JIMMY PAGE
Led Zeppelin rocker says he’s not arrogant, there’s just no one like him.
‘I’d lost a bosom buddy and comrade,” says Jimmy Page, staring through the eager interviewer before him, towards the stage at Toronto’s Masonic Temple which he performed on as both a member of The Yardbirds and Led Zeppelin nearly half a century ago. And, for the first time in our 40 minute interview, the 71-year-old high priest of rock is lost for words.
He’s talking, of course, of John Bonham, the thunderous war machine backbone of Zeppelin whose death in 1980 stopped arguably the most influential and inarguably most monumental group in music history in its tracks, dissolving them instantly. “I was just so aware of the loss to his family and the world of music in general,” he stammers before conceding, “If it’d had been me who went I don’t think they’d been able to replace me either.”
Page’s unease with personal matters isn’t out of character. Even in his time as Zeppelin’s bandleader and rock’s mystical bête noir, he despised interviews. But as he puts to bed what he refers to as the “Herculean labour” of remastering the wealth of unreleased Zeppelin studio material for a series of lovingly crafted box sets — the final three of which are out this Friday — he can taste the finish line of a love labour’s lost. “In effect, what it does is it doubles the amount of studio output,” he says. “I knew it was the right thing to do. So many pieces of music that have come out people didn’t know existed. Sometimes, not even the rest of the band. They’d forgotten to be honest with you.”
He pauses, considering his next words carefully so as to not dig deeper into the chasm that exists between himself and former comrade Robert Plant over the singer’s refusal to tour a reunited Led Zeppelin (a subject interviewers were warned was off the table). “I’m just telling you the truth on that.”
A session musician responsible for guitar parts in everything from Bond theme “Goldfinger” to Donavan’s “Sunshine Superman” and even The Who’s “Can’t Explain,” Page set the path for Zeppelin when he was drafted to succeed Jeff Beck in The Yardbirds. When the group fell apart in 1968, Page was forced to put together a lineup to fulfil live commitments in Scandinavia. Drafting in a trio of the best musical musicians he could find at the time, Page convened the New Yardbirds as a musical supergroup before changing the name to Led Zeppelin in honour of a description of a previous failed supergroup attempt with Who drummer Keith Moon.
Despite having no experience, Page also took on production duties to avoid repeating the mistakes he witnessed in the Yardbirds. “Having to do these awful singles was really soul destroying for the Yardbirds. I didn’t want to fall into the trap,” he recalls. “So when I formed Led Zeppelin I wanted to be the producer because I didn’t want anyone getting in the way.”
Asked why he feels Zeppelin succeeded while Clapton’s own supergroup Cream floundered, Page smiles. “They didn’t have a producer like me.”
“I’m not being arrogant,” he explains. “When you’ve got a band like that you need to be able to charge it through. And I’m saying that with the material that was being put forward for each album so there was a definite change to it, they weren’t necessarily doing that, were they? You need somebody who’s got their hand on the wheel of the ship.”
Page recalls taking to the job with OCD-like dedication, set- ting out a masterplan to create a harmonious musical interlocking which would showcase his evolving approach to the guitar — taking in a wide variety of styles from the avant-garde to the eastern scales and American blues riffs — without sacrificing its commercial appeal.
“I wanted to have a band where it’s a guitar album but not at the expense of anybody else. That’s the difference between us and every other band,” he says. “It was built around the drums so you’ve got a stereo picture of the drums and the things that are built on it.”
Much of this studio experimentation can be heard in the unearthed material, which includes early mixes of many of Zeppelin’s legendary catalogue, including a bass groove heavy “When The Levee Breaks,” an alternative mix of “Stairway To Heaven” and an early pass on Page’s favourite, “Whole Lotta Love.”
“The versions on the studio album are the definitive versions, but that doesn’t take away anything from these other, stripped down versions,” he points out. “‘Whole Lotta Love’ just came out like a voodoo child! I wanted to have a riff that was so iconic that every time people heard it, it would fill them with joy. It would put a smile on their face.”
In 1982, Led Zeppelin released their posthumous album Coda, a collection of career-spanning outtakes released to fill a contractual obligation. Recalling those two years after Bonham’s passing, Page says he couldn’t even pick up a guitar. “Coda, under the circumstances ... that was the most difficult album for me to do. It wasn’t possible or feasible to continue with a new drummer. And there wasn’t a drummer who could have possibly fit in and fly with the rest of us.”
For the newest release, Page hoped to bring a more positive energy to the bookend, rounding up his favourite rare Zeppelin material, including a peppy outtake from the first album called “Sugar Momma” and two songs he and Plant recorded in India with a Bollywood Orchestra.
It will be, he says, what was and what will never be again. A definitive bow he can now put behind him to focus on a new project. Still, the mind can’t help wondering what could have been had he not lost his brother in arms.
“There would have been another album after (final studio release) In Through The Outdoor. For sure,” he says. “John Bonham and I had spoken about what we would do next. I was keen to move it back into riffs but not the obvious. If you listen to “Bonzo’s Montreux” (off Coda) you can hear how he likes to play so it was clear what we’d do. I just have a good collection of riffs and then kick it off.”
I wanted to be the producer because I didn’t want anyone getting in the way