Led Zeppelin's Led Zeppelin IV
Read Led Zeppelin's Led Zeppelin IV Online
Authors: Erik Davis
Praise for the series:
Passionate, obsessive, and smart—
Nylon
Religious tracts for the rock’n’roll faithful—
Boldtype
Each volume has a distinct, almost militantly personal take on a beloved long-player … the books that have resulted are like the albums themselves—filled with moments of shimmering beauty, forgivable flaws, and stubborn eccentricity—
Tracks Magazine
At their best, these books make rich, thought-provoking arguments for the song collections at hand—
The Philadelphia Inquirer
Reading about rock isn’t quite the same as listening to it, but this series comes pretty damn close—
Neon NYC
The sort of great idea you can’t believe hasn’t been done before—
Boston Phoenix
For reviews of individual titles in the series, please visit our website at
www.continuumbooks.com
Erik Davis
2007
The Continuum International Publishing Group Inc
80 Maiden Lane, New York, NY 10038
The Continuum International Publishing Group Ltd
The Tower Building, 11 York Road, London SE1 7NX
Copyright © 2005 by Erik Davis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Davis, Erik.
[Led Zeppelin IV] / Erik Davis.
p. cm. — (33 1/3)
Includes bibliographical references.
eISBN 978-1-4411-1422-8
1. Led Zeppelin (Musical group)
2. Led Zeppelin (Musical group). Led Zeppelin IV.
I. Title: Led Zeppelin [four symbols].
II. Title: Led Zeppelin four. III. Title: Led Zeppelin 4.
IV. Led Zeppelin (Musical group). Led Zeppelin IV.
V. Title. VI. Series.
ML421.L4D38 2005
782.42166′092′2—dc22
2005001104
Introduction:
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
II:
LET THE MUSIC BE YOUR MASTER
VI:
WHEN MOUNTAINS CRUMBLE TO THE SEA
Also available in this series:
Dusty in Memphis
by Warren Zanes
Forever Changes
by Andrew Hultkrans
Harvest
by Sam Inglis
The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society
by Andy Miller
Meat Is Murder
by Joe Pernice
The Piper at the Gates of Dawn
by John Cavanagh
Abba Gold
by Elisabeth Vincentelli
Electric Ladyland
by John Perry
Unknown Pleasures
by Chris Ott
Sign ‘O’ the Times
by Michaelangelo Matos
The Velvet Underground and Nico
by Joe Harvard
Let It Be
by Steve Matteo
Live at the Apollo
by Douglas Wolk
Aqualung
by Allan Moore
OK Computer
by Dai Griffiths
Let It Be
by Colin Meloy
Led Zeppelin IV
by Erik Davis
Armed Forces
by Franklin Bruno
Exile on Main Street
by Bill Janovitz
Grace
by Daphne Brooks
Murmur
by J. Niimi
Pet Sounds
by Jim Fusilli
Ramones
by Nicholas Rombes
Endtroducing…
by Eliot Wilder
Kick Out the Jams
by Don McLeese
Low
by Hugo Wilcken
I
n the Aeroplane Over the Sea
by Kim Cooper
Music from Big Pink
by John Niven
Paul’s Boutique
by Dan LeRoy
Doolittle
by Ben Sisario
There’s a Riot Goin’ On
by Miles Marshall Lewis
Stone Roses
by Alex Green
Bee Thousand
by Marc Woodworth
The Who Sell Out
by John Dougan
Highway 61 Revisited
by Mark Polizzotti
Loveless
by Mike McGonigal
The Notorious Byrd Brothers
by Ric Menck
Court and Spark
by Sean Nelson
69 Love Songs
by LD Beghtol
Songs in the Key of Life
by Zeth Lundy
Use Your Illusion I and II
by Eric Weisbard
Daydream Nation
by Matthew Stearns
Trout Mask Replica
by Kevin Courrier
Double Nickels on the Dime
by Michael T. Fournier
People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm
by Shawn Taylor
Aja
by Don Breithaupt
Rid of Me
by Kate Schatz
Achtung Baby
by Stephen Catanzarite
Forthcoming in this series:
Pretty Hate Machine
by Daphne Carr
Let’s Talk About Love
by Carl Wilson
and many more …
Where should this music be? i’ th’ air or th’ earth?
—
The Tempest,
Act 1, Scene 2
Mystery is not about darkness. It’s about intrigue. There’s a fine line in between, of course. Not even a fine line … it’s a gossamer thread.
—Robert Plant
:
OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
A few years ago, a British friend and I drove down to Cornwall to ring in the summer solstice at a small sylvan estate called Woodfield. Mark brought a raft of CDs—obscure garage, Japanese psychedelia, Finnish prog—but the rental car only had a tape deck. Driving along the M5 was boring, so when we hit a pit stop, I casually scanned the racks of overpriced cassettes. Nothing grabbed me until my eyes fell across an old codger lugging a load of wood along a country road—or rather the image of said codger, framed against a peeling wall. It was a copy of that literally nameless slab of luminous rune-rock we must stoop to dub
Led Zeppelin IV,
or
Four Symbols
, or
Zoso
. Though it was never my favorite Zep record—I alternate between
III
and
Physical Graffiti
—I
picked up the tape, figuring that ten quid wasn’t too terribly much for a nostalgic lark on a dull journey.
It was my first time in southwestern England, and Mark suggested that we get off the M5 and take a detour through Glastonbury, which lies in the shire, or whatever you call it, of Somerset. Glastonbury is Britain’s mystic Mecca, a densely layered faery cake of fantasy and lore that stretches back into the ages. And it is a weird place. Besides a ruined Gothic abbey and a reconstructed sacred well, the hamlet features a high hill known as the Tor: an odd natural feature, topped with a lonely tower, that looms over the surrounding landscape like some pagan barrow mound. Glastonbury was once surrounded by swamps, and ancient tales identified the place as the Isle of Avalon, the Celtic other-world where the wounded King Arthur was dragged to die. Other celebrity visitors are supposed to have included Joseph of Arimathea, said to have sailed from Jerusalem to Glastonbury with the Holy Grail in hand, there to found one of the first churches in Christendom. During the middle ages, Glastonbury’s monks made much of these tales, going so far as to dig up the bones of Arthur. Their marketing savvy made the abbey England’s holiest pilgrimage site until Henry VIII had the abbot drawn and quartered on the Tor. In the nineteenth century, the crumbling monastery and a ferrous spring nearby started attracting British occultists, and
today the Tor is routinely topped with New Agers, grotty hippies, and crop circle chasers measuring ley lines with curious electrical machines.