Erik Davis

This one's a wild ride.

Davis has likely forgotten more fact about Led Zep than the rest of us will ever know. The staggering level of research, of delving into the magic and symbolism and hidden meanings of the songs not only on this album, but a smattering of others that came before or go after, is almost overwhelming.

The last book I read in this series, on Steely Dan's Aja, I slagged because the author dipped so far into music theory that he lost me. Davis swings so far the other way, only rarely talking about the specific music, that he threatens to lose me just on the sheer number of side trips into arcane trivia.

But somehow, he doesn't.

I'm not a history buff, and I've always dreaded walking around historical sites, places like houses, forts, etc. And yet, once, I went with a friend of mine, agreeing only because he was such a history buff, and we happened to be in the neighbourhood. So, we spent several hours tromping around the site, and I found myself enjoying the hell out of it, simply due to the unbelievable knowledge, as well as the numerous entertaining anecdotes my buddy provided in a non-stop running commentary.

It's exactly the same thing with this book. Normally, the level of detail would drive me bonkers, but Davis comes at it with such glee, with such adolescent fervor, that I couldn't help get caught up in the narrative and give myself over to the fascinating world of Led Zeppelin, circa 1971.

A fun book.… (meer)

I would have appreciated a more in-depth look at the album in its entirety as well as the individual tracks that make up the whole. A whole lot less satanic panic bullshit and information about Jimmy's fascination with the occult would have been nice. I suspect that it was a fleeting interest for him, like it was for so many others. He's obviously moved on, since he sold Boleskin house many years ago. I think he moved on to his Pre-Raphaelite phase when he bought Tower House. Judging by his girlfriend's appearance, he's still in that frame of mind.

I only read this book for that sense of nostalgia, the times when manly, hi-test men were still around. Back in the days before sensitive pony-tail soy boys brought their chronically limp dicks onto the scene and caused mass celibacy in woman-kind.

All of us hardcore rock bitches can only hope for society to improve and usher in a return of real men swinging their dicks and their Stratocasters for our entertainment.



… (meer)