Stairways to a past heaven

Let’s BE clear about one thing: They were a great band. I thought so wholeheartedly in 10th grade. But then my musical taste broadened, grew more “sophisticated” or “adult.” They became a guilty pleasure, a reminder of my adolescence, the kind of band I was embarrassed I ever liked.

But man, Led Zeppelin could play. When they were on, they produced heavy metal with nuance, with roots in not just the blues but Middle Eastern music, flat-out cranking rave-ups and English folk rock. They were archetypal: Robert Plant, the quintessential front man; Jimmy Page, the guitar god; John Paul Jones, the solid bass foundation; John Bonham beating up his drums.

I saw Zeppelin once, in June 1977 at Madison Square Garden. I remember that they were sloppy, that “Stairway to Heaven” seemed to take forever, that Bonham played the drums with his elbows during the solo break on “Moby Dick.” By that point, they were deep into rock star excess: excessive drugs, excessive women, excessive solos, excessive life. Not so just a few years earlier, as a pair of 1973 YouTube concert clips -- “The Ocean” and “Celebration Day” -- show. To watch Page’s stage moves is to understand why every guy I knew -- myself included -- wanted to be him; he was that cool.

These days, I watch those videos not infrequently, as if I could imagine my way inside. Partly, I suppose, this is a form of reassurance, something to hold on to in an uncertain world. Sure, they could be sloppy, but they could also be chillingly, heart-stoppingly good. Check out “Tangerine,” filmed live at London’s Earl’s Court Theatre in 1975. It’s all there, all the cliched Zeppelin imagery: the double-necked guitar, the elaborate stage-wear, Plant’s coppery locks and open shirt. But when Page steps into his 12-string slide guitar solo and begins wailing, I get goose bumps every time.

-- David L. Ulin