums by the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac. But they are as competent and fluent in Led Zeppelin's music as any Zep tribute band member I've ever encountered. This made it as awesome to talk with them as it was to play with them.

Of course, I don't think they were expecting to hear that this unknown 29-year-old keyboardist had interviewed John Paul Jones seven years ago, almost to the day. Our bass player, Johnny B., was tickled to find out from me that he's not the only bass player in the world who likes to stay close to the drums when performing live; Jones says the others in Zeppelin would encourage him to play at the front of the stage but he would find himself drifting back toward Bonzo's kit within a song or two.

In the case of our drummer, Rick Vatour, it's with good reason. He and Johnny B. play off of each other unbelievably well. They possess the same chemistry that Jones and John Bonham did, and that Jones evidently has rediscovered with Jason Bonham for quite some time. Johnny and Rick form a tight rhythm section, one that really can't be described as tight but loose like Led Zeppelin's was. This is only by virtue of the fact that Classic Albums Live reproduces with precision the run-through of every song as it was laid down in the winning take in the studio. They aren't improvising; they're faithfully reciting the improvisation that was rendered on tape and played back on home stereo systems and on radio stations billions of times through the ages.

At the show last night, I sat onstage, unoccupied at two keyboards that were useless to me for seven minutes or so, while the band around me ran through an encore version of "Dazed and Confused" when it occurred to me, during Dom Polito's violin bow section with vocal responses, that the real action was happening on the bass and drums. These two guys were essentially playing a duet with each other, not taking their eyes off of each other. They had it all meticulously written out for them in their minds and memories, and the playbook was 40 years old. It was incredible to see, and I look forward to seeing that again soon.

The show wasn't without its gaffes, the majority of which can be blamed on the rookie on the keys. They were things I recognized right away and did what I could to correct them or file them away for future reference. A few notes into my "No Quarter" introduction, I recognized that I didn't have the phase filter on my Rhodes piano sound, but fixing that was just a quick switch away. I inserted one clavinet phrase too late at the ending of "Over the Hills and Far Away," but I won't make the same mistake tonight.

And I committed a song structure error during "Kashmir" that also used to trip up John Paul Jones during live performances to the point that he would have to refer to his own handwritten notes about the song structure at his keyboard to help him from getting off track. Perhaps that's good advice for me too!

I went over some of these blunders with my bandmates after the show, but they were more interested in congratulating me on doing certain things that I did that most keyboardists they've worked with don't. For one, Johnny B. said I was correct in playing low notes on the Rhodes piano sound during the verses of "Stairway to Heaven." He said most keyboardists wrongly believe that's a bass on the record, and he said he was surprised to have finally found a keyboardist who agrees with him that there's no bass in the song until the third verse after the 12-string and Rhodes enter.

Meanwhile, the only constructive criticism I received from Classic Albums Live founder Craig Martin wasn't musical at all. It was on my wardrobe! I shouldn't have exposed the Foo Fighters T-shirt I was wearing underneath my button-down, and socks and shoes should have replaced my flip flops. (Hey, the guy's Canadian, not Floridian, so I'll give him a break!) But Craig did tell me that I had "big eyes and big ears." By this, he meant I was capable of following the other musicians' lead, being ready to interpret musical cues whether by listening or keeping my head up, and blending in accordingly. Craig said, "That's what it's all about." Yes, it is.

And that's something I've been trying to convey to all my bandmates throughout my years of playing. It's the ability that made Led Zeppelin a band of such great performers, and it's what kept them together all the years they were. It's probably what Jimmy Page is experiencing with the Jones-Bonham rhythm section of the 21st century and is drawing that trio back to wanting to work together again, whether or not they're joined by Robert Plant. It's a good thing that magic was there for Tom Mcdermott and me as we worked with the polished band of Nick Hildyard, Dom Polito, Johnny B. and Rick Vatour for the first time. Since our rehearsal time was so limited, it was excellent to go out onstage at showtime and be able to present our magic act to "The Ocean" that had gathered to witness it.

Update: This thread on the Classic Albums Live message board is dedicated to the show from Thursday, Dec. 11.

Second update: I added a YouTube video above of about a minute from our performance of "The Rain Song" on our final night, Saturday, Dec. 20.

Opinion: Jimmy Page needs to move on

As we go deeper into this 21st century and this instant-gratification information age, I can't help but question to what extent the band has become popularized to the point of no return.

If that's the case, and if there's a bit of remorse on Jimmy Page's side, I wonder to what extent this emotion is driving his decision-making today.

I wonder if his fear is driving his indecision when it comes to unveiling the long-delayed next phase of his career.

Page has been the self-appointed protectorate of Led Zeppelin throughout and following the era of manager Peter Grant, who astutely acquired a record deal for Led Zeppelin on the unprecedented contingency that the band was guaranteed exclusive control over its own image and recordings.

The band used this to great effect for some time, resisting TV appearances on the notion that Led Zeppelin was too monstrous an entity for small screens. On the road, the band hired a monstrous sound system, and only a leased jet would do when it came to transporting themselves across the United States. The group stopped touring England after January 1973 because its audience had grown too big for any venue that wasn't centrally located.

When they finished up their record-setting five-night run in May 1975, Robert Plant joked onstage that it would be their last concert in England until the 1980s. As it turns out, he wasn't far off the mark.

They didn't sell singles. You had to buy the album. If you liked that song "Kashmir" and wanted a copy, you'd have to buy an album with 15 songs spread across four sides. Ha. Kids now take it for granted that iTunes sells Led Zeppelin tracks individually for a buck apiece.

Everything about Led Zeppelin was big. Big sights, big sounds. But it wasn't just size that counts (right, guys?). There were also a bunch of mysteries.

Led Zeppelin's albums themselves were shrouded in mystery. There was the untitled one with no labeling information on the outside. Then there was the one that was sold in a brown paper bag so you couldn't tell exactly what you were getting. The artwork on the 1990 box set was right on in that regard. Featuring the crop circles may have been the last great decision by the Led Zeppelin organization.

When I interviewed John Paul Jones in 2001 and acquired stories from him that dispelled some long-held myths about the band, he second-guessed his own unlimited honesty, interjecting that he'd still like to leave a little bit of mystery to Led Zeppelin. I agreed, but author Mick Wall now believes he has lost his friendship with Page by breaking that barrier from the inside and writing a biography he says is revealing and painfully accurate.

The year 2007 was a red-letter year for a wave of small things officially sanctioned by Led Zeppelin that don't necessarily hold up to the principles of enormity and mystery:

• The Song Remains the Same, a grandiose film once savored at midnight showings was scaled down for your home. Oh, but we can justify this because in-home TVs and sound systems are better nowadays. Sure, but that doesn't explain why an inferior version of the movie was ever available on VHS in the first place. (Does anybody remember VCRs?)
• Mothership was a two-disc distillation of the group's studio output, and it was a rehash of not one but two other very similar distillations the band had produced. But this can be condoned because it's only a sampler that introduces new generations to the real stuff, right? And the artwork on Mothership is great and mysterious, right?
• iTunes began selling Led Zeppelin tracks individually for a buck apiece. The "it's only a sampler" argument to defend this decision is on even shakier ground here.
• The band started putting short videos on its own YouTube channel. It wasn't just the few promotional relics that were made years ago for "Whole Lotta Love" and "Travelling Riverside Blues." It was live footage. It's great to see this stuff, but it's minimalistic and low-quality, and YouTube just smells like populism. Peter Grant takes another spin around in his grave.
• Led Zeppelin launched its own official Web site, one component of which is the gateway to an online marketplace of officially sanctioned merchandise. As a result, fans can toss their dollars at a company called Bravado to get a Led Zeppelin beach towel and matching bag, a barstool, a blacklight poster, a hoodie. Peter Grant is getting his workout in the cemetery as long as there's another dollar out there to be earned off of Led Zeppelin's name with the stars and stripes behind it.

One other event in 2007 that is important to the legacy of Led Zeppelin is that reunion concert held one year ago this month. While the world wanted to knock down the doors of the O2 arena on Dec. 10 and get a peek inside, the number of people who were there was less than 20,000. This was a way of resisting the temptation to cater to the masses. The goal was simply to pay tribute to Ahmet Ertegün with all proceeds going to the education fund started in his name. How'd they do? "Hey, Ahmet, we did it!" I think they pulled this off incredibly well despite the initial glitches in the ticketing process.

But since that O2 concert was filmed, there must be temptation to release a video of it. You can almost guarantee it would outsell Lil Wayne and Kid Rock and Katy Perry combined. But isn't that just the point? They'd just be making more money, and they don't need that. They'd be catering to public demand, and the Led Zeppelin of old might have been against that.

The other day, I speculated here that a one-off Led Zeppelin reunion filmed in ground-breaking 3-D could satiate unlimited generations of fans forever. But that's precisely my point: Why would Led Zeppelin set out to satiate its fans? Page must be well aware that the law of diminishing returns predicts the demand for a 3-D theatrical release wouldn't sustain itself over time. If you make Led Zeppelin so accessible to the consumer and increase the supply, what does that eventually do to the demand?

Maybe that concept is exactly what Plant was thinking earlier this year when he told GQ magazine why he didn't feel a Led Zeppelin world tour was something he wanted to do. Plant said, "Led Zeppelin's never been about the fans. We've always been about four guys coming together to make thrilling, disturbing rock 'n' roll. On our own terms." Would a 3-D theatrical release be acceptable and defensible?

On the other hand, would it be only one of many options that would distill and minimize our mammoth rock group? Our hopes for a reunion tour and a new album would only appease our selfish demands. Man, we're just coddled fans who feel we deserve everything we want. We're nothing more than spoiled brats demanding Santa Claus to provide everything on our wish list. Doesn't all of this reek of compromising the principles of our favorite band ever?

But who here has compromised it? Who's the guilty party? Look again at everything that happened in 2007. Isn't this something Led Zeppelin has compromised itself?

And now that we have a little taste, now that the band has reunited so perfectly and proven itself capable of giving a flawless performance once again, we only want more. Can you blame us? Anyone can see that the genie has been let out of the bottle. Perhaps, as Page famously suggested to Mojo magazine a year ago, they never should have let the genie out of the bottle.

Screw it, Jimmy. Go ahead and tell us what your next band will be like. Forget your image. Just go out there and play some killer music already. Do it quickly before John Paul Jones and Jason Bonham slip away from your grasp once and for all. Can't you see that Michael Lee is already gone. Robert Plant's a lost cause. You can have Jones and Bonham today. Go and get them.

Defending the work of Led Zeppelin is a task that is unending. But your work as Jimmy Page the artist is for a limited time only. You must act now.

Devoted fans are standing by.

A very Zeppelin morning in Washington, D.C.

When I arrived at work today, one of my coworkers greeted me and immediately told me to look at the Style section of the Washington Post I was already carrying in my hand. I'm glad I did because there's an excellent concert review submitted by a fan by the name of Erik Huey. The guy appears to be very well versed in his Led Zeppelin reading, referencing the "sons of thunder" comment and other details only hardcore Led Zeppelin fans would know. Perhaps he visits my blog...?

Here is what Huey was thinking during their performance of "Dazed and Confused":

It is not long before the violin bow comes out, which Page proceeds to use for his trademark assault on his Les Paul. All notions of rock idolatry aside, it has now become obvious that Page is simply not human. He is some kind of formless shape-shifter, channeling darker forces as he languidly glides across the stage, his visage made all the more eerie by the shock of white hair that flows to his shoulders.

As part of Huey's personal story, he recounts a typical scenario he encountered during his transcontinental trip to England. It's like he's telling an old joke we've all heard before but is worth repeating in its latest incarnation:

I'm standing in front of a young customs agent at Heathrow who asks, "What is the purpose of your visit?" "To see Led Zeppelin," I emphatically reply. She nods politely and says "Oh, Led Zeppelin, is it? When is he playing?"

Talk radio station WWWT had also played a one-minute clip from Monday's performance of "Black Dog" and went into a bit of discussion about the Led Zeppelin reunion. Cohost David Burd said he'd seen some Youtube clips of the band and was very impressed with what she saw. His counterpart, Jessica Doyle, said she'd heard that the guys in the band are playing better now than they did back in the '70s – reason being that "they're clean now," she said. Then Burd joked that Jimmy Page does admit to being addicted to Vicks VapoRub, smearing it on his guitar so that he can slide his strumming hand down the neck of the guitar more easily. Burd also asked whether a DVD is going to come out officially. The British accent-using sideman who calls himself Nigel said it's positive there would be an official release. As to when it would be out? "Not soon enough," he said, adding, "I could get you one in an hour" off the Internet, claiming he has some connection with the soundboard man.

You'd think talk radio in Washington, D.C., would be completely engulfed in waterboarding and the presidential race. Well, it's not completely engulfed. We do still have personalities. Led Zeppelin is the talk of the town. I'm sure others of you in your respective cities and towns have heard or read coverage of the concert like this. One person listening to 100.7 The Bay – a Baltimore station, if I'm not mistaken – responded with a comment about the coverage on that station, and I read that Seattle was this way Tuesday morning with a local TV station going gaga over the group. How is the band being treated in your area? Comments, please!

Why I don't like to play Led Zeppelin live

Led Zeppelin is my favorite band. I'm a musician. Why don't I really like to play their music live?

The answer relates to my theory about performing any cover song live. That theory stipulates that if you are going to play a song that has been done before, your performance had better really be something.

If it's a rockin' song, you had better plan on rockin' out at least as much as the original did, if not more.

If it's a subtle song, you had better plan on making a beautiful musical statement -- and keeping your audience enticed the whole way through.

Anything short of that, and there was no purpose in you attempting to do the song in the first place.

So, when it comes to playing Led Zeppelin's music, there's an awful lot to live up to. It is my favorite group, and it had four of the most amazing performers playing some of the greatest rock songs ever. How can you even touch that?

Luckily, I have been in a band for the last few years that has pulled off a rockin' version of "Kashmir." I was doubtful when the song was first suggested that we could pull it off anything like Led Zeppelin did. But it turns out that we rock it out as well as some live renditions. Good enough for me!

We've also played "Immigrant Song," but our renditions don't rock quite as hard as any by Led Zeppelin. That's one that I think ought to be dropped from the set list.

Our bass player felt the same way about the Rush song "Red Barchetta." He loves Rush, and that's one of his favorite songs of all time. But after we rehearsed it for about a year, he insisted that we were still to rough and the song needed to be dropped. Dude almost quit the band over it!

A few hours ago, I was at an open mic night in Alexandria, Va., for no other reason than to find out if this drummer who e-mailed me today is any good. The open mic night was run by a bandmate of his, this dude named Eric. I found out about the open mic night when I was researching the drummer, and I figured showing up and asking for a recommendation would just be, naturally, another part of my research on the drummer.

Well, turns out the drummer was there, and I didn't even know it at the time! That's what I found out when I asked the open mic night guy if he knew of any drummers who might be looking for a new band. He mentioned a friend of his, whose name matched up with that of the guy who had e-mailed me. I didn't let on that these guys were one and the same, so I could get an honest opinion about this guy. He raved about the drummer and said they had been playing together for a long time. My brain went ding-ding-ding!

I asked about the guy I had just seen leave a few minutes earlier, carrying a conga drum. Turns out that was this drummer, and I didn't get to speak with him! It's a shame, too, because I had almost chased him down outside to ask if that conga drum meant he was a drummer and happened to be looking for a band. Little did I know that this guy I almost tracked down outside was the guy I was researching all along.

So, anyway, I now have a good feeling about this guy -- and about his buddy who led the open mic night too. I had put my name in the ring to play some tunes on the 88-key Kurzweil keyboard that just happened to be three. When it was my turn to shine, I introduced my first number as one made famous by an Alexandria native; it was "Riders on the Storm" by the Doors. (A book was just published about the life and times of Jim Morrison in his D.C.-area hometown.) While I was playing this, the open mic guy started playing along on acoustic guitar. That was fun. I segued nicely from "Riders" into one I have never heard another keyboard player attempt, "Roundabout" by Yes. We played that full song together.

Next, I played an original that has a lot of weird chord changes. Although I wrote this song -- music and lyrics -- back in July 1994, I myself am not sure whether it is in the key of B or B minor! The guy on acoustic guitar followed along and played, though the song was unfamiliar to him. Kudos to him for keeping up with me!

After that, I looked at the time. I had been in a hurry to make a train into D.C. at 11:03 p.m., departing from a station that was a five-minute walk away. The time said 11:03 exactly, so since making that train was no longer a reality, I was no longer bound by the clock. Instead of leaving right there and then, I settled in for at least one more song.

To start, I played another one from my past, this one written about eight years ago by a friend of mine who was playing in a band with me in Pennsylvania. I led it straight into the closing portion of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," which I was sure the guitar player would pick up on right away -- and he did.

That's all I had planned on playing. Open mic guy kept me up there and asked if I could play "Breathe." Naturally! We played that one together. I sang both verses until the part when the album version would have transitioned into "On the Run." I was ready to start goofing around but heard the guitar player keep on going through the chord progression. So, I took a solo as we went through those chord changes a couple of times. After this, we skipped "Time" and completed it with me singing the "Breathe" reprise.

After this, the guy suggested some Steely Dan song I didn't know very well, so instead I played some bits from "Tarkus" by Emerson, Lake & Palmer. This alienated the guitarist, unfortunately, as pretentious ELP is wont to do, so he sat back as I played as much as I could of the song without making a fool of myself. Come to think of it, he started backing me during the keyboard solo in the "Stones of Years" section.

As soon as that was all over, so was open mic night, and the bar was pretty much ready to close. Before I left, the open mic night guy handed me his business card and said I should e-mail him to get the drummer's contact information (haha, little does he know I already have it!) and possibly to get together with him to jam sometime this weekend! It's cool how stuff works out.

Now, why did I pick the songs I did? Because I can play them well (and because I was confident enough in my pitiful singing that I could pull them off). Why didn't I go for anything by Led Zeppelin? Please. Do you really think a two-man bar atmosphere can do justice even to the simplest of Zeppelin songs?

Come to think of it, "Hats Off to (Roy) Harper" would have worked well. Dammit!

Adieu to a great band; thanks for the jams

Last night, I said farewell to a great group of people I have had the pleasure of meeting this year, the members and entourage of the band Alowishious Farhatt. Hopefully, it's more of a "farewell for now" as they relocate from the busy D.C. area to the storied musical hotbed in Memphis, Tenn., which has called out to them. They're in search not necessarily of stardom but just appreciative audiences. "L.A.'s too far, and New York's too expensive," said Rick Patoray, founder of the group, last night.

The first time I saw his band was on April 14, a Saturday night out with some friends at a bar in Arlington, Va. We were seated in a booth, sipping down Red Bulls and vodka while munching on some quesadillas. We were trying to have a conversation when we all started to pay attention to the band performing on a tiny stage hidden behind some uninhabited tables.

Song after song, solo after solo, this classic rock cover band made our ears perk up. It wasn't just each member's abilities that made us take notice but also their song choices. For instance, they tore up the Rolling Stones' faux-disco radio staple "Miss You," and they strutted their way through a version of "Stray Cat Strut" that incorporated a small passage of Henry Mancini's "Pink Panther" theme. What topped everything else was when, at my sarcastic "like-they'll-ever-be-able-to-play-this" request, these guys impressively launched into the entire medley on the B-side of the Beatles' Abbey Road, using only guitar, bass, drums and their own vocals. These were things I'd never heard a band do before. Holy crap, are these guys for real?

It was obvious to me that they really appreciated good music. That's why it struck me odd to find out, upon further investigation, that they were all under the age of 24. It was a pretty amazing respect for music they possessed, something I also had at that age although I was unable to find likeminded individuals who were willing or able to put it toward forming a band that would play out for the sake of having fun and making good music.

During a break between sets that night, I chatted with these three guys and described myself as a frustrated keyboard player who can jam with the best of them. Casually, they invited me to sit in with them the next time they were around. Were they sure they wanted to take my word for it and let me sit in next time without first hearing me? Wouldn't they want to invite me to a few rehearsals first just to get some kind of inkling of what kind of player I am or what songs I know? No, said Rick Patoray, the oldest member and who started the band six years ago. He told me they are playing over 100 shows a year and never rehearse. Or maybe he said each show is a rehearsal for the next.

Either way, they called me a few weeks later to tell me when I should be at their next show at the same bar. Friends and I arrived early, towing my keyboard and minimal necessary components and wondered whether they would really invite me to the stage at some point, for a couple of songs in their last set maybe. We got there about an hour before they did, and so I'm sure I looked pretty silly trotting in a single giant keyboard and not knowing exactly where to stash it in the meantime. Finally, when they arrived, they told me to get set up right there with them. They would have me play the first few songs, and if it was good, I could jam all night.

On guitar and vocals, Rick Patoray was capable of squelching out solos in the vein of Stevie Ray Vaughan or whichever guitarist was appropriate for each song. Bassist Zach Bossart provided smooth support for every tune, also doubling on backup vocals. On drums and vocals (alternating lead duties with Rick), Kenny Thomas banged out some masterful rhythms and fills. And in the middle of it all, I was there, telling them between songs whether or not I could play the suggestion they made. Most of the time, it was a yes, and we just jumped right into it so quickly that we didn't even discuss what key we would play it in. But we all came in together, and it all worked out fine -- so fine that they invited me back for each of their monthly gigs. I gladly participated in three of them, including last night, and they warmly accepted me into the fold each time, even giving me the spotlight for some of their famous organ solos, namely Del Shannon's "Runaway" and the Animals' "House of the Rising Sun."

Now they're heading off to Memphis, where they hope things will go better for them. They've been around Northern Virginia for long enough to see that audiences generally don't take too kindly to the noise they're making. Here in the D.C. area, bars are full of guys who just want to "mack on chicks," and a loud band playing "daddy's music" is bothersome. That's exactly what we saw last night in Arlington, Va.

Last night, we played: "One After 909" by the Beatles, "Pride and Joy" by Stevie Ray Vaughan, "Runaway" by Del Shannon, "Stray Cat Strut" by the Stray Cats, "I Shot the Sheriff" by either Bob Marley or Eric Clapton (our rendition was a mix of both), "Get Back" by the Beatles, "Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat" by Bob Dylan, "So Happy Together" by the Turtles, "Lady Madonna" by the Beatles, the traditional "Happy Birthday" for someone turning 21 followed by "Birthday" by the Beatles, "The Lemon Song" by Led Zeppelin (you bet!), and "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones.

For the beginning of set two, Rick handed off his guitar to Kenny and went over to play the drums. They trade instruments regularly for a few songs, and what's surprising is that Kenny has a fine command of guitar too! With this alternate lineup (shown in the photo at right), we played "Have a Cigar" by Pink Floyd, "No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature" by the Guess Who, "Karma Police" by Radiohead, "Psycho Killer" by the Talking Heads, and finally some song by either 311 or Sublime that I didn't know apart from fudging my way through it at each of my previous three gigs with them.

Thanks to my buddy Ben for the photo above.

The rest of our second set, with the normal lineup back in position, continued as follows: "Say It Ain't So" by Weezer, the Abbey Road medley by the Beatles (including that "Her Majesty" bit after "The End"), an impromptu "Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar)" while Rick used the men's room, segueing nicely into "Don't Let Me Down" by the Beatles upon his return, and "Let It Be" by the Beatles. During that song, my note taker left, and all I can remember playing afterwards are "Up on Cripple Creek" by the Band, "My Name is Mud" by Primus (which I had never heard before and so I didn't play along until the second verse), "The Weight" by the Band, and we definitely closed with "Tomorrow" by Silverchair.

The audience reception last night to our sets was tepid and apathetic. A couple of dudes stood with their backs to the bartender to face us, applauded every tune as soon as they recognized it, and came up to us after each song to tell us how great it sounded. Other than these two guys, the place was packed with twentysomethings engrossed in conversations aimed at drowning out the band. One buxom blonde did approach me and asked if we could play requests, and I said yes, but there was no song title she particularly had in mind, so she went away and we didn't see her again.

This is typical for the area, Rick told me, adding that he hated that place in particular because the patrons there were always like that. Now he and his bandmates have themselves become jaded, apathetic and tired of the D.C. area, to the point that they would run through a song for the first time ever onstage, without any rehearsal other than telling each other what song they were about to attempt.

That's how our Guess Who cover came about. They said they'd heard it on the radio on the way to the gig and decided they wanted to try it out. It was the second song after the break. But the funny thing is that it actually comes off well whenever they try something new onstage. The reason is, Rick explained, that they've been together for so long -- six years -- that now they just instinctively follow each other.

Their overall notion for their shows in Northern Virginia has been that there's barely anybody who will be impressed. That also accounts for why they didn't bat an eyelash in telling me to come and jam with them at a gig, and then having me back month after month. Basically, they had nothing to lose when it came to these gigs. They were already assured of a testy reaction, so what would be so bad if they made a mistake in playing an unrehearsed song or inviting a total stranger to sit in?

As with their successful performances of unrehearsed songs (seven last night were things they never played together before), their decision to let me tag along was the right one. They said having me there broke up the monotony of those 100 similar shows a year. For instance, on the Beatles medley, Rick could sit back a little knowing I would play all the keyboard parts, whereas normally he would overextend himself to pick at them on the guitar. It also meant Rick could hand off solos to someone who wasn't playing bass or drums, and that he and I could do some back-and-forth interplay. We were doing this right from that first night I jammed with them.

With the lethargy of their listeners having grated on them long enough, now Alowishious Farhatt is actually doing something about it. Memphis, to them, represents greener pastures, where they're told nice folks go out to a bar with the specific intention of watching a band. And because alcohol is there, they drink too. The group may not make it big-time, but they are optimistic in believing there are more pleasant experiences to be had.

Farewell for now! I'll see you guys in Memphis someday.

Led Zepland, you got the chops

This news originally appeared in an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History."

One of Jimmy Page's first actions after turning 60 years old last month was to sit in an audience to see a replica of his younger self in action. The news that Page went to see a Led Zeppelin tribute band came to me during a recent visit to TBL/Web.

A link from that site took me to a group photo with their special guest. At right, the group's drummer has the look to play John Bonham. At left, the group's John Paul Jones reminds me more of Mick Fleetwood. And in the center, the real Page wraps his arms around the two others -- the singer, an accurate Robert Plant look-alike from Ireland, and the guitarist. Aside from the black dragon outfit that clearly screams out Page, I'd say this guy resembles the offspring of Queen guitarist Brian May and saxophonist Kenny G. Led Zepagain is a hodgepodge from a visual standpoint, but Jimmy was reportedly impressed with the music in their backstage meet that night.

Upon learning of Page's guilty pleasures, I thought to myself: If a man of Jimmy's wise, old age is "Going to California" (pardon the pun) to watch a Led Zeppelin tribute band, then why shouldn't Steve "The Lemon" Sauer have a similar experience? I was flying to Orange County on business in a few days, and I'd heard of another tribute band in the area that had a buzz following it, Led Zepland. I decided that while I was in the area, I'd check out the tribute action to see what the hubbub was all about.

A few days in advance, I told guitarist Gary "London" Lohre that I was on my way. Now, truly, I know I am just a news reporter and student of journalism who honed his skills early with a specialized newsletter dedicated to Page, Plant, Jones and Bonham. I'm no god. I'm not even Cameron Crowe. But for some reason, when I met Gary and the rest of the band, I received celebrity treatment. The drummer offered to be my chauffeur, just like Bonham who offered to be Led Zeppelin's official driver for a few extra quid. The tribute band took me out with them between sets to a pub down the street, and the drinks were on them.

All four guys were eager to know how I thought they measured up, and I was happy to report to each one: "You got the chops." This was especially welcome news for vocalist Shawn Kelly, a tall specimen with all of Plant's classic onstage moves in full effect. As Shawn downed a single shot of Jägermeister next to me, he said it was one of a few good treatments he knew to keep his high voice in shape for the second set. (I was quizzed as to what happened on that late January day in Led Zeppelin history; I said I didn't remember exactly but was pretty sure every day that week had something to do with Plant getting the flu, sounding awful and canceling some tour dates.) We discussed Plant's Achilles heel, so to speak, which was belting out high-intensity, high-range chestnuts night after night for years straight. Shawn assured me he knew how to save himself from the fate Plant suffered in the mid '70s when his voice could no longer match that of earlier in the decade.

Two seats from me, drummer Scott Misner was also pleased to learn I was impressed by his playing. (Or was he more relieved than pleased?) Although a veteran drummer, as the newest member of Led Zepland, he said he was just starting to gel with the band. Scott also told me it was the first time he was in a band where he'd have to specialize in playing the licks of one particular drummer. It sounded to me as if he'd been playing that way his whole life. Scott said his pre-school-aged daughter already has a mini drum set and would hopefully learn from her father. Yes, he knew that's what John Bonham did for his son Jason by bestowing upon the boy a scaled-down version of his own kit.

Out and about elsewhere, the bass and keyboards player came by the pub for a drink and then probably spent the rest of the 15- minute break scouting for another party, or for his beloved lady. How eerily it was like John Paul Jones had told me in Philadelphia back in 2001: He partied just as much as the other guys in the group, but the reason he wasn't spotted as much was because he'd be off somewhere else doing the partying. I suppose that's what the story is with John Baxter, a multi-instrumentalist who later that night showed himself versatile enough to play bass on "Thank You" for the first time ever, allowing yours truly to edge in on one of his two Kawai keyboards.

If I were limited to naming one musical highlight of the evening, doing so would be neglecting dozens of moments that, to me as a Led Zeppelin fan, were indispensable. As I said, they all have the chops. Recalling each individual, I can think of at least one personal highlight: John Baxter's nimble bass playing on "What Is and What Should Never Be," Shawn Kelly's groovy Valhalla wail and tambourine shaking on "Immigrant Song," and Scott Misner's impromptu drum solo bridge connecting "How Many More Times" into "Out on the Tiles" just before the end of the first set.

For me, the real treat was seen standing on stage left, dressed in a black shirt with yellow stars alongside the collar, and playing a guitar. Man, does Gary "London" Lohre ever have the chops! He clearly demonstrated this over and over that night, but especially during a vicious run-through of "Dazed and Confused" for which he played the second half with a broken string dangling from his ax. Gary also treated us to a markedly crowd-pleasing "Heartbreaker" solo. The guy's amazing.

After an encore, the band members disappeared and then quickly reassembled in their street clothes, without their wigs and gimmicks to make them appear the part. The only ones I could easily recognize was Shawn, who really is a smiling, tall blond guy in his natural state, and Gary, who makes no apologies for not looking like the guitar hero, standing at a monstrous height with blond hair hanging below his shoulders. John and Scott, though, would be hard to pick in a lineup.

On the way home, chauffeur Scott told me he's already ordered a custom Bonham mustache made by a former FBI employee who'd worked in making false facial hair and wardrobes for undercover agents. Plus, the band has been working on adding some new material to the set lists -- that is, "new" as in "When the Levee Breaks" and a few others from the Zeppelin catalog. After all these years, it looks like the boys truly were right: "The Song Remains the Same." Visit Led Zepland, the ultimate tribute, on the Web here.

Sad news from Russia: my reaction

This news originally appeared in an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History."

While taking a holiday weekend off from writing the newsletter and checking my e-mail, I was saddened to learn that suicide bombers took the lives of at least 16 people and injured dozens of others at a rock music festival near Moscow. My heart goes out to the people affected by this unfortunate act.

In another twist of sad coincidence, I realized that the event took place on July 5, on the 32nd anniversary of the most tragic incident at a Led Zeppelin concert. In the 1971 incident, 12,000 people attending a music festival at the Vigorelli bicycle stadium in Milan, Italy, were tear gassed by thousands of police on hand at the government-sponsored festival.

After dozens of canisters of tear gas were fired into the audience, Led Zeppelin finished its set with stinging eyes and then ended up deserting the stage for a tunnel filled with tear gas. As John Paul Jones told the story, roadies were trying to retrieve the band's equipment from the stage when the entire audience was forced to move forward through the stage area. The event resulted in arrests and injuries, and the newspapers sided with the police, calling the festival attendees "ruffians."

On a much more positive note, July 6 marked the beginning of the last leg of the 1973 tour. After a well-deserved month of rest since its last concert in America when the band members had pushed themselves to their physical limits, the group catapulted from a Hawaiian vacation onto the stage of the Chicago Stadium. At the time, Led Zeppelin was refreshed and rejuvenated, having spent a full month away from the touring circuit. And so, the group's ninth tour of North America blasted back on the track.

Letter-writing campaign: We should really spell 'Led Zeppelin' correctly

These comments originally appeared in an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History."

If you have a minute or two to spare, do the following to get a message out about Led Zeppelin. Click here for a Motor Trend article on the new look of Cadillac. All I read was the first paragraph, where Led Zeppelin's name is misspelled. Click on the author's name, Thomas Voehringer, and you'll be taken to a page featuring his biography. At the bottom of that page, click on "Contact Us," and you'll be taken to a feedback form. At the top, choose "Truck Trend Editors" as the destination, fill in as much or as little of your contact information as you want below, and for the comments enter some text like the following:

"Art Director Thomas Voehringer made a comment on 'Led Zepplin's back catalogue' in a May 15 article on the new look of Cadillac. If Thomas were really familiar with this rock group's back catalogue, he would know that the correct spelling of the band's name is 'Led Zeppelin.'"

You might also want to mention that new CD and DVD releases that will blow him away are just 11 days away. Click "Send Mail," and you've done your service to the band's name!

Q magazine's special edition quotes yours truly

This news originally appeared in an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History."

The 148-page special issue of Q dedicated to Led Zeppelin is still available for purchase at www.q4music.com -- Go there and click on "Special Issues" at the left. And guess who's mentioned on page 129?

Zepfest 2003: What was and what we're glad wasn't meant to be

This news originally appeared in an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History."

"It's always something, isn't it?" Grant Burgess snickered on Friday, April 11, just after I arrived for the inaugural event of Zepfest 2003. Grant could easily go on for hours listing the many occurrences that have threatened the existence of his (mostly) annual get-together. "This year, it's the SARS, and I guess some people had to cancel because they were a little uneasy about coming to Toronto."

News of the Serious Acute Respiratory Syndrome and a few cases in Toronto were common knowledge to a good percentage of attendees before they flew in or drove up to Toronto for the Led Zeppelin convention. Nevertheless, those who'd been at previous years' shows commented that attendance did not seem to be down in any way. By the end of the weekend, there was most likely nobody unfamiliar with SARS, thanks to the ingenious idea of one exhibitor to hand out specially designed Zepfest 2003 surgical masks to those making a purchase. Because it seems nobody was infected with SARS that weekend, this gag gift will go down in history as a sign of what we're glad wasn't meant to be.

Speaking of gag gifts, the Zepfest 2003 mug actually says "Zepfest 2002" on it. Some attendees commented that it's rather fitting. As Led Zeppelin fans, they're well aware that even the band had a hard time getting certain things right at the printers. That's something we've seen many times over, particularly with album covers. Most recently, a mailing list at www.ledzeppelin.com sends an automatic response in which the band's name is spelled incorrectly. So, the misprinted mugs could become more of a collector's item someday.

On to the events: Zepfest kicked off with drinks at Healey's. Before the main act took center stage, fans were treated to bootleg video of Led Zeppelin's filmed Seattle 1977 performance; new bootleg releases of this video shown at Zepfest blow away versions previously seen in the black market. Spectacular versions of "Since I've Been Loving You" and "Achilles Last Stand" set the tone for the evening's main act, Canada's Led Zeppelin tribute band Zeppelinesque.

Four band members took the stage: one gorgeous female bassist, one drummer, and two guitarists! Nobody was standing in front of the center microphone, and so ensued shouts of "We need a singer!" A tall, lanky man with a straggly wig and an open shirt pushed his way through the ocean of people and took the stage to much laughter and cheers. He knocked over at least one beer on the way to the stage, for which he publicly apologized after finishing a song.

The singer had a small arsenal of Robert Plant's moves at his disposal, but the people around me agreed with my comment that his voice was less like Plant's and more like that of Geddy Lee, lead singer of Canada's own Rush. After I made the comment, it became tougher for my friends to listen to these versions of Physical Graffiti tracks when you're expecting to hear the singer bust into "Fly by Night."

The rest of the band was great: right on with arrangements of Led Zeppelin's studio catalogue. Zeppelinesque played a few songs that you'd be hard-pressed to find on a greatest hits album or in any Led Zep set list. Each rarity made the crowd go wild, but the highlight of the first set was probably a version of "Dazed and Confused" based on the six-and-a-half-minute version that graces the first side of Zep's debut album. The group's lead guitarist played a violin bow solo but chose to keep things going and not to indulge too much.

On the following day, the commercial exposition at Healey's and a post-convention reception were supported by more video screenings of our favorite band in action. Some recent footage of Robert Plant's Strange Sensation also received some play and appreciation among gawking fans.

For me, the best part of the convention was meeting people and being able to discuss how checking out our heroes' favorite music has affected us. There were people, like me, who rediscovered the music of groups like Love and Moby Grape just because Robert Plant has dropped their names in many interviews between the 1960s and today. It's rare that in my personal life I can find fellow fans to sit down with and discuss a rare B-side or particular live version. That's why these get-togethers are so special.

Even more of a trip was meeting people who didn't recognize the name Steve "The Lemon" when I introduced myself and couldn't say they recalled ever reading "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History." But when they found out about the four-hour interview I conducted with John Paul Jones a few years back, they enthusiastically listened to me recanting the words he told me and the impressions he gave me. One tidbit about the 1995 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame reunion I haven't seen repeated elsewhere is mentioned on page 129 of Q magazine's special issue devoted to Led Zeppelin.

It was an April Fool's morning when he told us they would go ...

The following is adapted from an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History."

One year ago today, when all some fans needed was the slightest glimmer of hope that Led Zeppelin was on the path toward reuniting, a Los Angeles DJ made a brief announcement similar to this:

"Well, folks, it's finally happened. Led Zeppelin is finally giving the fans what they really want: The band is getting back together. That's right, folks, you heard it here first: Jimmy Page, Robert Plant and John Paul Jones have stated in a press conference that they're officially reuniting for a summer tour of the United States this year. As for who will be playing drums, the band has agreed to allow a fan in each city who bid the highest on eBay to be that evening's drummer."

The announcement by Gary Moore of 95.5 KLOS was a flash in the pan: It lasted less than a minute and was immediately followed by the words, "Check the calendar: April Fools!" There was no truth to anything he'd said. It was just a joke designed to take place on the first day of April, which in some countries is traditionally a day full of practical jokes.

But the reaction by some fans indicated that they didn't get the joke. Moore told Lemon Squeezings a few days later:

"Clearly, as evidenced by the half-dozen calls and emails I received, people either tuned out after I said the word 'reuniting' or just didn't get it. But the phones didn't light up per se. The whole bit lasted maybe 40 seconds and, again, I thought I'd defused it by saying, 'April Fools!'"

And how did I hear about this L.A. DJ's announcement all the way on the other side of the country? From people wanting to ask Steve "The Lemon" Sauer whether it was true, of course. If you wrote me this time last year to ask whether what you heard was true, then your secret's safe with me. Got that, Sasha? Got that, Temax? ;-)

Buddy Guy on Led Zeppelin: 'They're great, aren't they?'

These comments originally appeared at the end of an edition of the newsletter "On This Day In Led Zeppelin History" that mentioned Buddy Guy, who was a featured performer alongside Led Zeppelin on a film called "Supershow."

I got to watch Buddy Guy perform earlier this year at his Chicago blues club, Legends. It was the last of his January shows there. Onstage and even venturing forth amid the ravenous fans, his guitar and voice captivated the crowd with every note, despite his own displeasure with the set.

Even though he and his backing band played for hours, they really didn't play very many songs through to the end. After each piece had exceeded 10 minutes, Buddy would make the band stop, even mid-verse at times. He kept wanting to try different songs he thought the audience would enjoy better.

As a tribute to some of the legends represented on the walls, Buddy even attempted some versions of "Voodoo Chile" and some Texas-style blues guitar, referencing Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughan. To my surprise, he even gave us a rendition of Cream's "Strange Brew."

Throughout the set, Buddy kept complaining that his voice was giving out, but I don't think many people could tell. He sounded great to us! Buddy was playing Carnegie Hall next, so he had to save some for New York.

Inspired by his performance, I decided that I'd sign up to play keyboards two nights later during open mic night. Just about an hour before the evening's jam session began, I spotted Buddy Guy next to a phone booth in the back of the place, where he was discreetly sipping some booze.

Most club patrons were unaware of the man's presence. After one of his performances, you would have had to wait in a 30-minute line just to say hi. But on his off nights, one person can divert Buddy's attention for minutes.

So, I decided to approach him. I figured that since I seemed to be the only 23-year-old white guy in the place aside from a bouncer, I was sort of an anomaly to him, so I introduced myself and explained that I was a huge fan of the blues, having grown up on the Blues Brothers, whose music turned me onto the blues originators.

Then I told Buddy that I run a Led Zeppelin newsletter, and I reminded him that in 2000 he'd shared a stage with Robert Plant at a blues festival in 2000. I asked Buddy what he thought of the guys from Led Zeppelin. I think Buddy was hardly paying any attention to me because his response was, "Yeah, Led Zeppelin, they're great, aren't they?" Perhaps it was too open-ended of a question.

Nevertheless, he was happy to autograph two copies of his latest album, Sweet Tea, which was the recipient of W.C. Handy's Best Album of the Year award in 2002. And he wished me good luck with the jam session that night. Beginning about an hour later, I proceeded to play keyboard for just about every group up there all night long until closing time. (It's nice being a keyboard player; for some reason, there are fewer of us than guitarists, so there's not as much competition.)