Lessons from Becoming Led Zeppelin (documentary)
I won’t bore you with the amazing musical references. Or how down to earth the band are. Or how awesome there music is. But I will say there's more than being a fan available in the documentary.
Lessons from Becoming Led Zeppelin:
People will doubt you. You choose if you listen
Robert Plant’s family wanted an accountant so much, Plant ended up homeless as the young man and his family engaged in a battle of wills over his music. Plant lived out of a suitcase on the streets rather than give in. His childhood connection to bass player John Paul Jones is what saved him.
This is a lesson in understanding that one person’s expertise in their own life is worth valuing, that probabilities are only guides, and that other people’s self-doubt is not yours to carry.
Learn from previous mistakes
For Jimmy Page, the Yardbirds was a steep learning curve about musical politics and studio interference.
Page knew the music execs wouldn’t understand the album if they didn’t experience it. He also knew the music business and punters were disconnected, and the difference between what record producers know and what a project needs.
To protect Led Zeppelin from the same fate, he went to America with a completely produced debut album and manager Pat Grant in body guard mode.
Page wanted control. So, despite the mountain of extra work and learning he had to do, the only tasks he gave the industry were to listen and cut a big cheque.
Trading on associations works - and has limits
Page was smart and used the Yardbirds as a way to open up the touring circuit. But he was never going to settle for his band being a 2.0. Besides, he knew he wanted to create something that was distinct, not just be a splinter of someone else’s project.
Trading on who you know and even what they teach you will only get so far before you have to prove your value with the new style. But it doesn’t mean you have to forget your past too much if it opens doors for you.
Don’t externalise the validation
“Jimmy Page, around whom the Zeppelin revolves, is, admittedly, an extraordinarily proficient blues guitarist and explorer of his instrument’s electronic capabilities. Unfortunately, he is also a very limited producer and a writer of weak, unimaginative songs, and the Zeppelin album suffers from his having both produced it and written most of it (alone or in combination with his accomplices in the group).” John Mendelsohn, March 1969
The Rolling Stone review of Led Zeppelin I is vicious. It is savage for no reason, acidic, and nasty and domineering. Yes, it was the review style at the time to feed bands their gizzards. But it seems so utterly pointless to be this bitchy and brutal.
What a lesson, though! People who commit to your failure validate their superiority via overblown angst. Usually with no intention of providing useful information or feedback. This famous review is the living embodiment of that insecure overreach we see daily on the internet.
Collaborative joy has its own beauty
Sure, we love a good implosion in a rockumentary. It is how Some Kind of Monster saved Metallica. Or why Fleetwood Mac memes about disunity still raise a chuckle. But there is also something really lovely about hearing about some incredibly young lads from England who came together to be something amazing. And hearing how they speak about each other, especially their dearly departed drummer John Bonham, with dignity, love, and sweetness.
Hitting the drama button might sound like a better idea. Controversy shifts papers and eyeballs. But it is also nice to enjoy a story without the manufacturing and the tedium of hyperbole for a change.
We can still enjoy story - even with our internet drama addled brains!
image: a young curly haired blonde robert plant with micophone