Two occasions transpired this week that had me reaching for my old CDs at home and popping them in the car stereo. I haven’t been listening much to music lately ‘cuz I’ve been doing quite a lot of thinking on the half-hour drive to and from work. Got lots of projects in the office that with the coming Eid holidays, I might not even free myself for a day to enjoy it.
Well, back to the two dates on my busy week: one was the 27th death anniversary of John Lennon last Dec. 8 which made me play a lot of Beatles songs and the other was the reunion of Led Zepellin two days ago that got me blasting pure hard rock thru the Mazda6’s four loudspeakers which I felt were quite inadequate. Gotta add more decent ones and slot in a new amplifier most probably.

The Beatles were my favorite band while growing up. I picked up the guitar because of their music and I can’t remember how many times I played “I Saw Her Standing There” under the Indian mango tree in our old backyard. Can’t figure out also how many bottles of tempera color I used up while making imitation posters of them and the Yellow Submarine. They also influenced me to dabble in photography thru their album covers (“A Hard Day’s Night” is a personal favorite) and I read up all the books I could get my hands on that featured them. When John was shot, I stayed up all night listening to his albums while doing my project for school. I remember getting a perfect 1.0 grade for it – maybe his music inspired me.

So when I found myself in
Now Led Zepellin. They were my favorite metal group. I grew my hair long because of them (this was the ‘Seventies when bell-bottom pants and platform shoes were all the rage). I never did drugs but their music made me high. The members of my family, though, banned me from playing their albums on our Radiowealth turntable because they were so loud. My father, who was a Louis Armstrong and Glenn Miller enthusiast, couldn’t figure out why I was so enamored with “those decrepit musicians who made nothing but an awful noise”. Noise to him but music to my ears. I collected all their 8 albums by skipping lunch just so I could save enough dough to buy their vinyls in Raon. When John Bonham (the drummer) died and the group disbanded, I felt sad. To me they were irreplaceable. Fast forward to 25 years. When I heard about their one-off reunion concert a few months back, I made secret plans to attend. Fly off to Alas, it was not to be. The demand was overwhelming that tickets were sold by lottery over the Net. I registered at the website but no email came telling me that I won. Imagine 20 million fans fighting for 20,000 tickets. Unbelievable! Last night they showed snippets of the concert over CNN and I watched several clips on YouTube today. Amazing that the three blokes could still rock as though they were back where they left off 27 years ago. Robert Plant, getting on with age at 59, could still out-wail anybody this side of Janis Joplin while Jimmy Page with an all-white crown of hair on his head at 63 could still strut his stuff as an axe-wielder non-pareil and John Paul Jones picked up on the bass as though he had never put it down. The revelation was Jason Bonham, the late John Bonham’s son, who showed that he had what it takes to wear the mantle of a great drummer. It’s too much to hope against hope but perhaps, they might just go on tour next year. Then I’d make sure I would be on vacation to catch them wherever they might happen to play.
I have uploaded some photos to celebrate this personal quirkiness to pay homage to a bunch of artists who have made a great impact on me. Enjoy. And let the music play.

