Of all the old superfart bands it is certainly Led Zeppelin who have been and still are the most reviled by the New Wave.

Whatever jerk-off socialite absurdities Jagger may have got himself into, The Rolling Stones have at least always had one of the prime punk arc hetypes in Keith Richards. The Who, meanwhile, have the ever-perceptive Townshend, a man who appears to have gone through something of a personal rejuvenation that see ms to be a direct result of his encounters with Punk.

■ Foi w lalever reasons though, the mann • n which Led ] 'feppelin have consi en ly presented tl emselves '.has made the band's name synonymous with gratuitous excess. Even the almost equally quilty Pink Floyd have at least had the 'decency and sensitivrtyMhot' to quit these ' shores just forth^ sake of saving money,

ft Don't-sell your sbul for silver and gold,, as Lee Perry once .said. 4 f rock 'n' roll is essentially an all-encompassing.roots cuk ture; then olvibusfe/ any musffeian who isolates himself away .in some,anal retentive tax exile life 'Style is neither responding to his obligations nor in harmony with those roots. Also, his initial purpose and motivation must be doubted.

. The Clash's P^ul Simenon summed up -pretty well the tofal lack of respect that the . new bands feel .towards Zeppelin: "Led Zejyfielin??? P don't need to hear the m tsic-— II l have 4o do is look at one of th air alb m covers and I feel like throwing up!" , '' || ■ | 1 ;, gf 1 |JJ1

Irj so e ways part of the .reason for, th £ ven mous. loathing directed■ at' the b; nd us .not oust BecaCise they Vedet th srrfsel is down,'Bufalso -BfeCause you ki IOW c mn well t,hatJimmy Page at Mfe tet— li ? many oFithemew Punk icons a fo :mer art studenf-certainly knows hi tier. , f „ > */ '■■ .

"I've. ;ad;about many hecords which^ ai 2 supf >sed to.have turned me on to play ' reck 'n' roll," the guitarist told Trouser Pi ess ir September,, 1977, "but it was 'Eaby, I ?t's Play House' by Presley..,! heard that record and I wanted to be part of it; I knew something was going on. I heard the acoustic guitar, slap bass and electric guitar—three instruments and a voice—and they generated so much energy I had to be part of it. That's when 1 started."

...And the bux remain the same.

...The actual Identity of the band is still there.

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We're not sounding complacent, I hope.

Yet, in the same way that the death of the original, classic rock 'n' roll punk the previous month to the publication of that article could have been seen as a serious warning of the false paths and box canyons into which Babylon could misroute rock 'n' rollers, it also appeared at the time that perhaps the whole mighty edifice which Led Zeppelin had created itself to be was starting to crumble away as inevitably as the Malibu Beach Colony will one day slide into the Pacific Ocean.

By the middle of the year when the two sevens clashed, the belief that the whole Led Zeppelin operation had got it all more than a little bit wrong appeared to be being backed up by concrete facts. The band appeared to be in a state of crisis. In artistic terms they seemed to have reached an absolute nadir. Following the turgid Presence.LP released in the Spring of the previous year there'd then been, six months later, the critically lambasted The Song Remains The Same film and double soundtrack album. Even this emphasis on double records—two out of the three LPs the band had put out since they'd formed their own Swan Song label had been tworecord sets when none had been released before—suggested attempts to milk their market for all it was worth while fighting a rearguard action to forestall an inevitable end.

Perhaps more to the point, though, a general atmosphere of personal doom and gloom appeared to surround the once invincible Zeppelin. The lengthy U.S. tour undertaken by the outfit in the Spring of 77 seemed ill-fated from the outset. It was to have been the band's first live work since 1975 when vocalist Robert Plant had been severely injured in a car smash on the Greek island of Rhodes during a year of British tax exile. It was ominous then that the first dates were cancelled when Plant developed a throat infection.

Jimmy Page himself was also believed not to be in a good state, an assumption fuelled by the news that the full time services of a doctor were being employed to care for the suitar hero. Now Page denies that the medic was there to look after him alone—"We had a doctor to look after all of us, period. It wa§ a bloody long tour"—with the same ease that he dismisses reports of his having been wheeled around between gigs in a wheel chair—"I may have done that for a laugh—not seriously. No, no. That wasn't happening at all."

In addition, manager Peter Grant was said to be severely depressed following a divorce. Matters appeared to reach what seemed to be an inevitably unpleasant culmination when, following a Bill Grahampromoted San Francisco gig, one of the promoter's security men was badly beaten up by Grant, drummer John Bonham and one John Bindon, a Zeppelin employee.

If some form of near-tragedy during the tout had seemed unavoidable, however, it was yet to wreak its worst toll. This happened some two weeks later when Robert Plant's five-year-old son died of a sudden mystery virus infection and the tour was abandoned while the griefstricken singer flew Tiome.

Now, of course, all these incidents may be seen as random happenings, as the chance intervention of fate. However, if you believe that you create your own fate and that human beings do not exist in isolation from one another and from the universe but are part of a far greater, interacting scheme in which actions and activities of the past create those of the future, then all this begins to look rather different.

Certainly, Jimmy Page's interests in the occult suggest that he should believe in such a cosmic overview. Indeed, there are those .who would claim that it is solely down to Page's interests in these matters that such a tragic atmosphere has surrounded Led Zeppelin in its latter years. Personally, though, I don't think that Jimmy Page has inked a pact with Satan! To think like that is mere superstition— and that's taking into account certain rumors which have floated about the music business the past 18 months or so that there are even certain members of the Zeppelin entourage themselves who lay blame for these assorted misfortunes on Page's fascination with Aleister Crowley.

When it comes down to it, though, I don't really think that there's been some clear-cut metaphysical holy war of good and evil waged on the rock 'n' roll boards the band has been treading the past ten years. In fact, it's probably that outside interest which has kept the guitarist's head relatively together during the most successful years of the band. The occult, after all, is concerned with knowledge and plumbing one's own mystic depths for certain truths that are beneficial to the whole of humanity. Yes, of course, it can be used in a malevolent manner, but to view ail occult activity as the work of the Devil is a red herring laid down by Babylon and therefore is the work of the tricky Devil himself.

I think, though, that Jimmy Page is very confused. His confusion doesn't spring from his occult interests but, I feel, from the very nature of Led Zeppelin itself and his position with regard to the band of which he is indubitably the leader. Indeed, when we met in Swan Song's London office on the hottest day of the year, it became glaringly obvious that Jimmy Page was totally comfortable and, at times, positively exhilarated when talking about these extra-curricular activities.

It was noticeable, however, that when the conversation changed to the subject of his band he appeared frequently to find eye contact exceptionally awkward. Now, it's quite possible to blame that on the fact that in the isolated, self-enclosed existence in which Jimmy Page dwells he probably doesn't have that much verbal interchange with people outside his own sphere. Also, like many musicians who're far more at ease when living out their fantasies onstage, he may well be slightly nervous. Mind you, although a hermetic, fairly newsless lifestyle is part of the whole Led Zeppelin problem anyway, Page's behavior does suggest that he is not always totally convinced by his arguments—and Page is an adept in the art of being a media salesman for his band while at the same time revealing little about himself; check how many times the word "Knebworth" gets mentioned in this piece.

It's the very nature of Led Zeppelin itself that is'the problem. Let's not mince words, it's always been regarded as a "heavy" operation. There has been a slightly odd vibe about it.

Now, of course, part of the nature of rock 'n' roll is the manner in which it allows people involved with it to live out their childhood Cowboy & Indian fantasies. So I don't know whether Peter Grant really is a figure from the fringes of the underworld or whether he just enjoys people thinking that he is. I suppose it doesn't really matter (though in a way it does) because I've no doubt, as Page himself comments later on, that certain of the behind-the-scenes music industry figures with whom he has to deal, particularly in the States, actually are dodgy characters. So maybe it gives him an edge over them. (Unless they're also all just living out their fantasies—in which case it. all gets a bit complicated and selfperpetuating, and a bit pointless too.)

"The whole point of the bit in The Song Remains The Same film," Page tells me when I ask him about this, "where Peter plays a gangster, was just to send up all that and show how it was just a joke anyway."

Nevertheless, I counter, there was the slight problem with the security guy in San Francisco. There's certainly concern in his voice when he replies, "I didn't see it, you know, so I can't say exactly what happened. There were no million dollar law-suits put out on me, y'know.

"But," he continues, "you must remember that Bill Graham has a very heavy reputation, that all his security people have a reputation for heaviness. As for Peter...Well, he's a very big guy and, if people are coming up to him all the time and calling him a bastard and telling him to piss off to his face, then he's probably going to react accordingly."

"■■■ ...We just want to get back Into playing music. And we will be doing other dates. H H

Alright, fair enough. But let's not forget that John Bindon is currently in Brixton either awaiting or serving a sentence for a subsequently committed manslaughter— an incident which wasn't connected in any way wjth Led Zeppelin. Once again, judging from his reply to being reminded of this, there's no doubt that this genuinely troubles Page, much more out of real concern for Bindon, I feel, than for any unhappiness about him being linked with Zeppelin. It's a pity I forgot at the time, but I'd like to have also got his reaction to Nick Kent's claim that John Bonham once threw a drink over the hapless writer for a negative review.

But that's by the by, I suppose. It seems more important to tell the guitarist that, whether he's aware of this or not, an oftexpressed opinion on Led Zeppelin has been that the problems Robert Plant has faced have been something of a karmic backlash that Plant, as the most accessible and open band member, has had directed towards him.

Page seems very shocked by this. "I don't think that's so," he replies slowly, almost as though slightly dazed, "if what we were doing was really evil then...then I suppose we'd just put out lots of records and try and make loads of money...I hope that's not so."

Sometime about the middle of last Friday morning I'd had a call from the Swan Song press office. Could I arrive maybe an hour before the interview was due to begin? That way I could be given an earful of the new Zep waxing. I can't pretend the idea exactly thrilled me to the bones, especially in the light of the last studio album, Presence, which I find utterly unenjoyable. If I felt the same way about the new, as yet untitled, LP, it could mean a chilly start to an interview.

By lunchtime, however, this potentially awkward situation had been resolved by Jimmy Page himself. A further phonecall passed on the information that the guitarist felt it pointless for me to hear the record as it was, apparently, "a separate entity"— from what I'm not certain. Obviously it did cross my mind that maybe he was thinking the same way as myself and saw a little gain in the songs being numbered some time before the record was even released.

Perhaps predictably, when the record did come to be mentioned he was full of enthusiasm for it. The titles of the new numbers are: Side 1—"In The Evening," "South Bound Suarez," "Hot Dog;" Side 2 —"Carouselambra," "All My Love," "I'm Gonna Crawl." The Knebworth bashes will feature "at least two songs from the new album plus several numbers from previous LPs that haven't been performed live in the past. What can I say?"

I was also asked for some idea of the sort of questions I'd be asking. As I was at that time deciding on these for myself I couldn't really help out there. Besides, would this not have detracted from the natural spontaneity of the occasion? I was, however, informed that questions about the death of Plant's son and about Aleister Crowley were strictly taboo. This did not augur particularly well, especially when, while waiting for the assistant editor chap from the Melody Maker to finish his rap with Jim, photographer Adrian Boot emerged from that session to inform Pennie and myself that Page was "doing a Chuck Berry" and ignoring most of Watts' questions. The guitarist was also apparently none too happy about Boot's snapping needs.

In the event, of course, Page gave Pennie plenty of pix-taking time to prior to our encounter. Also, as far as my interview went, Page and I just started talking conversationally (but not before he made a rapid attempt to flog Knebworth) rather than adhering to any strict question and answer form. This situation lasted for much of the interview.

Page was drinking pints of lager from a straight plastic glass and chain smoking Marlboros. So was I. It was probably down to a combination of the booze and the hot weather, but the conversation quickly became very speedy. Maybe we were also blocked on the carbon monoxide fumes wafting in through the open window from the early evening rush-hour traffic three floors below on the Kings Road.

What with the roar of London Transport Roadmasters stopping just past the offices and the constant rumble of jets on their way to Heathrow overhead, it was often hard for either of us to make out what the other was saying. Though his enunciation is very clear indeed, Jimmy Page's soft Surrey accent—the family business is Page Motors in Epsom—makes him perhaps the most quietly spoken interviewee I've ever come across. Even so, I was pleased that hd'didn't pull the slumped-out whispering wimp number that I'm told is one of his favorite interview techniques. Not once, I think, did he lean back on the couch on which he was seated next to the window.

No doubt exacerbated by the booze intake-r-Jim is fond of the odd tipple, I'm told—perspiration poured off of his forehead in large drops, frequently lodging for a few moments in his close-to-shoulderlength hair. Coupled with the collarless striped white shirt he wore, he didn't look very different at all from when in the late 60's he laid down the ground rules for the classic pre-Raphaelite, faintly androgynous British rock star. He actually looked younger than when I'd encountered him a couple of years back. Only the lines around his sometimes troubled eyes gave any indication of age.

The Selling of Knebworth began right from the very outset. I don't think you really like doing interviews, do you, I ask? "Well, [laughs] it depends. I don't mind if the questions are alright."

You look incredibly well.

"Well, I was looking forward to...to Knebworth, actually. We've done a lot of rehearsing and checked things out. We've actually been down there and worked things out relative to the actual site."

It must seem odd with it being such a long time since you've played onstage...

"Well, it did at first...But then again it's like a natural amphitheatre, so I should imagine'it's actually quite a good gig to be at. I went to Blackbushe, but that was a bit of a sea of bodies. But it was great to see Dylan."

Phew, that was close. The Zim to the rescue. At least we can talk about Bob Dylan for a while. This might be handy. Maybe if I mention to Jim that I met Dylan last year when he went to an Alton Ellis gig at the 100 Club and that he told me how he preferred the vibe in England to that in the States, and also in Germany from where he'd just returned, then we can get onto this matter of Punk and The New Wave without too much discomfort.

...The Damned— i was absolutely amazed by the power that was coming out of them.

Instead, though, Page mentions his surprise that Dylan had played in Nuremburg. "I couldn't believe him doing that. They played the place where they had all the big rallies. He must have come out of there feeling very strange. I know I would and I'm not even Jewish."

He hasn't heard of Dylan's conversion to Christianity. "Oh, that's very interesting. Especially after that Nuremburg thing. When did that happen? Quite recently?"

Oh, about six months or so ago, I think.

"We met his mum once, actually," Page tells me, "it was about the third tour and we were in Miami, and this typical Miami woman comes up with the spectacles and tinted hair bit and she says, 'Oh, I hear you're a group. My son's a singer. You've probably heard of him—Bobby Dylan. He's a good lad,' she said.

"The strangest thing she said of all was that he always goes back to his...you know, the school turn-out when they got their degrees and things. He always goes back to that...Which is obviously a side of Dylan that many people would be actually shocked about. He's probably very orthodox in some areas where you expect him to be very bizarre and anarchistic."

Logically, I suppose, the matter of meeting Dylan at a reggae gig leads to discussion of matters Rastafarian. Jimmy Page is far more au fait with it. than I would have expected.

"Yeah, it's very interesting: the lost Tribe Of Israel and all that. It was at the time when Haile Selassie dies that I wondered 'What's going to happen now?' because there is this big thing that he's invincible and that he would never die but obviously," he chuckles, "he could give up his bodily form if he wanted to—that was the loophole.

"But it is fascinating."

We talk about Egypt for a minute or two. Page's trip to Cairo had, indeed, been the subject of some quite splendid rumors. On the first leg, I think it was, of that last ill fated Led Zeppelin U.S. tour it was said that one night he'd been watching TV when the screen became filled with flashing lines. Immediately, so the tale went, he cancelled the next dates and flew off to Egypt. The conversation didn't lead into my mentioning that and, besides, I'm fairly certain I once read a fairly thorough refutation by the guitarist of that story.

Thoughts of Cairo seem to make Page feel very happy. "I didn't want to come home," he smiles, "it was so good. I didn't go for long enough, though. I went at the end of an American tour and with every day I was there family ties in England were pulling more strongly. I just thought, 'Oh, I'll be back soon' and haven't made it yet. I'd certainly like to see The Valley Of The Kings near Luxor.

"I haven't been to many Arab countries, but I've been to Morocco and there and in other hot countries there's this constant hub bub, but in Egypt it's just so tranquil. It really is quite an experience. Let alone the pyramids."

Equinox, the Kensington occult bookshop that Page owned and which specialized in the works of Aleister Crowley, is closed these days. The lease expired and, besides, "It obviously wasn't going to run the way it should without some drastic business changes and I didn't really want to have to agree to all that. I basically just wanted the shop to be the nucleus, that's all."

His interests in the occult haven't in any way diminished, however. "I'm still very interested. I still read a lot of literature on it."

I mention that last time I'd gone past Equinox a small sticker that sofneone had placed on the door had attracted my attention. "For the real truth about the changes in the Church of Rome," it had read, "write to the following address". The name and address of a priest in Mexico was given. We talk about the Rasta belief that it was at the Pope's insistence that Mussolini invaded Ethiopia in order to prevent Haile Selassie organizing the Christian church in such a way that would have reduced the Catholic church to the second largest Christian. church in the world.

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"I know the Pope definitely blessed the bombers going to Ethiopia," says Page, "that's a fact. My lady went to the Vatican. She said it's like Fort Knox, a completely separate state. A highly guarded treasury. And they have all these links with suspect organizations...

"The whole image of the Pope being borne around St. Peter's on a throne doesn't even bear thinking about. They had some program on TV about the Vatican and they got through to one of the heads of the business division. And he was asked if it wouldn't be an act of faith to give all this wealth away—if your faith was sufficiently high and strong then obviously this wouldn't really affect the church. But he was dumbstruck. So obviously," he laughs, "he didn't have the faith."

Jimmy Page has had some involvement with the community politics up in Scotland where he owns Crowley's former home, Boleskine, on the shores of Loch Ness. After, against much opposition on the local council, a harbor wall utilizing raw materials had been built under the guidance of the local job recreation scheme. Page, largely as a result of previous similar activities within the community, was involved in the final unveiling ceremony. The local Labour man, he said, jumped on the platform at this event in a predictable attempt to make political mileage.

"I just got up and said Tm not here for any political reasons whatsoever but just from my own endeavors as an untrained musician. And it's just sheer determination that's been employed here against a good eighty per cent of the council who wished them to have no encouragement whatsoever.'

One is not particularly surprised that the politician appeared to milk the event for his personal aggrandisement; it is the nature of such a breed of people to behave in that manner, no matter what political partyThey belong to. It does seem interesting for a moment, though, that* when I inquire as to whether the council members were operating in a truly reactionary manner, Page seems a little uncomfortable when he realized that I regard "Reactionary" as being synonymous with "Tory".

Maybe that's by the bye. Page has, after all, been involved up there in other battles with officialdom. "The Hydro board in Scotland were putting in this scheme which wasn't of benefit to anyone except for a small percentage of local labourers— although, in fact, most of them were being brought in from places like Manchester and Liverpool.

"What it was going to do was pump power at peak times to the South. It wasn't going to benefit the Scots at all. And for this they were going to put pylons up all over the place and mess up the loch. There were no pylons there whatsoever before. And I just didn't think it was on. For them, of course it was purely a financial investment. I was really a revelation to see how these things go on. So corrupt.

I don't see any point In destroying things Just for the sake of It.

"But we managed to force a public inquiry whereby it was put under the Secretary of State. They really put you through it at those things. It's like a court of law. They try and throw so much mud at you. Although it does seem that in London these days if they're pulling down buildings to put up new ones they are trying to keep the old facades. It makes it much more palatable. At least you don't get things like that too much," he waves in the direction of the World's End council housing project.

"But," he continues, "so often people just get apathetic and think there's nothing they can do. At least sometimes you can uncover a bit of unsavory business that's going on. I do really care about these things. I don't particularly go around doing a load of public campaigning, but both those things were there on my doorstep. On the other hand it can help if.it is on your doorstep because it gives your protest much more credibility."

By now I'm feeling a bit confused by Page. I rather like him. Even though I have the reservation that when he pointed out of the window at the housing development he was perhaps more concerned with aesthetic niceties than with the bureaucratic contempt and condescension with which it is decided that human beings should have to live in such monstrosities, it still seems that his spirit is very definitely in the right direction. Yet how is this compatible with the lumbering dinosaur that his rock band has become?

Well Jimmy Page is essentially a conservative person. He is also a Conservative person. A Capricorn, he has much of the rather hidebound love of tradition and status that can be a characteristic of that sign. He could do with a bit of overstanding of things. He voted Tory at the last election, he says. "Not just for lighter taxes—I just couldn't vote Labour. They actually stated that they wanted to nationalize the media—so what possible criticism of them would you be able to have?"

Although I believe all politicians of whatever creed to be largely self-seeking egotists, I point out that, as the City already has effective control of both Fleet Street and ITV, then the Tories already control the media. Page doesn't seem that convinced.

He voted Tory at the previous election $ too, he te(ls me. "I voted Conservative | then because I believed in Heath. And I still jj believe that Edward Heath was a very 2 honest man. He was too honest to be a u politician. But I suppose that's politics."

Actually, I'm not surprised Page rates Heath, a man who was certainly superior to the deplorable Thatcher. Page has much of that same laissez-faire mercantilist attitude to life that Heath favored. The only problem with espousing that particular political philosophy is that it can permit you to piss on a lot of people in the name of freedom. I'm not suggesting that Page necessarily behaves in such a manner, of course. A better clue to his attitude to such matters comes in the same series of Trouser Press articles from which I took the Presley quotation.

He's talking about the song "Hats Off To Harper", on the third Zeppelin album:

"(Harper's) Stormcock was a fabulous album which didn't sell anything. Also, they wouldn't release his albums in America for quite a long time. For that I just thought, 'Well, hats off to you'. As far as I'm concerned, though, hats off to anybody who does what they think is right and refuses to sell out."

In the light of this quote, and another, more ambivalent one relating to the New Wave, I ask him if he'd ever in younger days inclined more to anarchy.

"Well," he replies with due deliberation, "anarchy's alright if you can see where you're going afterwards. Although I don't see any point in destroying things just for the sake of it. It's the easiest way out. It's hard to have an optimistic goal and strive towards it—that's really hard work. But, yes, anarchy can certainly be qn answer to a situation if there's no other answer."

Quite understandably the Establishment always presents anarchy as being very negative when, in fact, it's more concerned with a positive spirit...

"It's difficult," Page nods, "at the time when Hitler came into power in Germany during the 30's, he appeared to be stabilizing the economy and giving people more work and was emerging as a very patriarchal figure. The Germans felt that everything was going to be alright. Yet underneath was this fundamental plan-rbe it evil or whatever.

"And at the time when Hitler came ih there'd been a form of anarchy existing. So, yes, you just have to see at the end of the day what's really gone down."

And so, boys and girls, we come to that section of the interview when we talk to Jimmy Page about New Wave music. Even though he seems to consider Dire Straits a New Wave band, Page is perfectly aware that there are punk bands and punk bands who aren't really punk bands. He has heard The Clash and appears to rather like them. He warms very much to the mention of Ian Dury. "Yeah, he really imparts such a great feeling, doesn't he? Makes you feel so good. That was certainly the first thing that struck me about New Wave music1— that it was sheer adrenalin pouring out. Real energy just tearing to get out."

TURN TO PAGE 60

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 48

But how did the beat group Led Zeppelin relate to it? They were presumably aware of what was going on. I remember Page and Plant going down to the Roxy to check out The Damned once.

"We were aware of it," he nods, "but it's not...I mean, music is like a 360 degree circle from which some people may drop out to let others come in. And there are obvious examples of that—say, the feeling that Free generated and which was replaced by Bad Company. Also, the raw blues, going back to the early Fleetwood Mac days. Well, now you have George Thorogood. And Herman's Hermits are replaced by The Bay City Rollers.

"Bands like us and—I hate to say it but...The Floyd...we're off in our own little bits. It's always open for anybody who's really raw and earthy and who makes sheer rock 'n' roll music. Even though much of the New Wave had the political cpntent...I mean, The Damned—I was absolutely amazed by the power that was coming-out of them. Though they didn't really fit into the New Wave movement as such.

"Nevertheless, there are categories. But it's all relative; anyone who plays good music and is expressing themselves with an instrument or on vocals has got something to say. It just depends whether you can relate to them or not. And that also depends on whether your musical tastes are narrow or very broad."

. And certainly from what you're saying you would claim to be able to relate to New Wave...

"Yes. But I can also relate to classical music—and you wouldn't find them saying that..."

Oh, don't count on it. I'd think you'd be very surprised.

"Oh...well...good...well, they ought to."

I think if you went round to the places of a few punk musicians you'd be very surprised by the width of listening material you'd come across...

But equally, and I think this must be said, of.all the Old Fart bands certainly Led Zeppelin, for whatever reasons, are the most loathed...

"Really????" Jimmy Page sounds quite startled.

'Fraid so...

"We-e-elll..." he pauses for several moments, "...people write to us, you know, and a lot of younger people who I'd never have expected to have got into us have said that they got really fired up by the energy of New Wave bands—and they still like New Wave bands—but they got interested in the actual musical content and wanted to go one step further which is how they discovered bands like us...

"And...uhh...I'm not sure whether that's going to last or not," he laughs, not altogether confidently, "but it's quite good if you can keep turning people on."

Didn't you ever worry, though, over the past months while you were making the new record and planning the Knebworth thingy thafit might be like throwing a party for which no one turns up?

"Yeah," he laughs again, more confidently this time, "but no—because when we'd finished our album I knew at the time that it didn't matter if it didn't come out for nine months afterwards because I knew that I could rely on the fact that Led Zeppelin hadn't dated—the actual identity of the band is still there. There's a fresh approach which can still give it an edge.

"I had my reservations at one point about playing a date like Knebworth. But in the end it all went hand-in-hand with the LP. When that was finished I did actually stop and take a breath and I thought 'No, it's alright. We've moved on sufficiently to be able to see the next horizon'...

"We're not sounding complacent, I hope. There's a lot of hard work still to come obviously. It's not like we've felt we had to change the music to relate to any of the developments that've been going on. There's no tracks with disco beats or anything. But I think some of the numbers are some of the most immediate we've done anyway.

"Like I say it's not a new musical form but there is still something very fresh about it'"

But, prior to doing it, were you not perhaps apprehensive? I'm not talking about how you'd do in the States, where obviously you're still going to sell loads of records. Presumably it still does mean something to be still respected in your own country...

"No, sure. We were concerned about it being good. And we were pleased to hear that the actual environmental area of the stage was good. But if the playing hadn't been feeling right, I would've worried. But that feels alright so I'm pretty sure it'll be good..."

But I wasn't really talking about Led Zeppelin To Play Gig Shock Horror. I was actually wondering whether maybe you were concerned you might make this platter and no one would buy it in Blighty...

"Well, we were worrying about too many other things at the time. I was worried more about whether we were still going to jell. Having felt something special towards the band for that amount of time and still wanting that feeling to be there without...without being quite sure it would be. But then we got together a few times to play and could see that it still was...well, it was a very good feeling.

"The LP really is a bit of a by-product. To me Knebworth is far more important... Because people can buy the LP and we won't see how they're reacting to it. But," he laughs, "I will at Knebworth. The LP's a frozen statement which can be always referred to, but Knebworth's going to be different."

Do you actually see much of each other?

"No, not really."

Robert Plant and John Bonham don't live in London, do they? They live up in the Midlands, yeah?

"Yeah* they live pretty close to each other. No, I mean, we don't have monthly get-togethers for the sake of if."

Now look, you've been involved in community politics up in Scotland, but should it necessarily stop there? For whatever reasons, Knebworth is a huge gig. But a couple of weeks back The Clash—who are quite a big band these days; their last LP entered the charts at number two—did a couple of gigs for orphans. Have you ever thought of doing something like that?

"We did that—about the third year of the band. And we got fucked for it. Previously we'd played places like Manchester Free Trade Hall and the Albert Hall and we'd had all these letters saying 'Why do they let their fans down? Why don't they play the clubs any more?'

"So we said 'Yeah, let's play clubs!' And it was chaos because people couldn't get in. So the next barrage was 'Why are they so selfish doing small clubs?' So the supply-and-demand thing becomes a problem. So from then on w.e were faced with a sort of dilemma. But then again it be' came a challenge to see if we could try and make it work on a large scale.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm the first to admit it can get too large, but something like Knebworth can be a challenge because you know it's worked in the past. But we couldn't do that. We tried—when we'd done the LP, we were trying to work out where we could get in and play. But then we thought, 'Are we running away from something?' And we weren't.

"It was almost like denying what you were. And you've got to be true to yourself." •

Hmmm...

"I know what you mean, but it just gets impossible to do unless you play four weeks at the Marquee."

But you're supposed to be a rock 'n' roll band. Why don't you just p/ay? Look, it's not that hard: The Clash did two dates at the Notre Dame qff Leicester Square. It wasn't publicized—only by word of mouth. They played new songs, tried out new sets, made money for charity. So it obviously is feasible...

"I'll give you an example of a band that I don't think could play the Marquee: Status Quo."

What an odd thing to say. I'd rather have hoped that Page would consider Zeppelin to have a slightly different awareness to the dandruffy riffers. But of course, counter, they could pjay it if it wasn't announced as such...

This is ignored. "And I know they've played Wembley—so, if fifteen percent of those people tried to get in, it would be chaos. So you see the problem."

Not really..

My next question is inter-related with a lot of things about which we're talking— just how important is theinstitution of the music business to you? Do you feel that Led Zeppelin is part of the great corporate conglomerate? ,

"Obviously. Yeah. But to them you're only a matrix number. We sweat the songs out, though."

But is it down to just letting the shareholders have bigger dividends? You're a musician, right? I think that's what you feel you are...

"Yeah, but don't you see that we're only as good as whatever we come up with? Say we didn't put out another LP...Well, we've probably done really well for our record company but, if we did that, they'd probably come right down on us. I think it's probably really ruthless behind the scenes. It comes down to things like Kinney owning car-parks and things.

You imply, I suggest to Page, you don't care about the record company. But, by acceding to those demands to play those huge venues—and in a way they're just perpetuating the whole thing...

"I see what you mean—though I'm not sure you see what I mean. The problem is trying to supply the demand of the people who want to see you. You can only gauge that. I mean, it is a rather nice feeling deciding on this huge date and not being quite certain that there's enough demand and then finding you can play a second one the same size.

"Anyway, at this point in time we just want to get back into playing music. And we will be doing other dates. I don't know where: not necessarily in England. .We've been talking about playing Ibiza—Just getting in there and playing. Just so we've got a chance of trying out new ideas and new riffs and arrangements and songs."

So do you not think that Led Zeppelin has become part of some huge thing that's got totally out of hand?

"Well, if it has it certainly won't in the future because we'll be playing places like Ibiza."

Was there a stage that you reached with Led Zeppelin when it became important just to make money?

"No. Never. No, because we've been our own worst enemies over that. But you wouldn't see it like that now. But at the time we put out our fourth LP we had the worst reviews of anybody. And to ppt out an Untitled LP at that time was considered professional suicide. It probably doesn't seem it now. But then..."

Are you very materialistic?

"Well, I dunno. Yeah, I suppose I am a bit. But on the other hand, even though I have material possessions, the most important things are books, studios and records. If I had to get up and run that's what I'd try and take," he laughs.

Do you think that you personally have perhaps unavoidably become caught up in the Whole Great Swell?

"I don't think I have. No, no. I haven't. Otherwise I wouldn't have opened up a book shop I'd have opened a boutique or something where I could really make money. Equinox was never designed to make lots of money but just to tick over so it could publish books."

Do you think people have ever taken advantage of your having such desires?

"Quite probably. Yes," he replies in a certain tone.

But you're a reasonably happy human being?

"Well," he seems momentarily uncertain now, "as'happy as the next one." Then he gives a spirited chuckle. "I think I'm pretty fortunate in that I'm able to do what I'm best at. It's a pretty fortunate position to be doing what you really want to do and turning people on."

But you've made tapes with people like Keith Richards. Obviously you must have wanted to make records with other people...

"Yeah, I did. But in the end it comes down to playing with the people who I really like to play with."

Jim now tells me that he must leave in a few minutes as he has to meet Charlotte, the lady with whom he lives and by whom he has a five-year-old daughter, Scarlett. This is unfortunate. We were just getting going, it seemed to me. It's a pity also that interviews with members of Led Zeppelin are inevitably set in the anonymous Swan Song offices, thus providing writers, and therefore readers, with little comprehension as to how the band members actually live. Even the Stones seem to have woken up to the fact that both journalist and band benefit from less clinically set-up situations. But I suppose that's all part of the Led Zeppelin problem anyway.

There were many other things I'd like to have asked Page: what have he and the other three band-members done for the last eighteen months or so, for example? Whose records has Page been playing recently? Why doesn't Swan Song sign any hot'new acts?

As it is, though, ! only have time to touch on some of the more, uhh^'controversial" topics that are raised in the first section of this piece.

A large part of the original strength of Led Zeppelin surely stemmed from the energies and ideas Page derived from his lengthy session work in the 60's. Now, though, it seems that all that has been exhausted and there is little new creative, input to replace it. Page's views on the music business show a startling lack of original thought and clarity. Mainly, though, they suggest, as I mentioned earlier, confusion. And it's by perpetrating that state of chaos and confusion that the music business is able to persist in its Babylonian and fatuous desire to be part of the vast dehumanized, cynical corporate state. Grrrrr...

On the other hand, compared with certain of his contemporaries, maybe he's not faring too badly. I ask him if he feels isolated and cut-off. He claims not to feel that now, though admits to having been in a pretty weird state round about the time of the band's fourth LP.

"Of course," he adds, "it can do very odd things to you, the whole guitar hero bit. Look at Eric Clapton. Peter Green... Well, that's the obvious example. Jimmy Page: well, I don't think I'm doing too badly," he laughs, with a fair amount of confidence.