The unsavory truth about Led Zeppelin

Underage escorts, drugs and Satanism went hand in hand with the heaviest rock band [heavy rock] in history. So why does the documentary Becoming Led Zeppelin ignore all of this?

By: Neil McCormick, rock critic / The Daily Telegraph
Translation: Telegrafi.com

In 1969, in a dimly lit Paris television studio, Led Zeppelin burst into action with [the song] Communication Breakdown as if they were trying to tear down the entire fabric of Western civilization. In a tie-dye shirt and tight red pants, the 20-year-old frontman, Robert Plant, trembles and writhes, clutching his slender body with a sensual fervor, while his voice rises and echoes like a mad voodoo spirit. Jimmy Page leans over his guitar, long-haired and in velvet pants, drawing sounds from the instrument that were never thought to come out – sounds that have never been heard before on this planet.

Together with them, John Paul Jones on bass and John Bonham on drums, they create an extraordinary rhythmic powerhouse, where virtuoso jazz techniques blend with the uncompromising intensity of proto-heavy rock. Meanwhile, the audience stands sullen and bewildered, arms crossed, bags clutched to their bodies, fingers in their ears, staring bewildered at this terrifying vision of the future of pop music.

The new documentary film, Becoming Led Zeppelin, tells the story of how four incredibly talented young men came together to create the greatest rock band the world has ever seen – and probably never will again. It’s worth seeing in theaters just for the grandeur of the sound blasting from the massive speakers – a shocking assault of electric blues that has lost none of its punch over the decades.

With over two hours of carefully restored footage, interspersed with interviews with surviving members of the group, Becoming Led Zeppelin tells the story of how Jimmy Page, a talented and sought-after guitarist on the British music scene, recruited the best unknown blues musicians of the 60s to realize his creative vision for a new style of heavy rock. Starting in the post-war ruins of London and Birmingham, exploring early influences and early adventures, the film takes us through the formation of the band in August 1968, their first tours and two extraordinary albums, to an unforgettable triumph at the Royal Albert Hall in January 1970, in front of the likes of John Lennon, Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck – on the verge of conquering the world. It's a fascinating story. But it's not the whole story.

As the title and description suggest, “the first officially sanctioned film about the iconic band,” this is an origin story about the band, told with the approval of its own members. As a result, it eschews critical analysis and objective perspectives, ending the film before the narrative really takes off. It thus avoids dealing with the near-mythical trajectory of the demise of a band whose rise to power was accompanied by major controversy, creating a wildly decadent model of hedonism in the world of entertainment, and (rightly or wrongly) giving the band a dark, satanic reputation, associated with sexual abuse and violent aggression, before it all ended in tragedy, drug addiction, and death. Let’s put it this way: no sharks were harmed in the making of this film.

The shark story is a dark tale that has haunted Led Zeppelin for years – a scandalous and much-discussed tale dating back to their first American tour with Vanilla Fudge in 1969 (within the confines of the film’s narrative). The incident concerns a fishing expedition from the Edgewater Hotel in Seattle, organized by drummer “Bonzo” Bonham and the band’s infamous tour manager, Richard Cole, where a naked blonde escort was filmed writhing in fish waste while Bonham performed sexual acts on her using shark remains.

It is one of many rampant incidents of behind-the-scenes degeneracy, reported in biographies such as Hammer of the gods by Steven Davis, Trampled Underfoot by Barney Hoskyns, Stick It by Carmine Appice of Vanilla Fudge and in Cole's own memoirs, Stairway to Heaven: Led Zeppelin Uncensored, where he insisted that the fish was a “campecanus snapper” and that the girl in question was a voluntary participant. The incriminating film shot on eight millimeter film has never been released.

What makes this story so sickening is that it lives on because of Led Zeppelin’s reputation, which extended far beyond the music. Managed by Peter Grant, a brilliant but intimidating and confrontational figure – a former wrestler and night-time bodyguard who stood 1.88ft 136in (720m) tall and weighed XNUMXlbs (XNUMXkg) – Zeppelin transformed the rock industry with unprecedented gig fees and upfront fees. They toured stadiums in a custom Boeing XNUMX, dubbed the “Starship”, adapted to include a bedroom with a large waterbed, a synthetic plush bedspread and a shower – the alleged scene of much questionable activity. During this time, they gained an unrivaled reputation for rude and abusive behaviour.

People who were not liked by the band were threatened or beaten. Hotel rooms were brutally vandalized, women were subjected to numerous humiliations. Jimmy Page became addicted to heroin and was rumored to have a penchant for underage girls. John Bonham became a chronic alcoholic and cocaine user, with a reputation for unpredictable acts of violence.

During their final American tour in 1977, John Bonham, Peter Grant, Richard Cole and a security guard were arrested for the brutal beating of an unfortunate employee of concert promoter Bill Graham (they pleaded guilty without contest and eventually reached an out-of-court settlement). “The bigger they got, the worse (Bonzo) got,” said Andy Johns, the band’s sound engineer (interviewed for the book Trampled Underfoot"It had a lot to do with Page, who would provoke him and Coley and then let them explode... I saw horrible things. They loved to humiliate women."

Although it’s not mentioned in the film, this atmosphere of menace and darkness has been part of Led Zeppelin’s history from the beginning. Chris Blackwell, the founder of Island Records, heard the then-unnamed foursome recording their debut album at Olympic Studios in 1968. “I knew right away they were going to be big. The music was incredible,” he told me. But he also admitted, “I’m glad I didn’t sign them. They were too dangerous, in my opinion.”

“When Zeppelin get together, something bad happens. Bad karma,” Phil Collins, the drummer for Genesis, told me in 2016. Collins played on two of Robert Plant’s solo albums and was recruited to play drums during the band’s messy reunion concert. Live Aid in 1985, an experience that none of those involved have fond memories of. "Everything about the band Zeppelin: there's a strange chemistry going on. It's like a dark form of alchemy. Everything becomes very dark – even with a hint of sulfur."

Part of this atmosphere probably stemmed from Jimmy Page's obsession with the notorious British occultist Aleister Crowley, who before his death in 1947, nicknamed himself "The Wickedest Man in the World." Page's interest began in his teens, when he read Crowley's book, Magick, especially his credo "Do what you will, that's the whole law", parts of which Page engraved on the disc masters of the first editions of the album Zeppelin III of 1971. Page became an avid collector of Crowley memorabilia and in 1971, enriched by the group's success, bought and restored his Loch Ness villa [Boleskine House], which was used for scenes in the group's 1976 film, The Song Remains the Same.

Since the band's breakup, Page has been reticent on the subject, but in 1977 he told his future biographer, Chris Salewicz, that he was fascinated by "Crowley's system of self-liberation, where oppression was considered the greatest sin." It all had to do with Page's belief that he could create an unstoppable rock band. "When you've discovered your true will, you have to go forward like a steam train," he told Salewicz. "If you put all your energy into it, there's no doubt you'll succeed."

Page undoubtedly shared some of Crowley's more decadent tendencies. During his tours, many witnesses reported that he carried with him a suitcase filled with whips, chains, balls, and other erotic paraphernalia, the use of which Crowley advocated for harnessing magical power through sexual rituals. "Crowley didn't have a high opinion of women," Page admitted in a rare and candid interview, adding, "And I don't think he was wrong."

The arrival of Led Zeppelin in Los Angeles in 1969 coincided with the emergence of an extremely active escort scene, many of whom were under the age of consent. Pamela Des Barres, author of the leading autobiography on escorts, I'm With the Band, was Jimmy Page's on-again, off-again girlfriend from 1969 to 1973, and recalls the influence of "these hot, young girls who were obsessed with these rock stars – they just kept going."

Like many others who lived through that era, Des Barres is often hesitant and defensive about the behaviors that the generation after her adopted. #MeToo sees them in a much less forgiving light, speaking vaguely of “a pocket of time” when all the rules were essentially suspended. The late rock journalist Mick Farren described the scene in a much less romanticized way, expressing his disgust at a reality he described as “drenched in cum, beer and disgust”, recalling how band members, in a back room of a disco, “would get oral from 13-year-olds under the table”.

Film Almost Famous is based on the first-hand experiences of writer-director Cameron Crowe, who as a teenage journalist toured with the band Led Zeppelin in 1973. “What I was trying to capture was the intricate denial that girls are involved in,” Crowe said. “They talk about themselves as muses … but when you meet rock stars, you realize that (girls) are just trinkets.”

Zeppelin tend to be very reserved when it comes to their behavior in the 70s. Over the years I have interviewed all the surviving members of the band and I have found them to be knowledgeable, civilized and polite, but they are all cautious and (I think it is fair to say) uncomfortable with some aspects of the hedonistic rock culture they once dominated. John Paul Jones claims that he always took time away from the wild stage to spend time with the laid-back hippies on tour.

Robert Plant tends to be quite regretful: “There was excess, there was adventure, there was all that stuff… It was something to behold. But now it seems to me that it went by too quickly. And there was also a lot of sobering things.” Jimmy Page has given an incredible defense, claiming that he spent most of those tours in his hotel room drinking tea. “There’s a lot of water under the bridge for everyone who survived that era. End of story.”

Unfortunately, Bonham did not survive. The real end of the band came during rehearsals for the 1980 tour, when he choked on his own vomit after a day of drinking that had begun with a “breakfast” of four doubles of vodka. At the time, Zeppelin were in a creative decline, a process that could be said to have been accelerated by Page’s addiction to heroin (another thing he shared with his idol, Crowley). Plant, who had lost his five-year-old son, Karac, to a stomach virus in 1977, was increasingly losing enthusiasm for the band’s power. The three remaining members agreed that their story was over, just 12 years and eight albums after it all began (a posthumous, but quite good, album). Tail, was published in 1982).

There would be a final, extremely powerful reunion at the O2 Arena in 2007, with Bonham’s son Jason on drums. But despite offers worth hundreds of millions of pounds for a new tour, Plant, in particular, has made it clear that he is not interested. “You can never go back,” he once told me. “You have to move forward.” Of all the band members, he has remained the most active and critically acclaimed, releasing 14 albums and regularly touring small venues with experimental fusion bands. Page, meanwhile, has made just four albums and released no original music this century, constantly busy with Led Zeppelin-related projects, including this latest film.

Becoming Led Zeppelin sincerely tries to bring attention back to their musicianship, separating it from myth and madness. The result, unfortunately, is somewhat dry and a little dishonest, with all the band members – now elderly – speaking of their experiences only in terms of “fun”, casting a shadow of oblivion over anything that doesn’t fit their memories.

But the music speaks for itself. The images from the concerts and television performances still remain shocking, with a force that defies the passage of time. It is unlikely that the conditions will ever again bring together such a group of young, charismatic, virtuosos, creating visionary music at the limits of human ability and technological advances, with such an impact on pop culture. We may never see a band like Led Zeppelin again. But, considering everything that came with it, maybe that's a good thing. /Telegraph/