I remember the moment very well. It was Christmas Eve 1990. I was in a crowded hotel room at the Excalibur Hotel and Casino in glamorous Las Vegas, Nevada. That’s sounds a little racy, but it certainly wasn’t. I had just turned thirteen years old. The Westenskow clan had driven the Wagoneer to Vegas on their way to San Diego. Ty Detmer had just won the Heisman a few weeks earlier, BYU was just about to play Texas A&M in the Holiday Bowl and we had tickets. And oh man, did BYU get their butts kicked. That was brutal. But it was a fantastic trip and wonderful memory from my childhood that included me almost getting kicked out Disneyland for spitting on a bird from the Sky Ride and my mom smuggling a stiletto for me across the border from Tijuana. Darolynn, you’re a champ.
But this particular night, the five of us (my folks and my two brothers) were enjoying Christmas Eve in Vegas. It was late at night and the whole family was nestled into a single hotel room with two beds. My two brothers and I were entwined in the same queen sized bed, trying in vain to not touch each other. Let me tell you something. My little brother sweat like crazy when he slept. You could grow rice.
The TV was on even though no one was watching it. One of those music commercials came on where the song titles scroll up the screen while they play clips of the music. As I was about to fade away, I heard something that caused me to jerk up in bed, waking up my sweaty little brother. I heard the first few bars of the Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin. The commercial was for the Zeppelin Remasters. I had never heard them before, but those ten seconds grabbed my attention. Zeppelin would soon become my first true musical love. It was their music that began my quest for a full appreciation of Rock n Roll’s finest era (1965ish - 1974ish). To this day, if I am bored in a meeting I find myself doodling the four symbols from Zeppelin IV. My hand just works off autopilot.
Led Zeppelin is well known for their Satanic darkness (ooooo, scary!) and face melting power. But my favorite feature is their totally overlooked and completely unique acoustic stuff. Jimmy Page knows how to compose a song.
See, this is why you were the obvious choice for the phone call from Meredith: you know so much about so much. I sat and listened to each of these selections and you were exactly right about each of them. Very nice.
Outside of their pedigree, I've never been blown away by them. Most of the Jimmy Page stuff done with them, he redid better with Zeppelin. And as far as early Clapton goes, I'll take Cream any day of the week over The Yardbirds.
But I'm not completely familiar with them, so I could very well be wrong.
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See, this is why you were the obvious choice for the phone call from Meredith: you know so much about so much. I sat and listened to each of these selections and you were exactly right about each of them. Very nice.
Thoughts on The Yardbirds??
Outside of their pedigree, I've never been blown away by them. Most of the Jimmy Page stuff done with them, he redid better with Zeppelin. And as far as early Clapton goes, I'll take Cream any day of the week over The Yardbirds.
But I'm not completely familiar with them, so I could very well be wrong.
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