LED ZEPPELIN DANCES ON AIR

"The thing about sharks is that the best shark bit never got out," Zeppelin manager Peter Grant said, "There must have been about 28 or 30 odd sharks that were caught by the band once, and they stacked them up in the wardrobe closet. So -when the maids came in, as they obviously did to check the rooms after we left, they opened the door and an avalanche of sharks came tumbling out . . ."

"At the end of the last tour, I didn't know where I was at all," Jimmy told me over breakfast at Chicago's Ambassador East Hotel. "The only thing I could relate to was getting onstage and playing, I didn't know where I was in the daytime. We had been away for such a long time - I'll probably get like that at the end of this tour too. Then you go home and you walk right into all the mundane things like bills and your head is still swimming. You walk into your house with a suitcase and start undoing it, and it's almost like being in another hotel room. I'd really like to get a lot of Afghani hangings and transform all my hotel rooms to look like mosques. It's easily done ... just get big wall hangings and lots of carpets and pile them on top of each other, and have everything candlelit. Then you're walking into something that looks inviting, as opposed to something which is so obviously temporary. My home is like that, and since I can't bring my home with me on the road, I have to do this."

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Peter Grant sits on a brocaded couch in his ornate suite. "It's the only suite that Zsa Zsa Gabor will stay in when she comes to Chicago," he laughs. (Robert Plant dished the actress further when he revealed that the maids told him her dog used to shit on the carpet, they'd have to clean it up and then wouldn't receive a tip.) Blue and white fake period furniture, satin drapes, antique stove, and a framed Swan Song logo in needlepoint on the wall. Courtesy-ofAtlantic-Records flowers on the table, oases of Heinekens ... normal big business rockstar decor. Peter reminisces about the last tour: "You know we were in the Midwest, and I said something to the hotel clerk about the fact that it must be rough to have all the rock groups in there throwing furniture and TVs out the windows into the sea, and he said that they had something worse once -and that was the Young Methodist's Convention. Apparently they threw the carpets and everything out, and this clerk went into a whole rap about," Well, it's all right for you guys to take out all your things on stuff like that, but how do you think I feel, never being able to do the same thing?' So I jeered him on a bit and said, 'You'd really like that, would you?' And he said, 'Oh yeah, I'd love to do it.' So I said 'Well, have one on us, I'll treat you, do whatever you want to do.' And he went in and he fucking threw all the stuff around and threw the stuff out the windows and I went down to the desk and paid his bill . . . $490.00 . . ." • • •

Led Zeppelin were back. Same group, same sold out concerts across the States, but there were some added dimensions this time, some differences. For a start, there was no cash around on this tour, the group having been the victims of an astounding hotel robbery in New York during the last go-round. They resided in only two hotels for the first half of the tour, taking the Starship in and out of cities where they performed almost nightly for a month. There was new music from the yet-to-be-released Physical Graffiti lp, most notably the L.A. groupie song, "Sick Again," the incredible rocker "Trampled Underfoot" and the stunning "Kashmir." They returned to the States as successful record company executives, Swan Song having had overwhelming success with their very first release - Bad Company - the Pretty Things, Maggie Bell and Mirabai signed for the future. Once again, no wives were along for the ride. "With the sort of organization we have and the number of people that it requires to keep this thing on the move now, it would be too painful, you know?" Robert said at the start of the tour in Chicago. "There really is only room for the musicians and the crew. Of course there often is the warcry from the ladies who are akin to rock and rollers: 'Oh, but so-and-so goes and I don't' . . . you know."

The Stones take their families, I venture. "Yes, but they don't work like we do. It's really highpowered work that we do and we work like slaves when we're onstage and that's the only way at the end of a night that we've climaxed. After that you either go out and get drunk or you sit down and read a book ... but whatever you do, you do it yourself." Read a book? "Did you hear that, darling?" he chuckles. "I brought a lot of

books with me, although I haven't looked at them yet. . . Herman Hesse . .

"I'd like to have it publicized that I came in after Karen Carpenter in the Playboy drummer poll," roars Bonzo as I entered the dressing room at the Chicago Stadium. "She couldn't last ten minutes with a Zeppelin number," he sneers. When they're together, there's a familial, brotherly spirit surrounding Zeppelin - despite the occasional bitching and-or pettiness about who got more press, who kept who up all night, who wants the heat turned higher in the limousine. The music always matters as the major thing, and I've never seen them so obviously Upset as the day after their first Chicago show which was, quite frankly, nowhere up to par. Jimmy's broken finger (he caught it in a train door right before the start of the tour) and Robert's touch of the flu didn't help.

, I'm only playing with three fingers," Jimmy told me, "I think I'm beginning to be a master of that technique. Maybe I'll just go back home and work out a three, and then a two finger technique so that the next time I have an accident, which I'm bound to - at the start of an important tour, I'll be ready."

He had been joking about thinking of tossing himself out the window: "Well, not joking really, because I was getting very despondent about the fact that

whatever I was doing was going wrong. The thing is, never before have two people in the group been down at the same time. I was thinking about it the other night when I was getting very depressed about all these little accidents . . and I thought well,. I'm reaping my karma now, heavily. But you know, no matter what happens with this group -we always do our best. No matter what the disabilities are, we've never gone out onstage and just messed about."

ffyou already have a wife, perhaps you need a husband.

And so, concerts two and three in Chicago turned out just fine. After the third show, we all assemble in the hotel's Buttery Disco for an evening out. Tour manager Richard Cole comes to the bar and joins Bad Company's tour manager Clive Coulson. "Anything rude going on?" he asks wickedly, "Anything naughty?" We're going to what they all refer to as "some poov place," but to me it's just like being home at Le Jardin. Chicago's "Bistro" is all strobe lights, B.T. Express, Labelle and "one monkey don't stop no show" piped in over the sound system. Robert is dancing. Jimmy, who seems to have some charcoal eyemakeup around his eyes, is sitting in a booth with Peter Grant, Richard Cole, Clive Coulson. There's lots of Dom Perignon, and a girl attempts to show Clive how to do the Bump. "Don't I take you to the best places?" laughs Cole.

John Bonham is sitting far too quietly in a booth, alone. He's not been feeling well, his stomach has been giving him persistent trouble, and he's in a mellow mood. Talking to me about his wife, and how they're expecting another

child, he remembers that I once wrote he was a gentleman. "You know," he says, "I really am quite softhearted." This from the Gemini drummer who has been known to go a bit over the top after a gig, especially when there's a full moon; yet I believe him. "How do you think I feel," he mumbles plaintively, "not being taken seriously... coming in after Karen Carpenter in the Playboy poll. Karen Carpenter, what a load of shit."

Robert was surveying the local talent at the Bistro without much enthusiasm. Of course Robert is pretty much a ladies' man. A surprisingly straight looking man in his perhaps early forties approaches. "You look very queeny," he says to Robert, who is wearing a floral print bathrobe over an open-shirted blouse, tight jeans and lots of Indian jewelry. "Ah," sighed Robert, "I've arrived." "Where are the groupies?" the man asks. "Are you one?" This to me. "Naw," sez Plant, putting a protective arm around me, "she's me wife." "Oh well then - if you already have a wife, perhaps you need a husband," the man says, not blinking an eyelash. "Well, I don't think so," Robert replies, "although if I did need one, it would probably be that man over there with the charcoal around his eyes."

• • •

The Starship is the same as the last tour. It makes it easier but for those of us afraid of flying, it's still not fun. Drinks, sandwiches, hot food is served, people settle down into their own little patterns. Jimmy and Peter tend to stay back in

the "den," Robert moves around, chatting to reporters, Bonzo stays up front trying to get some rest, and John Paul Jones takes on all comers at chess and backgammon. People watdh videotapes of Flash Gordon and Don't Knock the Rock; Jonesy dragged Jimmy up front to watch Little Richard do "Long Tall Sally" and they all screamed with pleasure. During Flash Gordon Jimmy said to me, "You know it's incredible the vision of the future that people had back then. They really thought it would be all silvery spaceships . . . because they still had craftsmen then. But I'm a great believer that the craftsmen will return."

Photos by Neal Preston

• • •

On our way to Detroit, my ears are enticed by the conversation Jimmy is having with a reporter from the London Daily Express. "You don't want to know about my music, my composing," Jimmy asserts, "you'll go and write how much we gross nightly, I know it. You know, I don't just jump up and down onstage ... I did a lot of session work, I compose music . . ."

"You're not supposed to make intelligent remarks," smirks the man from the Daily Express. Uh-oh. The antagonism has been established, to be continued.

What seems like thousands of kids are lined up outside the stagedoor of the Detroit Olympia as the police-escorted limos pull in. "Do the quaalude stagger," hums John Paul. Jimmy is fuming in the dressing room. "Can you imagine the nerve of that man referring to my guitar playing as a trade??," he asks incredulously. "I didn't go to vocational school." It gets worse. During

"Moby Dick," when Page, Plant and Jones go into the dressng room to have a rest, the reporter tries to follow. "I'm sorry, you can't go in," says Richard Cole, "the band is having a meeting." "Who are you??," demands the reporter. "I'm the tour manager," answers Richard coldly, with a look that if-youknew - Richard - like -1 - know - Richard, you'd know to move out of the way. Fast. "I write for ten million people and I won't have you belittle me in front of a member of my staff!!!!" shrieked the reporter, "I'LL RUIN YOU!! . . . You'll never work again!" I can't remember who said "you'll never walk again," but the situation was mighty grim.

(4 If all that snow were cocaine, Jethro Tull could do a winter season here. ‡‡

After the concert the man from the Daily Express allegedly told those riding in his limousine to turn off the radio: "After two and a half hours of that Led Zeppelin racket, I can't stand anymore!" Back on board the plane people whispered in groups of twos and threes. Somewhere in between terror and anticipation I watched Jimmy. Was I about to witness the legendary Led Zeppelin wrath? They have been know to get... funny with people who act like assholes. Would Airport be re-enacted? Someone throw something out of the window and we'd all be sucked out? Man from Daily Express is arrogant, his femme companion appears nervous. All of a sudden Jimmy, who's been resting under a red blanket, comes to life and continues the heated discussion. It becomes apparent that the topic now is ... oh dear, politics. "He's a communist," Jimmy turns and says, perplexed. What? "/ don't think he's such a bad bloke," mumbles Robert. "Ten million people read the paper ... me mum and dad read the paper... the singer was good . . ." Plant turns to me and adds, "Why don't you just say that Jimmy Page wrestled with a cub (make sure you say cub) reporter from the Daily Express - who had a few beers too many -on the subject of British imperialism in IndiaJn the 20th Century." The rest was confusing. Somehow a drink got spilled in the reporter's lap, Bonzo yelled, "Will you all please shut up, I'm trying to get some rest!," and Jimmy was discussing the way he voted in the last election. It went on like fhat all the way back to the Plaza Hotel where the man from the Daily Express and James Patrick Page solemnly shook hands and assured each other that there were no hard feelings. Drat -1 have yet to see this band really act like ruffians ...

• • •

"I've developed a lot of fears which I never had before," Jimmy confessed. "I still am terrified of flying, but things like fear of heights and claustrophobia, fear of heights is the worst one and I never was afraid of heights before. I remember when I was young I used to run along railway bridges with 250 foot drops . . . just dancing . . ."

"I get nervous if I have to hang around before a concert in the dressing room. I like to get in and get straight on, so that it doesn't actually hit me that I'm on the stage until I'm standing there. As soon as the music starts I'm fine, but I hate all that hanging around backstage, contemplating things. I don't think the others get as nervous as all that, though."

• • •

The limousines are lined up outside the Plaza Hotel and so are the teenaged girls who clutch spiral notebooks and felt tipped pens in their hands. Plant, Page, Bonham and Jones leap into the limos, squeals and giggles fill the air as the girls race after to get autographs. Zepmania at the Plaza, I love it. Even an odd policeman or construction worker who sticks a grubby piece of paper through the half opened window: "For my daughter ... she'd kill me if I didn't get this."

Bonzo is freeezing in the limousine, "And I'm wearing a coat made for the Antarctic," he says "Turn the heat up," he commands, and Robert complies. The car quickly becomes a sauna, but Bonzo is still freezing. Robert falls asleep, wakes up and tries to sneak the heat off. "Turn the fucking heat on," shouts Bonzo. "Goddammit, I want the heat on, the radio on . . ."

As the Starship landed in a snow covered Canada, Robert quipped, "Now if all that were cocaine... well, Jethro Tull could do a winter season here." (Reports have gotten back to the band that Tull's people have spread the word he's done better business than Zep did in L.A. "That's ridiculous," snorted Peter Grant, "We have more people in our entourage than they've got at the box office." "The unwanted entourage," added Robert.) As we wait for the customs man to board the plane in Montreal, Robert curls up on the rack above the seats. "What do you think this is?," demanded Cole, "The fucking 7:35 to Birmingham??" Someone yells "HOW'S YOUR ARRAYS???" as the customs official gets on.

"If you see a very tall, elegant woman with a blonde chignon in Montreal who knows quite a lot about Cocteau, that's Mary," said my friend Fran, "and tell her I said hello ..." I didn't, but I did see a lot of French Canadian kids. They look the same as kids at the Academy of Music, but Robert goes a bit out of his way to charm them. When he sings "Do you know my name," during "Sick Again," he counters with "Je m'appelle Robert." As we got back on the plane he said, "II fait froid . . ." and then, "I'll bet I'm the only bi-lingual rockstar you know," he coughs, "at least the only bilingual rockstar with TB."

• • •

New York. Not too much happened at the Plaza. Jimmy watched a personal print of Lucifer Rising (for which he did the soundtrack) in his suite at an obscenely loud volume; "Something's wrong with the projector," he said, "and it buzzes unless I blast it. I'm sure they're going to throw me out of the hotel.. ." His TV set didn't work because candlewax dripped down into it, and he didn't much care for his suite. "It looks like the fucking Versailles Palace," he complained. No doubt, Bonzo had the best suite, complete with the pool table that he insisted be installed. "You kept me awake all night long playing those damn billiards," Robert accused him. "If you do that again I'll have to blast Moby Grape records all night to bother you." "Moby Grape couldn't keep me awake," Bonzo retorted. Jones would mumble about looking for trouble; "There's not enough of it in my life." I point out one girl who was hanging around the hotel lobby with a suitcase. "That's too much trouble," he mutters, "a suitcase." Then he asks people to remind him to send his wife flowers on her birthday. A girlfriend of a semi-well known rockstar atterqpts to get into Jimmy's room several times with no success. Richard Cole didn't go to the Oyster Bar ("They call me 'old golden pen' down there," he laughed) as much as he did during the Eric Clapton tour, and everyone watched films like Alvin Purple and Confessions of a Window Cleaner - the highlights of the week's TV viewing.

Ww Robert parodies himself better than anyone: fondling his crotch, tossing his hair...

Although most of the entourage leaves their phones off the hook, there is no rest for Swan Song Vice President Danny Goldberg. Goldberg, who meditates daily even while on the road in shrine-like hotel rooms (covered with photos of Sai Baba, Krishna dolls, etc.) would be beseiged by phone calls like "Uh . . . you don't know me, Richard Cole said I should call you... but I'm into photography . . ."

Suite 301: Robert, always aware of The Public Image, is ever willing to pose for, and look through, photos of himself. He parodies himself better than anyone . . . fondling his crotch, tossing his hair, and now there's a new habit: sort of blinking and twinkling his eyes and grinning . . . cute. But John Paul Jones says that his kids do better Robert imitations. Plant is a vision now in rolled up blue jeans, white ankle socks, no shirt (of course) and a room service napkin shaped like a diaper on top of his head. "Hmm, dressing to the right, I see," says Jimmy, and the two playfully toss each other about on the floor for a minute. Watching is Magnet, Robert's childhood friend who works for Deep Purple but who's grown very attached to Zeppelin this tour and vice versa. "Have you met Magnet?" Robert asks. "He's BAHEEMOTH, the sea monster. It can't be spelled."

We leave the Plaza to have dinner down the block at the "Nirvana" Indian restaurant, and Plant waves to the taxi drivers as he promenades (there is no other word for it) down the street. The owners and waiters at Nirvana make a big fuss over Mr. Personality, much affection all around, and soon the table is laden With Indian delicacies. "Have you got any fresh dania?" asks Robert, showing off to the Indian waiters. Then he turns and says, "I should know about this food, I married an Indian .. ." "So you tell them every time you come in here," laughs Jimmy. Robert fondles Jimmy's knee under the table. "You used to do it over the table," camps Page. "You know, they always call me a screaming banshee in reviews," Robert says, "what does that mean in Indian?" "A small toad," says Danny Goldberg, straight faced. "WHAT???"

"I'm keeping a dream diary," Jimmy told me. Would you ever put it out? "What? A dream diary? Well god, somebody would know you inside out if they read that. I'm not that open or loose."

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 39

"John Paul Jones? The most boring man in show business," Robert jokes affectionately, "the man with the BBC vqice .. ." One night as we leave Robert's suite to go uptown to J.P.'s, Jones, the English sessionman from way back chats a bit with Bowie, who's visiting along with Ava Cherry. "I've known him for so long," laughs John Paul, almost as if he couldn't believe David's sudden stardom. I ask the lads if they want to go to the Leonard Cohen party to be held in the Plaza that week. "Well, I suppose we could rush about tossing quaaludes around to lift everybody's spirits, couldn't we?" Robert asked. At J.P.'s a Sam the Sham record comes on. "That Tom Scott gets in everywhere," John Paul mutters . . . I'll see you tomorrow night, I say in parting. "Where?"'At the Garden. "Oh no," Jones says, "I'm going to telex the concert in. Really tdo you know that the other night I shot craps during the second encore and nobody even noticed? This is my point . . ."

• • •

The Rainbow, L.A. Robert had the flu and St. Louis was cancelled, the rest of the band took off to the West for a day's . . . vacation. A stoned anonymous insulter was yelling at Page, "YOU CAN'T FUCKING PLAY GUITAR!! FUCK YOU!!" and Jimmy was about to hit him when Peter shouted, "Don't hit him Jimmy, the hands! The hands!" So Grant took the offender outside to advise him to cool it. The kid didn't stop. Peter kicked him, grabbed him by the shirt and was just about to hit him when a nubile local approached and said, right in the midst of the melee, "Mr. Grant, can I please have your autograph?" ,

• • •'

Greensboro, North Carolina: 800 fans were storming the backstage area after the concert (one limo window was shattered, another's roof dented) and the limousine drivers, who had apparently never witnessed this before, were terrified. "Get out of the car," Peter commanded, I'll drive." The police escort nervously asked Grant not to bump the back of his car, and Peter replied, "If you don't go f^st enough I'll fucking jump over you!" With Peter behind the wheel of one car, and Magnet the other, they drove so fast that even maniac driver Richard Cole was panicked. Peter Gee confessed later that he too, had been scared, but he was joking all the way in order to keep everybody "moodied up." As they arrived at the airport, 8 people in each car and safe, Grant did one "lap of honor" around the Starship.

• • •

Talking about some of the older cuts included on the new Zeppelin LP, Robert said, " 'Down by the Seaside' " is an old one, we did that at Bron-Yr-Aur. Clive - who's now with Bad Company - was making the fire one morning, chopping the wood outside on the mountain, and I actually played guitar on it." Really? And it's on the album? "Yeah . . ." Are you credited with it? "Nooo .. ." Why? "Cos it's bad. Really sort of wanky rhythm guitar in the background, but it made my day. You know every vocalist is a frustrated guitarist. The best guitar I ever played, I played with Paul Rodgers. He's another frustrated guitarist." He plays guitar onstage. "Well, I know ... but I mean, you know ... you know? As much as I love the mike and my freedom of movement, which makes me a little more articulate perhaps, I really like to play instruments. Everytime I'm allowed to get on the drums, on Bonzo's drums without him looking down his nose at me, when they're doing a sound check on the P.A. or something, it's 'C'mon Robert, get in there, play the drums and let's see what it sounds like.' I suppose I could do a solo album, but my god, or rather, my lack of god, it would be terrible," he cracks up. "I think for right now I'll just stick to the groinal."

• • •

Onstage in Chicago Peter laughs. "Last night during 'No Quarter' not enough dry ice . . . tonight too much. Jimmy can't find the wah-wah pedal. Bet he'd find it if it were a bit o' crumpet." I see a guard cough hysterically in front of the barricade as the dry ice floats over the stage. He's coughing so hard, in fact, that the cotton comes out of his ears.

• • •

At the Garden in New York I tell Jimmy that the lights surrounding him during "Dazed and Confused" looked ominous. "That's it," he smiles, pleased. Your voice sounded terrific, I venture to Robert. "This is the truth," he says, typically.

• • •

Dear Mr.. Plant (goes the letter on the dressing room table, sitting somewhere between the roast beef and the Blue Nun): It is a little hard to begin, sort of a bizarre country stage fright. My girlfriend and I and our party are in the audience tonight, (2nd Promenade, Tower C). I will be doing some available light telephoto-photography and depending on my success I would like to submit my photos for your consideration. WNEW and Allison Steele say there are open windows on your new album coyer. Does opportunity only knock on doors? Are you barraged by dogs on your tours? We two are spending the night at the Hilton, 53rd Street and Avenue of the Americas, Room 3456, and would like very much to meet you for a drink, a chat, a whatever for that matter. Obviously I am looking at the stars, all puns intended, but for what it is worth, nothing ventured, no-t thing gained. If you say yes, the only need then is how am I to contact you. We could be drooling at stagefront after the concert or receive call at our hotel room after the concert. The needs of the belly may likely call heavily on us, I find that after one of your concerts I need time to find the ground again. Yours in Love, respect, and with or without the confines of the genre . . . Fantastic . . . (Name withheld here.)

• • •

No Zeppelin show would be complete without that old Cole speedy getaway. Richard's got them all lined up by the backstage ramp, ready to race back to the hotel for a bit of the old "tarting up" before going out. I'm apprehensive about the police on horses in the streets. "So cover the ballet," mumbles lawyer Steve Weiss. Soon it's on to the Penn Plaza Club where Atlantic Records' Ahmet Ertegun is giving the boys a party. Andy Warhol sits in a corner with his entourage, Steve Paul is there with his. Ahmet comes over to trade insults with Richard Cole and then leaves, saying "I'm going to go. over and talk to Peter Grant, he's more important." Ahmet kissed Robert, then Peter and Robert. Much of the ensuing conversation was incoherent and-or unprintable, even in a non-family publication such as this one. An enthusiastic Amanda Lear quickly joined Jimmy Page. ("I'm in love," she cooed over the telephone to me the very next day.) Lots of champagne, cat pack kisses, and more barbed insults followed. Danny Goldberg left early, Cameron Crowe posed for photos with Lance Loud. Keith Moon, Joe Walsh and all the Zeps stayed to the end. "Did I have a good time last night?" Richard Cole asked Earl McGrath on the phone the next day. It was that kind of party.

• • •

New York: The final Madison Square Garden concert found Mick Jagger and David Bowie in attendance. At Nassau Coliseum the following night, Ron Wood and Rod Stewart showed up. Jagger, Woody and Stewart all went to a private party held on the weekend in upstate New York for the band, and they all hung out with each other in varying combinations all night long during the week. Who says it's lonely at the top??

• •

Zeppelin is, above all, a group. But there's no doubt that much of the attention - internally, externally - is focused on Jimmy Page. People always seem to check things out with Jimmy before making any final decisions. "You know I've been playing guitar now for ten years," Jimmy said to me in one of our discussions," and yet sometimes I seem to get the feeling that people think I'm just starting. I'd like to think that I'll still be playing in ten, twenty years time but I just don't see it happening. I can't put it into words, it's just this funny . . . sort of, foreboding feeling that I have.

"I always think that I've not long to go anyway," he said, "I never thought I'd pass 30. And I don't feel it, I don't feel 31. Sometimes I feel 1000 years old, but othertimes I still feel 17 or 18, totally naive about lots of things that are going on. I think that last time we spoke I mentioned that it was a race against time, well, I still feel that way. There is so much to do in such a short time ... I've had that feeling closing in on me for maybe the last few years."

• • •

"Maybe one day I'll be able to have enough time to live in Kashmir without suddenly feeling the urge to grind a little bit. But I doubt it," Robert said, thoughtfully. "Every now and then I just have to go out and do this extraordinary thing

.. In fact, I've got a permanent grin on my face mostly all the time when we're touring. I'll tell you, at the Chislehurst Caves function we had around Halloween, I realized that above everything else, above record companies, above films, we were Led Zeppelin - above everything."

"It's not just that we think we're the best group in the world," Robert continued, "it's just that we think we're so much better than whoever is Number Two."