POP MUSIC : Back From the Led : It’s been a long time since Jimmy Page really rock ‘n’ rolled, but the Zeppelin guitarist found a spark working with David Coverdale

Led Zeppelin cast such an enormous shadow over rock that it’s no wonder guitarist Jimmy Page, the group’s founder and chief musical architect, is still trying to move out from under it.

By the time the British band called it quits after the death of drummer John Bonham in 1980, Zeppelin stood over even the Rolling Stones as the biggest live draw in the world.

Critics often downgraded the quartet--which also included singer Robert Plant and bassist-keyboardist John Paul Jones--for its sometimes bombastic approach and frequently insubstantial lyrics.

But the band’s most memorable songs--especially the epic “Stairway to Heaven”--are as deeply implanted in the rock consciousness as anything penned by Lennon & McCartney or Bob Dylan.

What distinguished Zeppelin was the almost frightening power of its folk, rock and blues-influenced sound. The wellspring of heavy-metal music, Zeppelin’s sonic assault was so overwhelming that it’s little wonder the band’s presence is echoed in the works of bands from Jane’s Addiction to Metallica.

Interest in its music has remained high enough that a four-disc box set in 1990 became the biggest selling CD retrospective ever--an estimated 1 million copies sold at almost $70 each. A second retrospective is now scheduled.

Page has made numerous attempts to reassert his musical imprint on rock, including a 1982 film soundtrack, two albums and a U.S. tour with a group called the Firm (featuring singer Paul Rodgers from Bad Company) and a 1988 solo album and tour.

Nothing, however, reflected the power and confidence of his Zeppelin days--until now.

In a partnership with vocalist David Coverdale, of Whitesnake and Deep Purple fame, Page has formed a band--Coverdale/Page--whose debut album, which will be released Tuesday by Geffen Records, recaptures much of Zeppelin’s blues-rock power and intensity. (See review, Page 60.)

If the rock world has spent more than a decade wondering if Page would ever regain his old touch, you can imagine his own anxiety.

“I think everyone goes through a period where you have a fear of losing . . . that spark, and I went through some of that,” the guitarist says, sitting in a West Hollywood hotel room with Coverdale.

“I was fully aware the work that I did during the ‘80s certainly wasn’t of the quality of Zeppelin, but that wasn’t necessarily my own fault. The other components weren’t there. I didn’t feel I had the right pieces.

“But working with David was a totally different thing. It was suddenly right back to that original spark of creativity and ideas flowing. I feel I have my heart in it again.”

Page, 49, wears his rock legacy well. Already inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of the Yardbirds, he will be inducted a second time when Led Zeppelin becomes eligible for the Hall next year.

Despite all the tales over the years of wild, indulgent Zeppelin behavior, Page comes across as a shy, soft-spoken man, which helps explain why he never tried to grab the personal spotlight a la Mick Jagger. His obsession was the music.

“Zeppelin became so huge that it’s hard sometimes for people to understand that it was really the music that we loved,” he says. “I knew we were doing something substantial. I just knew it--and that’s what interested me, not the rest of it. I was constantly writing for the band, working on production, all the rest of it. That was my life.”

Page says he was too devastated when Bonham died to continue the band.

“John was a dear friend and one of the greatest drummers who ever lived,” he says. “His death just knocked me sideways. I didn’t want to play guitar, didn’t want to listen to any music. . . . But some of the stories got out of hand. It was never a question of my sanity or a vow to never play again.”

Page did get back together with Plant and Jones for short sets at Live Aid in 1985 and at the Atlantic Records’ 40th anniversary party in 1988, but few fans ever expected the group to go back into the studio.

In truth, the guitarist was ready to put Zeppelin back together by the time he remastered the tracks for the 1990 Led Zeppelin box set.

“I think I had always hoped we could work together again in some capacity because basically there was such a wonderful songwriting collaboration.”

Page said talks about a reunion project went on for months, with Plant being the one to eventually reject it.

That’s when Page decided to make a second solo album--the project that turned into the Coverdale/Page album.

“I waded through scores of cassettes, looking for a singer for the album, but I didn’t get inspired by anyone,” he says. “I was getting quite depressed. I certainly didn’t want to do an instrumental album, but . . . .”

The solution came with a phone call from his manager, Brian Goode: What about David Coverdale, the veteran British singer best known in the ‘90s as the leader of the best-selling Whitesnake?

Page was intrigued. He didn’t know his fellow Englishman, except in passing, but he did know the voice. The pair got together in New York early in 1991, just to see how comfortable they’d be. The personalities clicked and the partnership was started.

“A lot of people could misconstrue the band as some sort of corporate (game plan) because we share the same record company, but that was purely coincidental. We didn’t set out to make Led Snake,” Coverdale says, joining the conversation.

“The first indication of just how special this could be was when Jimmy and I started walked around Manhattan and actually stopped traffic. People started honking their horns and asking if we were going to be working together. It was a very chilling moment in a positive sense.”

If Page tends to be retiring in person, Coverdale is outgoing and unusually articulate.

Despite the group’s massive commercial success with such albums as 1987’s “Whitesnake,” a collection that sold more than 10 million copies worldwide, Whitesnake’s music was generally downgraded by critics as lightweight. The group’s flashy videos also turned Coverdale into a caricature of a high-prancing rock star.

Sitting with Page, Coverdale, 41, shudders at the memory of what he calls his “mousse abuse” period.

“I had finished my world tour in 1990 in an appalling, confused state across the board . . . privately and professionally,” he says, as if still puzzled by the forces that engulfed him.

“I just had to stop everything . . . this whole circus. I had never gone into (music) for the image thing at all . . . and I really couldn’t do it anymore.”

So Coverdale brought Whitesnake to an indefinite halt and headed for his home in the Lake Tahoe area in November, 1990, to reflect on his future.

“Well, it turned out to be the shortest retirement since Sinatra’s,” he says, laughing.

By the following spring, he and Page were in Lake Tahoe working on songs--recording demos on a $50 boombox from Radio Shack.

Despite their histories of success, the common factor for this duo was their mutual love of blues-rock.

Coverdale, who is from England’s industrial Midlands, points to the day a substitute teacher played Leadbelly recordings during music class as one turning point in his life. “Out of the 20 kids in the room, I was the only one whose hair stood up,” he says fondly. “The music spoke to me in volumes.”

Later, Jimi Hendrix, Otis Redding, the Stax/Volt records and England’s Joe Cocker added to his enthusiasm for blues-related rock.

Page, from Middlesex, cites Elvis Presley’s “Baby, Let’s Play House” as his first rock ‘n’ roll thrill. “This chap next door had the record and it sounded so exciting,” he says with the enthusiasm of a fan club member. “I remember listening to it so closely that I could tell right away that it was just an an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar and upright bass, but the rhythmic quality and atmosphere was so great.”

While still in his teens, Page was playing guitar at recording sessions--playing, often uncredited, with such bands as the Who and the Kinks. He joined the Yardbirds in 1966 and two years later put Led Zeppelin together.

“I had all these ideas from the Yardbirds days that I wanted to try,” Page says, recalling his early ambition and enthusiasm. “For one thing, I wanted to employ the acoustic with the electric in a way that had never been done.

“I remember when I got Robert down to discuss what we could do, I played him this traditional number I had heard on a Joan Baez album. I said, ‘This is what I want to do.’ And he looked confused. I said, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll do it in a different way. It’ll be fine.’ ”

John Kalodner, the Geffen Records executive who worked closest with Coverdale and Page during the months of recording, believes the new album is Page’s strongest work since Zeppelin’s landmark “Physical Graffiti” album in 1975.

“When people first heard they were working together, they figured it would be Whitesnake with Jimmy Page playing guitar . . . which was like (Jimmy’s role) in the Firm,” he says. “That wasn’t Jimmy Page. Coverdale/Page is Jimmy Page. When I first heard the demos, I was amazed.”

Rock radio programmers were equally enthralled. “Pride and Joy,” the first single from the album, became the most played record on rock radio the week it came out, according to both Billboard magazine and Radio & Records. Coverdale and Page are joined on most tracks of the album by drummer Denny Cramassi, bassist Jorge Casas and keyboardist Lester Mendez.

The next step: a tour, probably this summer.

“We’re in no rush,” Coverdale says. “We’ll take a little break, then start work on the tour, which will be a fusion of the Zeppelin, Whitesnake and the Coverdale/ Page album. We have to figure out which songs work together and (complete) the band.”

Page nods.

“As far as the Zeppelin ones go, it’ll be the ones David feels good about doing. I enjoy playing them all. It’s so (gratifying) that I was right (about Zeppelin). The music has stood the test of time. It is respected by your peers.

“Even during the punk movement (in the late ‘70s) when they took potshots at us and all the existing bands, I remember going to see the Damned, who I really enjoyed, and someone in the group took me aside and said, ‘Don’t take any notice about all this knocking . . . because I always play “Stairway” when I go home.’ ”