My context fantasy for this song goes thus.

I am sitting, feet dangling, in the open door of a box car in the middle of a mile-long train somewhere in the plains of America under dramatic skies.

It is morning and the train is on the move again. A sine wave of traction travels down the cars from a locomotive some half a mile ahead of me. A leviathan body at rest tends to stay at rest, and every joint and every connection between every carriage complains heavily as hundreds of tonnes of steel are stirred from slumber.

The metallic groaning stops and the music starts.

A low, resonant drone. (Jimmy Page using a violin bow on an acoustic guitar apparently.)

More low resonant drone. Full of portent. The sound of a leviathan body in slow motion.

Then a lighter synthesiser sound. An electronically generated, soprano whale song. The sound of the rising sun providing an optimistic counterpoint to the sound of the train. A hundred seconds of this high-low harmony. Then:

And if you feel that you can’t go on,
And your will’s sinkin’ low,
Just believe and you can’t go wrong.
In the light you will find the road.
You will find the road

It takes Robert Plant a full measured minute to deliver this first verse. If there were any doubt that this is a traveling song, these words quickly (slowly) dispel it. In the context fantasy I have them tattooed on my arm.

A traveling song? I feel like I’m selling it short. It is deeper than that. It has more texture and more dimensions.

In The Light is a song about journeys.

Physical journeys, box car journeys, are but one variety. The song is open to spiritual or metaphysical interpretation too. How could it be otherwise with a title like that? It may be a lesser known Led Zep track but it is much beloved by the cognoscenti. It means something different to each, but it means a lot to all.

Journeys of all varieties are a recurring theme for Led Zeppelin. Stairway To Heaven is the most obvious. But Physical Graffiti alone, the album from which In The Light is taken, contains several: Night Flight, Ten Years Gone, Kashmir, In My Time Of Dying all explore concepts of discovery, transcendence, redemption.

If the song itself is a journey, the end of the first verse signals a change of direction and pace. The lyrics are driven forward by the irresistible propulsive forces that are John Bonham’s strong and sophisticated drum beats, and the hypnotic, descending/ascending guitar riffs of Jimmy Page.

Oh, did you ever believe that I could leave you, standing out in the cold?
I know how it feels ‘cause I have slipped through to the very depths of my soul.
Baby, I just want to show you what a clear view it is from every bend in the road.

The verses of In The Light are as carefully orchestrated as the punch combinations of a professional boxer.

The left hand niggles away at you with nihilistic jabs.

Though the winds of change may blow around you
But that will always be so
When love is pain it can devour you

But it is just softening you up for the upper cut of optimism. A redemptive right-hand hay-maker.

I would share your load
Ooh, let me share, share your load

And that’s not just any old “Ooh” by the way. That’s a Robert Plant “Ooh”. Two parts gravel, one part hernia. He means it.

In The Light is to Led Zeppelin what He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother) is to The Hollies. Life is tough, the road is long, but we can get through it if we have each other. Put your arm round my shoulder and we shall shuffle, stumble, struggle from A to B, together.

(Be that on a train. In America.)

(Be that out of a sad place to some kind of solace.)

(Be that just from one end of a shitty day to the other.)

In The Light is also a one-song tasting menu for the whole Physical Graffiti album.

It showcases the subtlety and sophistication of rhythm and song structure, the variety of influences and styles, and the willingness to experiment that set Led Zeppelin apart from other rock bands.

It is long. Nearly nine minutes long. Physical Graffiti is a double album on which atmospheric songs are given ample time to breathe, the most famous of which is Kashmir.

And it has the homemade, one-take, semi-live feel that makes this, for me, the stand-out Led Zeppelin album.

Given the chance I could easily fill a whole edition of Desert Island discs with tracks from this one album, such is its diversity, its light and shade and the consistently high standard of songs, which is maintained across four sides of vinyl.

In The Light is not my favourite song on the album, but it does have the most interesting lyrics.

I have found, to my unpleasant surprise, that a lot of Led Zep lyrics don’t stand up to the kind of scrutiny required of A Longing Look. The whole of a Led Zeppelin song is greater than the sum of its parts and, viewed in isolation, the part that is the words is often the weakest link. Sometimes shallow. Often predictable. Occasionally just failing to make sense; shades of Noel Gallagher at his worst.

Down By The Seaside is a good example.

It is a wonderfully poignant summer song.

Pressing play is like loosening the torniquet and releasing a narcotic rush of heat-hazy nostalgia.

This is another form of journey. Led Zeppelin as transportation medium, taking you back in time to those childhood summers of the seventies, when the tarmac melted, when dog shit turned white in the heat, and when the holidays were so long that it didn’t feel extravagant to spend the day on the sofa watching every ball of a test match? It didn’t matter. Tomorrow would be sunny too.

Down By The Seaside encapsulates and epitomises and evokes all of that. It is the sound of a mallet on the posts of a windbreak, staking a claim on a portion of stoney beach. It is the cricket commentary of John Arlott.

But the lyrics can’t take credit for this.

Down by the seaside.
See the boats go sailin’
Can the people hear,
What the little fish are sayin’?

The lyrics are like a little fish out of water when you strip away the mood and the vibe. And those little fish ain’t sayin’ much. The words seem like a trivial pursuit and a bit of a first-base effort compared to the rest of the production.

Down By The Seaside is a visceral song. There is no compelling verbal narrative.

Its most moving lyrics are “Ahhh, oooh”, but these are more notes than words. They are not even listed as lyrics as far as I can tell. Robert Plant’s voice used as musical instrument between verses.

So, in this respect, In The Light is a more complete, more accomplished and yet still underrated song.

My parents have my copy of Physical Graffiti, in amongst all my vinyl, in their attic.

They are moving house soon and I shall get my records back.

I shall spend an afternoon lying on a sofa listening to Physical Graffiti.

That is such a pleasing prospect that I’m inclined to wish the days away between now and then, which is not something I do lightly.

I’ll wait for a sunny day, open the shutters, close the door and give it the undivided attention it deserves. I’ll allow myself to be transported. Open myself to reverie. Take a few journeys.

In the light.