Jimmy Page: Gibsons, Groundhogs And Gin

Of the artists who have appeared on the cover of CREEM lately, Jimmy Page is perhaps the most intriguing and misrepresented. Respected, even idolized, he remains an enigma—a musical genius whose craft speaks for itself. In the triumvirate of rock guitar purity (alongside Clapton and Beck), Page stands apart in having revolutionized the instrument, setting standards that to this day are incessantly imitated, but rarely equalled.

Since Led Zeppelin's split some eight years ago, he has been involved in a hefty number of recording and touring outfits: The Firm, John Paul Jones' Scream For Help soundtrack, Box Of Frogs, Roy Harper, The Honeydrippers, Bill Wyman's Willy And The Poor Boys, the A.R.M.S. tour, Robert Plant's Now And Zen, and of course, Live Aid and Atlantic Records' 40th Anniversary concert.

Over 20 years into his career, Jimmy Page seems to have lost none of the drive and enthusiasm long associated with his name. His music remains innovative, emotional, brilliant—truly a reflection of its unique creator.

Preparing for an interview with Page is a nerve-wracking experience. What can one possibly ask that hasn't been asked a thousand times before? Any fears I may have had about his physical state, coherence or willingness to be cooperative were quickly put to rest. Page, looking youthful and healthy, was shy at the onset. He quickly relaxed, however, casually drinking coffee and smiling constantly. When it was mentioned that we would cover similar groynd to that explored by others, he acknowledged, 'J understand— same picture, new frame.'

What made this the right time for you to release a solo album?

I guess the point when I decided to do it. . . during the time that I was with The Firm, the concept of what we were doing, Paul and I, was intially to do a single album. One album and one tour, anyway, as a vehicle to show musically that we were still around both on record and in a live situation. However, we did more than one album and tour, but that was the concept, the feel of things. He had a solo career prior to that. I didn't, but I already had in mind that after The Firm, I wanted to start solo projects, and here we are; this is the first output.

When you spend nine months working on an album, how do you keep from getting too close to the materiallosing objectivity, or simply tiring of it?

If you can picture an expert way of doing this, the initial idea of most of the songs on Outrider started with a riff that builds into a song. Eventually, that gets orchestrated accordingly as either an instrumental that stays as it is, or if not, a vocal track is laid on. I try various ideas around each theme, if you see what I mean. I'll try quite a lot of ideas around something, then sit back and review what I've done.

That it becomes, or rather it evolves, into the mix of the song. I suppose until the thing is finally mixed and you have space between finishing the album and reviewing it, you don't really sit back. You just keep pushing forward. 0

Was it difficult to balance your artistic goals for Outrider against what the 'business' demands of an artist?

Well, with this album, by hearing it you realize immediately • that it is not geared to any commercial aspect. The only commercial part is the fact that I'm doing this right now, the interviews. But then again, that process is a sheer factor of the readers already knowing that the album is done.

Musically, I know in fact that I worked totally opposite of the commercial genre.

I'd like to take you back a few years . . .

That's fine!

When Zeppelin experienced its first taste of success, were you ready?

I guess I was ready, as evidenced by the sheer fact that l I'm still here now. I didn't know I was being successful when I was. It's something you have to look back on in retrospect.

1 At the time, I wasn't even aware.

When did it become obvious to you?

f At no point, really. I guess I can say it became apparent * when we had not come here for over a year. Because in the early days, we toured here a hell of a lot, and the rest of the world as well. It was around the time of the fourth album and we hadn't been here for a year, which was uncharacteristic. We were putting out the album which was untitled and the first two dates we played, one was for 50,000 people and the second was for 57,000. That's when I knew actually that a lot of people had been touched by what we were doing. At that point, I realized it, which is quite a way down the line.

As different as Zeppelin seemed from any other group at the time, can you look back and see similarities in what everyone else was trying to do?

I guess anyone who forms or becomes involved in a band ... I guess it's obvious that I've been very fortunatewithin that situation. I would assume that anyone involved with a band wishes to make music that (A) is respected by contemporaries, friends and such, other musicians, and (B) withstands the test of time, especially, in the rock and roll aspect of things. I've been fortunate that both of those goals have been achieved.

What mood do you have to be in to play your best?

I guess whatever mood I'm in, if I'm going to play guitar, it is reflected. Nothing is that easy or that difficult. I guess the mood just takes you. I've never been safe and my moods aren't safe. If they were, I could control them better. The guitar is great therapy for me. I don't know what would have happened to me if I'd lived without the guitar. I guess as far as that aspect goes, where some people might throw plates against the wall, I take out my guitar.

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'I should practice actually more than I do . . ."

Have you found the ideal guitar?

My Les Paul '59 is probably the closest to it at the moment, but it doesn't have a tremolo arm on it. What I'm doing actually is constructing some guitars accordingly. Every guitar is different. They're all different pieces of wood so they all sound totally different. It's because of that, because each piece of wood is different, and it's a tactile instrument.

The years you spent producing and recording with other artists—what did that teach you about playing and songwriting? Also, how do you play on such diverse records, yet retain your own musical personality?

What you try to do in that case is simply do what you do best. If you're talking about the various situations ... oh, you said a lot in that one question, actually! (laughs) I mean, as far as me playing with other artists, I take that back to the studio days and it was good because I applied myself to the situation and I supposed it was self-discipline, really. (Two glass-paned doors to the suite balcony are open. At this point, loud, somewhat offensive music drifts in) What is that? In England it would be an ice cream cart!

It sounds like the ice cream carts in Georgia!

(Laughing) Must be an ice cream cart!

Or a dreadful band practicing close by!

(Both laughing) Where were we? (The music stops, then starts again). We started talking about composing. It's a question of self-discipline, and I think that's usually in check. Are you . . . (music plays again, stops) Are you (music starts again—both laughing) disciplined to this day? (Music stops)

(Music starts, more laughter) I should practice actually more than what I do, but here we are! As far as composing goes, then it's a question of, I assume, the spontaneity of what you're doing that that's where discipline comes in.

What is the difference between producing yourself and others? Could you produce someone whose music you didn't like?

As far as myself, that's totally subjective. It's easier to be objective about another's than one's own. But I couldn't produce someone I didn't like, of course not! (Music starts again, both laughing as writer closes door) I'll certainly never produce his record!

Does the recording have to be perfect or do you get off on the mistakes?

The recording is never perfect. I leave some mistakes in, sure! Why not? I mean, I don't want to get things so clinical that they can't breathe. There's a lot of breathing space in mistakes I've made on recordings!

The past couple of years have seen such recurrent interest in the music of the '60s and '70s. Do you think the '80s are as vibrant?

We haven't finished with the '80s yet, but speaking personally, I don't think they're quite so vibrant or exciting, if you're talking about what's on record. But what isn't recorded, what's being played in clubs here and there and everywhere, yes, it is just as vibrant.

What do you think is missing in what's being recorded? My own personal taste toward things—there's a steady trend with new bands especially, and I can only say for England because I don't live here and I haven't got my finger on the pulse. In England there has been a steady flow of what is more image-pop bands coming now. But that's all reflected through media, you see. It's more image than music because it's more producers' records than musicians' records and it's very constructed anyway. It's almost preconceived before they make the record. So that is the only part of music at this moment that I'm not really very happy with because it almost comes to a point where one is very disposable. It's image-pop, fashion-pop, and fashion is disposable as anything. That's why I don't listen to the radio very much or listen to the television because in England, that's what you get a hell of a lot of. I prefer to listen to music which is more live and less contrived.

'Where some people might throw plates against the wall, I play guitar.'

Have audiences changed much over the years?

I don't think the audience to music has changed. I think the attitude to music, generally speaking, has changed. They're totally receptive, but their music has so many areas to it and it's gone a 360-degree circle. There are so many ... if one has to classify music to a degree and put things into their slots, there is a receptive audience to all of that. So the audience is going to be in a state of change, just like the music is.

When you met Les Paul, you described the experience as 'amazing.' You had your photograph taken together and so forth. Can you relate this to the way your fans feel when they see, or meet you?

Of course I can, yeah, sure! Because it's great, actually, if they feel the same warmth I did when I met Les because he was a real hero and at the time I met him, I didn't even know he was playing. It was just by chance that I saw he was playing at this club and it was a fabulous experience. As far as obviously meeting him, that was an experience in itself! Yeah, sure, why not? I think the warmth I felt at the time, I hope that's relative, anyway, to people when they meet me. Do you agree that there's a price paid for fame? You do what you love, it reaches such proportions, then you get stared at, give up your privacy, could be at home instead of doing this . . .

Oh, I hope I haven't given you that impression!

Actually, you haven't, not at all ...

Because I wouldn't want you to think that! It's all part and parcel of the media. If you're involved with the media, which I suppose we all are, especially in music, there are so many aspects. If you're going to communicate, you relate to the media. Is that not true?

I guess so. But a lot of performers simply refuse.

I haven't done that yet. If you put out records, that is a statement and that is public, so obviously, I would think or assume you make that statement as public as possible. As far as what's private goes, that's different altogether. You keep that as private as you wish.

From the time you first picked up a guitar until the present, how has the meaning of music changed and/or stayed the same?

I don't think the application has changed at all and it shouldn't have. The determination of what I'm doing and what I was doing are pretty much the same. My heart's in what I do and that's that and the only way it will change is if I get a transplant, which I don't intend to do! And hopefully, this carriage of a vehicle will continue! S