This memoir was originally written in 1998...
There is no way I could forget my first time. I was fourteen. The world was new and awaiting my exploration...
I was walking at the local county fair, the grunge of the ride mechanics on my left, the cajoling and barking of the game carneys on my right. It was a typically cool fall night, midweek, and the fair-going crowd was slim. And then, it happened. The most incredible sound, unlike anything my teeny-bopper ears had ever encountered.
A wail, a moan, that stirred a sexualness that I had yet to realize even exisited within me. The music echoing through the air certainly wasn't anything like the candy coated pop of David Cassidy and Bobby Sherman that I had been used to hearing. Even my musical icon at the time, Rod Stewart, failed to arouse this sort of feeling.
Dragging along behind my parents, as teens being cool tend to do, I stopped dead in my tracks. "Mom, listen!" I exclaimed. She turned to see me immobile, entranced by the sounds coming from behind one of the rides. "What IS that music?" I asked.
Luckily, she respected my interest in music even if she didn't appreciate my choices. Go ask him was her response.
Yeah, right. Flashing colored lights in the background lent a psychedelic glow to the ride gears, half shadowing a grungy, greasy, long haired guy, his head moving in rhythm to the hypnotic sounds coming from a giant tape player at his side. I stood, debating my choices, the music drawing me in. I tried to stand tall (at four feet something) and look cool as I nervously approached him. He didn't so much as acknowledge my approach. But all cool escaped me as I nervously blurted out my question, "What is the music you are listening to?"
He turned his head to look at me in total disbelief - like I MUST be from another planet. In a tone equal to the look he was giving me he replied, "Led Zeppelin". I had never heard of them, but I wanted to know more. I felt a flush of excitement, as if for some reason I suddenly knew something that made me more mature.
The next day, I excitedly recounted my experience to the kids at middle school. No one shared my enthusiasm. No one knew who they were, the general response being, "Who?". Peer pressure is a sad thing.
The small town dimestore where I bought my 45's didn't carry such "heavy metal" rock, nor had they heard of Zeppelin. I never caught their tunes across the airwaves. Protective parents nixed attempts to attend any "wild rock band" concerts. So I laid Led Zeppelin aside. But I didn't forget.
High school brought mingling with a different group. The coolest guys were getting into groups like Cream and Black Sabbath and the Rolling Stones and...Led Zeppelin. I would sit close to them in class (one of them being, the now well known in his own right, Jim Lauderdale) and listen to them discuss the new albums of the particular favorite artist that week.
I sometimes butted in with questions about Zeppelin. Jim and his friends would look at each other and grin, then ask me what was Sonny and Cher's latest hit. I guess I just didn't "look the type."
It would be years later before I took the time to delve into the pleasures of Robert Plant and the rest of the amazing talent that comprised Led Zeppelin . I learned that Black Dog was my initiation tune and discovered the movie The Song Remains The Same, thanks to MTV and VCR technology. Every album became my possession, every song my passion.
In my thirties, a fringe boomer, I continued to crave daily doses of Zep. My then husband told me I was living in a rock and roll fantasy world. (That's okay. He's history and Page and Plant are still going strong and, oh yeah - still feeding my fantasies!)
I enjoyed each artist's solo efforts, Plant the most, as he fed my hungry soul with his passionate endeavors and soulful crooning. They were both wonderful in their own right. It was, and is, difficult to deny the magic of Page and Plant's entwined spirituality. I dreamed of having the opportunity to witness their incredible musical energy in person. After the sad loss of Bonham, I figured that opportunity would never arise. But the rock and roll gods were listening...
In 1995 came a new album, a tour to go with it - and you can guess who had tickets! I sat mesmerized, high on the legend, soaking up every note; all those years of hearing them through speakers now culminated into the ultimate listening experience. It was so long-awaited, it was hard to take it all in. I left the concert in a bigger fantasy world than the one I had arrived in. Page and Plant confirmed what I knew all along - they were unforgettable, etching their music into the walls of your soul.
1998. I'm the big FOUR-O. And still mesmerized. No music makes me feel more happy, high, sensual, restless - all at the same time. Mark McCuen recently interviewed the two fantasy makers. He asked his listening audience, "Do you remember the first time you heard Led Zeppelin?" Oh, yes, Mark. Most die-hard Zeppelin fans can relate that experience in great detail.
My children would always ask me what would I do if given the opportunity to talk with them. If my mouth would function, that is. Well, let's see. Questions about their homeland, their childhoods. Zen. Where does Plant get those fabulous bracelets he always wears. Can I have one? Who's your heart's inspiration? What keeps your spirits young and passionate? Oh, never mind. I know the answer to that one. Rock and Roll. Thanks, guys...
Many things have since changed in the lives of the people I wrote about. Including me! I knew one day, I would find a venue for this memory. And that one day, somehow, I would meet Robert Plant. Watch for my next post to see validation of the theory of 'six degrees of separation'!
