99. Led Zeppelin IV
I had this on vinyl. I’d heard that the drums on When the Levee Breaks had been sampled in hiphop so I’d put it on and have a go at scratching. I’d play those few seconds to friends and ignore the rest of the record.
Listening to it now, it’s interesting to consider what I was rejecting.
Because, and let’s be very clear, this is a magnificent album.
In 1995 two things got in the way of me embracing it.
Its unarguability
My main problem with Led Zeppelin IV was its obvious excellence.
Each member of this band has a claim to being one of the best to ever do the thing they’re doing, and here they are at their peaks. 2 sides, 8 songs. All monumental.
There was no identity-niche in liking it. It was like saying I liked friendship, or chips. Better to like something worse, so my opinion could hint at some deeper level of understanding and perception, unavailable to people who just like good, exciting songs played really well.
This is not a pure expression of a troubled individual’s soul, like Rock Bottom. It is more like a sports car than a work of art; a design classic, expertly put together to be the best possible version of this kind of thing.
That unarguability shuts out people like me who want to claw back some of artists’ power by having something original to say about their work. We like to promote ourselves to collaborators with our interesting takes and opinions. Led Zeppelin IV does not give a fuck about your opinion.
Instead, its excellence demands submission. Just listen, it says, and shut up.
Its expression of unselfconscious masculine energy
Unmasculine men are the biggest haters of masculinity, for if masculinity is valuable, then they are worthless.
As an undersized, shy boy, there were two ways I could take Led Zeppelin. I could either recognise them as a model or despise them.
Despising was easier.
They had no doubt. No irony. They sang about goblins and mountains. They refused to accept that they were in any way ridiculous, instead celebrating themselves and their interests.
They were confident and sexy. What was I supposed to do with that?
We, us sensitive white men, can deal with confidence when it’s from black American rappers. Then we can feel the excitement at a remove and disguise our thrill with phony socio-economic concern.
It’s harder when it’s some blokes from the Midlands. They offer a standing reproach to our weakness and confront us with the knowledge that we could be like that too, if only we were bold enough.
With every toss of his curls Robert Plant seemed to be saying, yes, I like mountains. Yes, I like massive drums. Yes I like singing about battles. What of it? Remind me why doubt and irony are better than that? Tell me why my approach is worse than wanting the world (i.e. girls) to like me for me (i.e. refusing to offer anything in return).
Remembering seeing them at the Royal Albert Hall in 1970, Germaine Greer wrote of Plant that,
The spring god Dionysus had arisen and was shaking his streaming red-gold mane on stage.
In these four figures spinning in their vortex of sound, male display was transcending itself. There really never was anything quite like it.
As a teenager it came down to a simple question: would I rather be sad, or awesome? I picked the wrong one.
Is it better than Rumours?
Yes. It is better than Rumours.
Standout track for the Spotify Playlist:
When the Levee Breaks, which somehow manages to deliver on its incredible opening.
Next up: Raw Power by Iggy and the Stooges
Originally published at 100greatestalbumsrevisited.home.blog on December 5, 2018.
