#Washing Machine North American tour

[bikinikillarchives]

BIKINI KILL playing at the Hollywood Palladium, Hollywood, CA, November 10, 1995. opening beside The Amps for Sonic Youth on their Washing Machine North American Tour. photo by Bob Cantu. find more from this tour here.

[lizzygrantarchives]

Complex, August 2014

Lana Del Rey knows what you think about her. And she’s learned to live with it.

Satin gowns, fast cars, pills, and parties are the lifeblood of American glamour. Red carpets, unbridled opulence, and the kind of elegance that looks amazing in high-contrast black-and-white photographs are its marrow. Icons like Sinatra, the Kennedys, Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe appeared to be beacons of the good life, but behind the velvet rope was a darker, less-than-pristine reality: one rife with gossip, addiction, betrayal, and violence. In 2014, no artist embraces both that world’s intoxicating glow and frayed seams more acutely than Lana Del Rey.

On her 2012 breakthrough, Born to Die, Del Rey cast herself as a tragic pop star from a bygone era. Her music videos were epics: on Born to Die’s title track, she begins perched regally on a throne flanked by Bengal tigers, and ends with model Bradley Soileau carrying her bloody body from the fiery wreckage of a 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1; in “National Anthem,” she plays Jackie O to A$AP Rocky’s JFK. Where many of her contemporaries reveled in little-known subcultures and outsider artists, Del Rey went for icons. “Marilyn’s my mother/Elvis is my daddy/Jesus is my bestest friend,” she wrote in the introduction to her Anthony Mandler-directed short film Tropico, released last year. Del Rey’s 20th Century nostalgia (cloaked in beats provided by Emile Haynie, Kid Cudi’s original producer, and Kanye West-collaborator Jeff Bhasker, among others) proved immensely successful. Only four albums released in 2012 outsold Born to Die, which went platinum in the U.S. and charted in 11 countries. Del Rey sold more than 12 million singles globally, received two Grammy nods (Best Pop Vocal Album, for her EP Paradise; Best Song Written for Visual Media, for “Young and Beautiful”), and sold out a North American tour.

Her arrival also attracted visceral criticism. The New York Times review of Born to Die savaged her aesthetic and artistic “pose.” Pitchfork likened her debut to a “faked orgasm.” The media seemed fixated on anything but the album’s actual music: the supposedly incongruous early recording career under her real name, the life cycle of the internet hype machine that birthed her, or the aggressively ridiculed Saturday Night Live performance that made her a household name.

In 2012, Del Rey moved from Brooklyn to L.A., and one year later began work on the full-length follow-up to Born to Die. Released in June and produced by the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach, Ultraviolence eschews the home-run pop melodies of Born to Die for stripped-down piano intros and reverb-heavy guitar solos that give her soulful, low-register vocals space to shine. Lyrically, though, Del Rey’s stance remains uncompromising, with titles like “Money, Power, Glory” and “Fucked My Way Up to the Top” explicitly referencing her image, and taking aim at her myriad detractors. And some of her old critics have changed their tune. In its review, the New York Times called the criticisms levelled against Born to Die “inaccurate,” and lauded Del Rey’s “retro sophistication” and “guileless candor;” Pitchfork called her “a pop music original,” adding “there are not nearly enough of those around.” Despite modest radio play for the lead single “West Coast,” the album debuted No. 1 on Billboard, selling 182,000 copies in its first week (more than twice as many as Born to Die), a testament to her growing fanbase.

Sitting on the roof of Brooklyn’s Wythe Hotel for our interview, the 27-year-old “pop star” is dressed more like a suburban teenager, in light wash low-rise jeans and a tight, white, short-sleeved polo with lavender horizontal stripes. She has perfect posture and crosses her legs neatly. There’s a grace to the way she chain-smokes Parliaments and says “fuck” when she chips one of her pointed purple acrylic nails. If it’s all a show, well, it’s a good one. The cracks in the veneer of glamour humanize her and are one of the reasons she’s been able to mix self-serious writing about true love and death with provocative, pseudo-comical lines like the infamous “My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola.”

For the next 60 minutes, Del Rey muses about sexual gamesmanship in the music industry, Marilyn, Elvis, and Jesus, and the jagged reaction to her emergence on the pop scene. And words. Del Rey is a writer—not just the subject, but also the director of her own drama. The only mark of her wealth is a gaudy diamond-encrusted choker with a cross pendant hanging just above her sternum. Its sparkle evokes the cartoonish shine of costume jewelry, though it’s every bit as real as she has turned out to be.

When you’re writing, what comes first? Song titles, melodies, music?

Well it took me a long time to write the album as it’s listed. I was writing a lot since the last record came out, but for some reason, 70% of what I was writing didn’t feel right for me. So if I’m lucky enough to have an experience that really impacts me, it comes with a verse and a melody. From there I ad lib it. But they come together, the melody and the words come together. But it happens rarely for me.

What do you mean?

Actually having that happen, where it just sort of comes. I remember with “Carmen,” I was out really late and walking to the tempo of my own rhythm, and then I just started singing, “Carmen, Carmen doesn’t have a problem lying to herself cause her liquor’s top shelf.” And it was an easy cadence. The whole thing just came, and I think I was in a really good place then, so it was like things...it was really easy to channel.

What defines being in a good place?

Feeling really happy and just circumstantially like nothing’s going wrong, which becomes more difficult but that’s only my experience. I think a lot of people think the whole thing is really great. Making Brooklyn my home base for the last two and a half weeks has really helped me out, like I’ve actually started thinking conceptually that I have this addition, an addition to this record that could come really easily. That hasn't happened in a long time. Not since I wrote that Paradise addition to Born to Die, which I really loved.

Did you miss Brooklyn?

I missed Brooklyn. I missed the people.

How are the people here different?

They’re not different. I’m a little different. The vibe is the same. I met some guys from here last week I had never met before, and they were just really easygoing. All artist types—writing during the day and hanging out at bars at night. I miss that, I like that. I haven't really found that in California yet. I relocated there because my record got a little bit bigger, but I didn’t really find a music scene that I was a part of. There was something happening—there was kind of a reemerging Laurel Canyon sound. Jonathan Wilson, Father John Misty, and I really liked those guys. I felt like maybe I had something in common with them and I slipped right into that atmosphere really well.

Let’s talk Ultraviolence. The crop of the photo on the album cover is similar to the crop of your first two album covers.

I liked that, I wanted the continuity. I didn’t have that for the album cover at the time and I wanted it to be a continuation of the story. I did like the idea of it being in black and white so that there was, literally and figuratively more to be revealed. Even color-wise.

You wanted a continuation in aesthetic for this album cover, is that something that was important to you musically for Ultraviolence as well?

Yeah. Not being misleading in terms of your personal aesthetic, like your psyche coming through design-wise and musically—I like continuity.

You have this way of exacting your creative vision through so many different parts of your art—music videos, lyrics, tone and the melody, style of dress. Are those things that you plan ahead when you think about an album? Is it a concept that grows from one idea?

I don’t know. I was in college at Fordham when I was 18. I was living between Brooklyn and New Jersey and I was working with this guy who was more famous than anyone I had met at the time, this producer David Kahne. I had that record—you know they shelved it for two years—and I had all this time to think about what was really important to me and what I actually wanted to do if I had the opportunity to do what I wanted. I knew that I wanted to make life easy for myself in the way that I would always be living in a world I constructed and whatever felt true to me, regardless of however that appeared to other people. That definitely extended to song titles, whether I shot in black and white, hair color, things like that. It’s not really something that I planned ahead. I had a sense that I wanted the world I lived in to be really personalized to what I liked.

When I hear the words “ultra” and “violence,” I think about WorldStarHipHop. What does the phrase mean to you?

That’s funny. I feel connected to two emotions—aggression and softness. I like that luxe sound of the word “ultra” and the mean sound of the word “violence” together. I like that two worlds can live in one.

What’s the relationship between violence and love?

I like a physical love. I like a hands-on love. [Pauses.] How can I say this without getting into too much trouble? I like a tangible, passionate love. For me, if it isn’t physical, I’m not interested. Everything I do feels so organized: touring, playing a show night after night with a couple months in between to make a record, and being in charge of all of it—mixing, mastering. Sometimes I meet people with a lot of fire and energy. Mentally, maybe we’re not that similar. Telepathically, we’re not on that same wavelength. If there’s a physicality and a chemistry, that ends up winning for me every time because it’s the opposite of what I have every day.

Who’s the last person you met who made you feel like that?

Dan Auerbach, for better or for worse.

Do you think a “guilty pleasure” is a real thing?

Yes, but I don’t have many of them musically. I have tons of them in life.

Do tell.

Well, smoking is one of them. Sugar, coffee. I must have 13 cups a day. It’s a shame about the health consequences because a lot of great things happen over coffee and a cigarette. A lot of great songs were written.

Why did you choose to cover Nina Simone’s “The Other Woman” on Ultraviolence?

[Sings, “The other woman has time to manicure her nails, the other woman is perfect where her rival fails.”] I relate to being the person who people come to for “such a change from the old routine,” but not being the main thing. I had a long-term relationship for seven years with someone who was the head of a label and I felt like I was that change of routine. I was always waiting to become the person who his kids came home to, and it never happened. Obviously I had to seek other relationships, and I felt like that became a pattern. I was younger—24, 25 at the time. I had known what I wanted to do for a long time. I had been serious about music since high school, and I stopped drinking when I was 18. By 24, I was a pretty serious person. I thought I was a writer, and I was a singer. I thought I knew what I wanted my path to be. The people I was drawn to were already established, but they were probably looking for someone more on their level, age-wise. But I love the idea of wrapping up the record with a reference.

Many artists use obscure references to try to prove individuality and originality. Why do you go for icons like Marilyn, Elvis, and Jesus?

When I had put out only “Blue Jeans” and “Video Games,” I caught a lot of grief from journalists asking me why I was being so literal and obvious. I referenced things like Marilyn without trying to be accessible. I have a personal relationship with my perception of who Marilyn was. She was the kind of female who was really warm and giving. I like that type of girl who’s friendly and easy. I was always looking for girls like that as friends. I felt like I knew her in that way. And Jesus—I mean, being raised Catholic, it was just a way of life. Spirituality and religion were strong. I was in Catholic school until I was 13. Like a lot of other people, I think foundationally I was hymn inspired—musical hymns, not Him, Jesus. [Laughs.]

How did you meet Dan?

I met Dan at The Riviera strip club in Queens. He was with Tom Elmhirst, who’s an amazing mixer, and I was with Emile Haynie. Emile asked if I wanted to go hang out with them and I had a lot of fun for the first time in a long time. Dan had been mixing Ray Lamontagne’s record with Tom down at Electric Lady studios. And he left by the time I was there—Lee Foster gave me Electric Lady all by myself for three weeks.

Wow.

It was incredible. By the end of the three weeks I thought I was done. Then I met Dan and he said, “Why don’t we just go to Nashville and see what happens?” I went because it sounded like a good time. I didn’t want the party to end. I flew there with Lee and we rented a farm for six weeks. We drove to Dan’s studio on 8th Street every day and I loved it. He was what I was looking for, because he was a facilitator. He said “yes” a lot. If I was like, “I only want to sing this through once,” that was normal to him. It was natural that someone would like what they got on the first try. He was cool like that. [Lights a Parliament with her plastic purple lighter.]

You’ve been smoking cigarettes on stage a lot.

Dude, I have to. I can’t get through it.

Is it an addiction?

Yeah. I’m a chain-smoker.

How long have you been smoking?

Since I was 17. It’s crazy. That’s why I try to play mostly outdoor festivals. [Laughs.] Because 45 minutes into the set, when you’ve still got 45 more minutes to go, you need to smoke.

That’s a long time to be standing in front of people.

It’s a long time. If people come and see you at a show for 80 minutes they literally know everything about you. With 5,000 people coming, they film you so the people in the back can see you on the screens. There isn’t a moment when you can turn around and gather yourself. Everything you feel, everything you’re emoting, is just there. I have toured so much more than I thought I would; I thought I would be more of a studio singer. But I toured Europe for two years.

There was a time after Paradise came out when you said you weren’t sure that you were going to make any more music. What changed?

A year after Born to Die was released, a lot of people asked me what the new record would sound like and when it was going to come out. I said, “I don’t know if there will be another record.” I didn’t have songs that I felt were good or personal enough. Dan Auerbach changed things for me, and I have no idea why. He was just interested in me. That made me feel like maybe what I was doing was interesting. He gave me some confidence back. He listened to songs that were folk songs at the time, and he thought that maybe, with some revision, they could be more dynamic. I started to see a bigger picture. For me, if I don’t have a concept it’s not worth writing a whole album. I don’t like it if there’s no story.

There are a few different ways to take your song “Fucked My Way Up to the Top.” Is it about people not wanting to give you credit for your success? Or is it about fucking people to get to the top?

It’s commentary, like, “I know what you think of me,” and I’m alluding to that. You know, I have slept with a lot of guys in the industry, but none of them helped me get my record deals. Which is annoying.

What’s the worst relationship advice you’ve received?

That love doesn’t come easily and that relationships are supposed to be a struggle. Everything else is so hard; hopefully love is the one thing that is actually fun.

That reminds me of an Eartha Kitt interview clip you once posted. Asked about love and compromise, she says, “What is there to compromise? I fall in love with myself and I want someone to share it with me.”

She was so right-on with that. It’s nice to have a fiery relationship that enhances everything you do, that doesn’t feel like part of it is not what you want.

What is the most valuable thing that you’ve destroyed in life?

In terms of money?

It doesn’t have to be, but that works.

I don’t know. I don’t think money has had an influence on things I’ve sabotaged. But there are things.

What’s something you’ve destroyed that’s actually valuable to you?

Probably the relationship I’ve been in for the last three years. Definitely demolished that through tons of depression and insecurity. Now it’s just an untenable relationship, impossible because of my emotional instability.

Sometimes people do their best writing when fucked up.

And I am a little fucked up. This whole experience has fucked me up.

Fucked you up how?

I don’t know. It’s been hard. I was in a good place when I wrote my first record because I wrote it for fun, but then, I felt like everything that went with the record was heavy. I was also trying to deal with stuff with my family. The world was heavy for a couple years. That’s why I liked Dan: He was casual. It didn’t have to be so serious.

Speaking of non-serious, what restaurant has the best red sauce in the world?

That’s a good question. I go to the same place in Los Angeles all the time, Ago on Melrose. I order the same thing every time, penne alla vodka.

What were you listening to when you were writing?

I love jazz. I love Chet Baker’s documentary Let’s Get Lost, which influenced my video for “West Coast,” which Bruce Weber shot. I love Nina Simone and Billie Holiday like everybody else. I have a ’70s playlist that I listen to daily. A lot of Bob Seger, who I love. He’s probably the main person I listen to, and also the Eagles and Chris Isaak, Dennis Wilson and Brian Wilson. I like Echo and the Bunnymen, “Killing Moon”—just like single tracks.

Do you have a guilty pleasure song on that playlist?

No, they’re all pretty good.

You experienced a level of scrutiny that was very personal. How has that affected you?

The good thing about catching so much grief from critics is that you literally do not fucking care. It put me in a mind frame where I expect things not to go right, because they generally don’t. But it’s not a pessimistic place. The music is always good, in my opinion. That’s what I expect now from my career, that the music is going to be great and the reaction’s going to be fucked up.

Why do you think they reacted so vehemently to what you were making?

If they thought it was supposed to be categorized as pop music, that was the first mistake. It wasn’t made to be popular. It was more of a psychological music endeavor. I wasn’t out to make fun, verse-chorus-verse-chorus songs. I was unraveling my history through music. People were confused as to why I would stand on stage and just sing and not perform. To me, performing is just channeling and emoting through inflection, cadence, phrasing. That’s pretty different from what’s popular, so I think maybe they thought it shouldn’t be popular. What do you think?

It felt like you were being critiqued not as an artist or even a pop musician, but as a celebutante. You presented such a comprehensive, seemingly calculated project—the videos, the styling, the references, etc.—that people felt compelled to pick it apart.

It’s funny, because my process was natural. I remember making “Video Games,” and I did my makeup as I did it every day. I put my hair up like I did. I was wearing a dress and filming myself. I didn’t think that the juxtaposition with this found footage that I had taken from people’s honeymoons on Super 8 would get the reaction it did. The reaction to everything six years prior to that, from the day when YouTube was actually born, was a non-reaction. People just didn’t care.

Do you feel vindicated?

I feel a sense of relief, but I don’t feel vindicated.

How come?

I don’t feel like things have gone well. It’s not the way I would have chosen them to go. So it’s not like I feel everything’s turned around and it’s great.

You’ve got quite a few gold records, and a handful of platinum ones.

Yeah, but I still didn’t find that community of people I was looking for, like the way Bob Dylan found his friends, or the respect of being a writer. Because that gold and platinum stuff, it doesn’t mean as much if you’re walking down the street and you can hear people saying things about you. That doesn’t even out.

Originally published on complex.com with the headline Against the Grain.

Outtakes

Lana Del Rey’s third album, Honeymoon, is out today, just 15 months after her sophomore release, Ultraviolence, solidified her place in iconic American history. This past year she has proven her staying power both as one of the most beloved pop singers in the world,and one of its most candid speakers. When she talks to the press, an activity that is becoming increasingly rare, she seems to inevitably ignite conversation. Notable examples this past year include her comments about dying young and being disinterested in feminism—both of which Kim Gordon responded to with some choice words in her memoir—as well as meeting inventor/mogul/future-enthusiast Elon Musk.

When I interviewed her for the cover of Complex’s August/September 2014 Issue, we touched on the media. But Lana was less concerned with the chatter, and more concerned with finding a group of collaborators who respect her artistry and perspective as a writer, “like the way Bob Dylan found his friends.” From the outside, it looks like she is closer than she’s ever been, working with her sister, photographer Chuck Grant, for the Honeymoon promo art, teaming up with “Shades of Cool” director Jake Nava for the literally explosive “High by the Beach” music video, contributing to the debut solo album of close friend Emile Haynie, who executive produced Born to Die, and finding new artistic synergies with artists like the Weeknd.

The more we learn about Lana, the more complete a portrait of a living, breathing human being we are able to piece together. In celebration of the release of her third album, we revisit some of the unpublished quotes from our interview that took place May 12, 2014, on the roof of Brooklyn’s Wythe Hotel. Read them below.

On Doing “Ride” With Rick Rubin

I was writing that Paradise edition, and originally was writing it as a follow-up record, but nobody wanted to release something eight months later. It ended up being a re-release-slash-second edition, and I loved this demo I did with Justin Parker, who I wrote a lot of things with like “Video Games” and “Born to Die,” “National Anthem,” and Ferdy Unger-Hamilton at EMI hated the song. So I think him and Rick had been talking and Rick was like, “What’s going on with Lana? Can she come over, I hear she’s in L.A.” I think I had been over to say “Hi” to him first. Just to say “​hi.” We took a walk in Santa Monica—he takes the same walking route every morning. Then a few weeks later I brought him “Ride,” and he really liked it. Working with him was good, I was still in my old car, my old Mercedes that was barely making it down that hour-and-a-half drive down to Shangri-La Studios in Malibu, and it was really good. He has this sprawling lawn with all these bunnies and palm trees. He was very relaxed. It was good.

On Being a Fan of Rufus Wainwright

I love him. I had this terrible experience with Rufus Wainwright actually. I was like, a long time fan of him and his sister. It’s actually why I signed with my initial label, 5 Points Records, because the boss there, David, was great friends with Loudon, their father. I thought that was amazing. Anyways, I had been waiting to meet him for a long time, and I was singing at the Montreux Jazz Festival, I think two years ago. I had a really bad show. I couldn’t hear anything on stage because my in-ears stopped working. I was having a moment backstage and Rufus came to say “Hi,” and I was trying to compliment him in between stifled sobs. I think he thought I was insane.

On Being a Fan of Martha Wainwright

She’s one of the few females I totally relate to. I love the way she uses her voice in a way that kind of explains things. The words aren’t the only things that tell a story, it’s her inflections too. That’s why I really like Cat Power. She’s my biggest female inspiration in a way. I signed with my first manager because he was managing Martha six years ago, Peter Leak, and I always hoped I’d meet her. Hers was one of the few shows I saw at the Bowery Ballroom.

On the Most Important Person She Ever Shared a Cigarette With

Probably my manager, who is still my manager, Ben Mawson, over the last four years. He doesn’t smoke anymore, but he used to smoke more than me and drink 12 beers a day. I met him, he told me to just come to London and I did. I just went and met him. I think they were at Shoreditch House, so we went on the roof and had a cigarette. He felt like I was really worried about everything, and he told me that he had a plan and that everything was going to go OK and not to worry. He was very aggressive, and he was such a believer. So probably with Ben, I guess.

On Making Art Vs. Satisfying the Major Label Machine

I came in in a unique position in that “Video Games” had so many views, and that was the reason why Jimmy Iovine at Interscope and Ferdy Unger-Hamilton at Polydor had called me on that day and wanted to revisit the record and hear it again.

So I got signed on great terms because the discussions we were having were that it was always going to be my way. I liked coming from this DIY place where if I had a single that they really felt like they wanted to put money behind or promote—I liked knowing it was an option that I could make my own video at home for it, like I did with “Video Games.” Eventually I tired of that, graduated to working with other people. But in that way I was in a really good place after the record was done with its cycle.

I think the label was half-and-half on this record [Ultraviolence] because there were a lot of jazz undertones and West Coast references. I think they were happy that I was happy with it and that I made it. I don’t think they felt like there were singles that could work at radio. And I kind of felt that, because I have such a good relationship with Jimmy and Ferdy. I’ve been working, “working” [makes air quotes], singing, for years. So the people I’m closest with are like my product manager and the video commissioner, because they’re really good girls. The A&R guys—Larry Jackson and John, if I go out at night I probably go out with them. We’re pretty flexible with each other, but it always come down to differences. For example, the bonus tracks on this record I didn’t feel like had any relation to the atmosphere of the record itself. I think iTunes was like, “You would have trouble promoting a record if it didn’t have a deluxe edition,” so, there’s stuff like that.

On the Worst Relationship Advice She Ever Received

That love doesn’t come easily and that relationships are supposed to be a struggle. I think that everything else is so hard that hopefully love is the one thing that actually is the fun part of it. [I] have had some very practical, down-to-earth advice about love that I choose not to follow. It’s the same with money too. You’re supposed to work your whole life, work really hard for everything you get. I think maybe a better strategy is to just fall in love with what you do and hope that whatever you make from that monetarily is enough to have an easy life.

Originally published on complex.com on September 18, 2015, with the headline Lana Del Rey Talks Idolizing Cat Power, Looking Up to the Wainwrights, and Ignoring Bad Relationship Advice.

[hiddenfindsdesignerboutique]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: American Needle For Pink Floyd 1968 World Tour Concert Graphic Rock Band Shirt L.

[quotesuniteposts]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Kiss Hot In The Shade Tour T shirt.

[childrenofthenightt]

only the black rose (chapter 2)

pairing: jimmy page x layla porter (oc)

warnings: mature language (a given), fluff, and a (possibly) pretentious description of the rain song

words: 4k

summary: in the blink of an eye, it’s 1975 and layla’s suddenly joining led zeppelin for their north american tour. throughout the chaos, the band take a liking to her, she builds friendships with the boys, and love blossoms. but all good things must come to an end.

author’s note: not beta’d. this story does follow a playlist of mine, because i put too much thought into things. i hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

playlist

chapter one

----------

Tearing down the hallway, cheeks still flaming red from the encounter with Jimmy just minutes ago, Layla nearly runs into Peter, with one John Paul Jones trailing behind him. She rushes past quickly, head down, darting into the washroom that Robert, thankfully, had the mind to point out during the tour of the facility, ignoring their worried glances and aborted questions all the while. The young woman bolts the door shut and rushes to the sink, splashing her face with the frigid water flowing from the tap.

“Shit! This can’t be happening!” She whispers, concern etched on her face at the thought of all that has happened that day. Her jumbled thoughts are soon interrupted by a knock at the door. From behind it, a familiar voice sounds.

“Layla, it’s Peter! Jonesy is here too. Can we come in?”

Silently, Layla unlocks the door, and returns to her vigil at the sink. The two men enter, giving her worried looks that go unseen. Unexpectedly, it’s Jonesy that breaks the silence that has cultivated between the trio.

“Layla, are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“...”

“Well, I think what Jonesy means is that... You’ve had a stressful day, dear, and you looked anxious when you ran in here. Also, Robert walked by just a few minutes ago, smiling ear-to-ear. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Peter, he didn’t do anything wrong…” Layla sighs, debating whether she should tell them the whole truth. Remembering the key she had discovered earlier, she pulls it out, and reads the address carved onto the bronze surface. “I’m fine, it’s just… Everything that happened today, it just sunk in? I don’t want to bother you all more than I have already, but I don’t exactly have a car, and I should really be getting home.”

“Of course. I’m sorry we kept you this long, Layla. Though, before you go,” Peter says, fishing a notepad and a ballpoint pen out of his pocket, scribbling a number down onto the paper and ripping it out of the small book. “Here. This is my personal number. I’d like it if you called every so often. As much as they would hate to admit it, these boys have taken a bit of a shining to you.”

“Actually, Peter, could I drive Layla?” Jonesy cut in, smiling lightly at the woman. “There’s something I’d like to talk to her about. Only if you’re okay with that, Layla.”

“Of course, Jonesy. I’d like that.” Layla smiles at Jonesy, and the three of them exit the washroom, Jonesy leading Layla to his car parked out back. Once inside, Jonesy starts up the radio, an Elvis song crackling through on low volume. The man pulls the car out onto the street, and starts the drive over to Layla’s house. Lost in her thoughts regarding what she might find once she gets to her destination, Layla almost doesn't register Jonesy’s deep voice calling her name.

“Sorry, Jonesy, what were you going to say?”

“I know you’re not from here.”

“God, again with the accent? Fine! I’m Canadian, and after high school I moved to—”

“No,” Jonesy sighs, steeling himself for the conversation. “I mean… I know you’re not from this time. You aren’t supposed to be here. In 1975.”

“John… How…”

The man in question, sensing that this wasn’t a conversation to be had while driving, pulls over, and turns to the dazed woman beside him. Her mouth is hanging wide open, lips moving as though she was trying to form words, though nothing comes out.

“Look…”

“What the fuck?”

“I know you’re shocked, Layla. I was too, the first time I witnessed it,” Jonesy puts a gentle hand on Layla’s arm, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. “I know you’re not from now, for lack of a better term, because I have seen this kind of thing before.”

“Jonesy, I don’t…”

“When I was a session man, working with plenty of different bands, I saw a lot of weird things. The weirdest, however, was when, right in the middle of a session, the band’s guitarist disappeared.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Never halting his comforting ministrations, Jonesy continues, sympathy dripping from his voice. “He was in the producer’s booth, listening to a playback while we were fooling around with our instruments. We heard a huge crash, and saw sparks, so we all rushed over to check on him.”

“Then what happened?”

“We couldn’t find him,” Jonesy sighed, eyebrows furrowing. “He was gone for about a day or two, but we were all incredibly worried, so when we heard that he was found, we rushed over to see him. The only thing he said about what had happened to him, was that he ‘figured it out’.”

“That’s all he said?”

“He did say later that he wanted to write a song about time travel,” Jonesy laughs softly, Layla joining in. “Not sure if it ever came to fruition though.”

Layla sobers up now, glancing at her companion helplessly. What if she can’t go home, to her own time? What if she can’t ‘figure it out’? Almost as though he could see the cogs turning in Layla’s brain, Jonesy moves his hand from her arm to rest on her knee, a grounding weight for the anxious woman.

“Layla, I’ll help you figure it out. We’ll get you back home. We can figure it out, just like he did. It will be okay.”

The woman in question can only nod wordlessly, struck by the devotion of her new friend. Jonesy, deeming her to be okay, starts up the car again. A couple minutes pass as Elvis is traded in for Buddy Holly, until Jonesy finally breaks the relative silence.

“So… You and Jimmy?”

“Nothing’s going on with Jimmy.”

“Right,” Jonesy laughs, shaking his head, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you didn’t look at him like he hung the stars the first time you saw him, and he certainly didn’t rush past me in the hallway earlier, face the colour of a tomato, Robert’s laugh echoing off the walls behind him.”

“How did you…What?”

“Layla, I’m very observant. Just… Be careful with him, okay? You have to go back sometime, and I know him. He’ll take it hard, and… Things happen, I know they do, but please… Just try and be careful.”

“... John Paul Jones… Are you giving me the shovel talk?”

Laughter fills the small car as they drive through streets that become increasingly familiar. The pair finally pull up to their destination, and Layla is shocked to find that she’s staring back at what looks to be her flat, from her own time. With a hug and sincere words of gratitude, Layla climbs the stairs to the front door, and pushes the key into the lock. Holding her breath, she pushes the door open. Everything is exactly the way it was the day before. The empty coffee mug by the sink remained, and the mail on the dining table hadn’t moved an inch. She rushes upstairs, to find that the turntable was still there, open, though there was no record inside. There were scorch marks on the carpet. Layla throws out a hand, pressing it to the turntable, expecting sparks once more.

Nothing happens.

----------

“Hello?”

“Is… Is this Peter Grant?”

“Layla! I was beginning to think you’d never call,” A chuckle sounds from the other end of the line, tinny through the aged receiver. “How have you been, dear? The boys have been asking about you.”

“Oh? What are they saying?”

“My Goodness, it never stops. I’m surprised they’re not right up against me listening in. It’s always ‘Peter, when is Layla coming back? Peter, Layla could get a job here, as a roadie! Peter, we need our little dove, she’s our good luck charm!’”

“Well… I can guess who the last one came from. Peter, would it be okay if I came down again today? I really did have a good time, despite the circumstances.”

“Of course, of course! You’re welcome anytime, my dear. Here, I’ll send one of the boys out to fetch you. Lord knows they need it, they’re bouncing off the walls with energy.”

Another bout of laughter crackles across the line, and Layla pictures the kind, comforting smile almost permanently etched onto Peter’s face. “Wonderful! Thanks again, Peter. I’ll see you soon!”

“Goodbye, Layla. See you soon.”

“Oh! Peter, before you hang up! I gave the clothes you lent me a wash, and I’ll return them right away!”

Silence, only for a second, seeps into the conversation, until a scoff from the older man cuts it like a knife. “My dear, keep them. Jimmy won’t miss them. In fact, I remember hearing him say to Bonzo earlier, that they ‘look better on Layla anyways.’ Well, I should let you go. We’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead, and it is not hard to imagine the grin on the man’s face before he hung up. Regardless of if he was telling the truth about what Jimmy had said, the young woman couldn’t help but swoon a little, shades of red dancing across her cheeks. She looks at the neatly folded pile of clothes beside her, and, pressing her nose to the fresh fabric of the sweater, she puts it on. Even with the magic of the washing machine, it still held a foreign scent; one of cigarette smoke, pine and citrus, which harmonized with the subtle smell of the detergent she had used. It was a scent that, on paper, sounded like an odd combination, yet Layla could hardly get enough of it. She had smelled it just the other day, in the studio, when Jimmy was above her, jade eyes boring into hers, curls a midnight halo framing his porcelain face.

The honking of a car horn shatters her concentration, and as she looks out to the street for the source of the disturbance, she sees the grinning face of John Bonham, who is hanging halfway out of the open window, waving frantically.

“Layla! Get in, you slowpoke!”

“God, Bonzo, you’re gonna wake up the whole country if you keep that up!”

“As if that wasn’t the goal, birdie.”

“Birdie? Seriously? My God, you guys are just asking to get hit.”

“By you? Birdie, you couldn’t even reach my face if I was sitting down.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d go for the face first,” A smile of feigned innocence, blooms on Layla’s face. “Question, Bonzo. How much do you value your kneecaps?”

“Ah!” Bonzo exclaims, laughing loud, carefree. “Smart girl, smart girl. Maybe we’ll call you whenever we have arguments.”

“Jonesy’s short enough, just call him. I reckon he could do some damage from down there.”

Peals of laughter ring through the car, just audible under the din of the music that Bonzo insisted on blaring as the newfound friends cruise to the studio. Finally arriving at their destination, the drummer sends a glance over to his companion, taking into account the sweater she is wearing. He lets out a sudden snort, and hides his laughter in his hand. Layla, noticing this odd display shoots him a concerned look.

“You okay, Bonham?”

“You know, birdie, there are other ways to become Ms. Page...”

“...Get out.”

“Layla, you realize this is my car, right?” Layla gives him a heated glare, and as though he could physically see the daggers she was aiming at him, Bonzo exits the car in a huff, mumbling about how “it was just a joke…”

Allowing herself a private smirk, Layla exits the car, hurrying to catch up with her friend, short legs working a mile a minute. Reaching the man, she slings a companionable arm around his waist, and immediately feels an arm wrap around her shoulders in response. The two friends enter the building, giggling anew.

“Layla!” A chorus of voices echoed off the marble floors of the lobby, accompanied by a stampede of approaching footsteps, and the woman in question was swiftly bombarded with a chorus of arms around her, squeezing tightly.

“Really feeling the love here, guys, but I can’t breathe…” The arms relinquish their hold immediately, and Layla is met with the ecstatic faces of her new friends.

“Nice sweater, love.” Jimmy pipes up, sharing a subtle smile with the woman.

“Jim, don’t be surprised if you never get that sweater back. She’s attached now!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think she looks stunning in it.” Gone is the bumbling, shy man from before, replaced by confidence and charm. Layla smiles, enjoying this new side of the raven-haired guitarist.

“...Anyways… Little dove, we were just about to rehearse, would you like to sit in?” Robert hooks his arm through hers, an innocent wink tossed haphazardly over his shoulder at the guitarist, who only smirks and shakes his head.

“I would love to, blondie, but enlighten me real fast,” Layla says, giggling at the golden-haired man. “What exactly are you rehearsing for?”  

“I’m glad you asked, Layla,” Jimmy says, swiftly taking her other arm, uncharacteristically playful. “We have a very important tour of North America coming up, and it would be a shame if we came in unprepared, wouldn't it?”

“That’s really cool!” Layla exclaims, exhilaration clear on her face.

“We’ve got some practice shows in Belgium and the Netherlands, and then we’ll be off to the Promised Land.”

“‘The Promised Land’? You guys really need to get out more.”

This is met by raucous laughter by the band, much to the confusion of the woman.

“Oh, sweet, sweet, naive Layla…”

“Remember what I said in the car, Bonzo? About the hitting?” This is accompanied by a friendly smirk, typical of the woman.

“You have so much to learn…” Jimmy continues mischievously, green eyes glinting, earning a strong glare.

“Little dove has such attitude, she’s basically one of us,” Robert sighs dreamily, no doubt playing it up for Layla, earning a chuckle from her in response.

“Okay, now that that’s all over and done with,” Jonesy’s steely blue-gray eyes survey the group, stern as they lock onto the eyes of the band. “Let’s actually play for her. Once in a lifetime opportunity here, Layla.”

“Glad stardom hasn't gone to your head, guys. Truly the most humble group I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Laughter accompanies the group as they make their way to the studio, intent on blowing Layla’s mind.

----------

“How about a little Rain Song, boys?” Jimmy says, tuning up the acoustic guitar in his hands, as though it was delicate and precious.

“You just wanna impress Layla, don’t you, Pagey?” Jonesy smirks, teasing the guitarist. Jimmy flushes, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, the shy man from before making his brief return.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Jonesy,” Jimmy shoots back, trying for nonchalance, the slight waver in his dulcet voice giving him away. “Does ‘Rain Song’ work for everyone, or are we picking something different?”

A smattering of “works for me,” sounds throughout the studio, and the boys launch right in. Soft sounds of falling rain pour out of the guitar, and Robert’s golden voice floats out like streams of sunlight. Jonesy’s piano trickles through, a mist amongst the downfall, Bonzo’s soft drum beats claps of thunder. The music picks up, becomes harder, like wind in the face of a torrential storm, and then all is still, Robert crooning all the while. Layla is mesmerized, unable to look away at the boys, seemingly glowing with the influence of the music they play. A fragile silence follows the last tinkling of raindrops, one that the occupants of the room are afraid to break.

“... So? How was it?” Bonzo is the first to speak, an apprehensive grin gracing his face.

“It was… You just…”

“Never thought we’d make you speechless, little dove.”

“Ignoring that. It was truly incredible, guys.” Layla’s face lights up in an excited smile, chestnut eyes sparkling as though reflected in a clear pool. The young woman locks eyes with Jimmy then, who sends her a shy smile her way, arresting her where she stands. Layla looks away quickly, cheeks warm.

“Jonesy, your keyboard playing was incredible! It sounded like tiny raindrops! Bonzo, your drumming was just… It was so good! It sounded like thunder, and broke through the rest of the instruments perfectly. Robert, as much as I truly hate to say this…”

“Hey!”

“You were beyond words. You owned those lyrics, and made them almost come alive. I truly felt them. Jimmy… Your guitar. It drove the whole storm, and paired with Jonesy’s little droplets... It was great.  I can’t say enough about this whole performance.”

“I knew we kept her around for a reason.” Bonzo snorts, closing the distance first to hug the young woman, Jonesy following with a smile painted on his aristocratic features.

“Little dove, has anyone ever told you that you should be a music critic?”

“A few times. Now get over here, blondie. You too, Page.”

The embrace is interrupted by the click of the studio door being opened, revealing the hulking figure of the usually soft-natured Peter Grant. Taking in the scene before him, he chuckles heartily, his smile never slipping. Walking over to the group, he claps his hands together in delight.

“I’m glad you’re all getting on. Boys, that was another wonderful performance. If you perform like that on Saturday? God, we’ll rule the world!”

“We’ll need our good luck charm, though.” Jimmy gestures towards Layla, winking at her conspiratorially.

“Peter, is there any way we can bring Layla over?”

“I’m sure we can work something out, Percy. Layla, would you like to join us?”

“Well… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if I could manage, with the finances of it all. I don’t exactly have a job at the moment...” Layla says sheepishly, eyes cast downwards in embarrassment. Peter scoffs and shakes his head in response, placing his large hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

“My dear, you wouldn’t have to pay even one pence,” Pete explains, kind eyes reassuring as they gaze at the woman in front of him. “Though, if you are worried about something like that, we do always need help in the wings, if you’re interested?”

“Peter, are you sure? I couldn’t just—”

“Layla, for the love of God, just say yes?” Jonesy mutters, huffing out a laugh at the display of stubbornness in front of him.

“I mean, if you’re sure… I’d love to.”

“Wonderful! Now, we leave on Friday. We’ll pick you up at your flat, just make sure you’re packed, dear. We’re happy to have you on board.”

----------

As the calendar pinned to the wall is steadily painted in royal blue ink, Layla’s excitement grows. One more day, and she’ll be on the road, living it up. January 10th couldn't come any faster, it seemed to Layla.

The shrill ringing of the phone interrupts her musings, and as Layla hurries to answer, a smile grows on her face at the thought of the days ahead. As much as she tries to deny it, Layla felt quite fond of the boys already.

“Hey, little dove, I’m leaving right away to pick you up. I’ll explain what’s going on in the car. You don’t need to bring anything. See you in 15.”

“Robert? What—”

“Oh, and Layla?” Smugness dripping from his voice, Layla can already see the cheshire grin the man is sporting, “Wear something nice.”

“Robert—”

Click.

Shock freezing her in place, Layla shakes her head, a featherlight smile gracing her lips. Flying up the stairs to her bedroom, Layla picks out a pair of merlot bell bottoms, paired with a cropped bell-sleeved shirt, a snowy white in colour. Rings scattered across her hands, Layla looks in the mirror, applying some light makeup. Seeing a car pull up to her house, a sleek, rich red against the stormy gray of the curb, she rushed downstairs, waving at the driver. Stepping into the vehicle, she turns to her friend, who smirks, looking her up and down.

“I said to dress nice… This is gonna kill the man.” Robert scoffs, mutters under his breath, tugging playfully on a perfect brown ringlet of Layla’s hair.

“Robert, what’s going on? Why couldn't you explain over the phone?”

“Well, I couldn’t let a certain someone overhear my master plan, could I?” This is met with a blank look from the passenger of the vehicle, and, glancing over quickly, Robert cackles.

“Listen up, little dove,” Robert says, whispering mischievously, starting up the car and pulling away from the flat, “It’s Jimmy’s birthday, and the lot of us were planning something. It would be a shame if we didn’t get his favourite girl in on the secret too!”

“Favourite girl?”

“Oh come on, Layla. Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious!” Robert scoffs, lazily throwing his head to the side to look at his companion, golden locks flying every which way, “The man can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s a whole subject of conversation when you’re not around. I can tell by the colour of your cheeks that you might feel the same…”

“If I say yes, will you drop it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Should have known… Anyways, what’s the plan here?” Robert winks at her in response, ocean eyes glinting in the warm afternoon sun.

“So, you know quite a bit about guitars, hey?”

“A fair amount? I used to play. What does that have to do with Jimmy’s birthday, though?”

“Well,” Robert starts, grin growing at the confusion of his friend, “We’re gonna throw a little get-together at the studio, but I was thinking, his favourite acoustic keeps breaking, and he hasn’t had much time to fix it yet. This is where you come in, little dove.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense here, blondie.”

“You’re gonna pick out a new acoustic for him.”

“Robert, I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about the costs,” Robert exclaims, shaking his head vehemently, “I got it all covered. Perks of being in a famous band, I guess. Jim’s not the best at words, you’ve experienced this firsthand. He speaks with his music, and by doing this, you’re speaking his language.”

“I get that, but what… What if he doesn’t like the guitar I pick out?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Robert laughs out, stealing a glance at his fidgeting companion. “Little dove, you could give him a trash bag and he’d still cherish it. He’ll love whatever you pick out for him.”

Robert parks the car, and turns towards his friend, taking a small hand in his, a comforting smile on his tan face. Giving the hand a squeeze, Layla steps out of the car, and, arm in arm with Robert, they walk into the store.

Strolling through the aisles, Layla was struck at the sheer beauty of the instruments in front of her. Shades of sepia and seafoam green blend into starry blues as she walks on. A body of rich mahogany catches Layla’s eye then, and she knows immediately. This is the one. The pickguard is a deep maroon with swirls of midnight black, thin rings of pristine white surrounding the sound hole. It’s perfect. Layla can’t help but stare, until she feels a tap on her shoulder, accompanied by a light peal of laughter.

“I take it, that's the one, Layla?”

Turning around, caught, Layla’s cheeks warm, and, smiling ever-so-slightly, she nods. Turning to the guitar once more, she trails her fingers across the smooth polished wood of the guitar.

“It’s perfect…”

“He’s gonna love it, just you wait.”

Layla plucks it from it’s resting spot on the wall, and, cradling it with the care of a new mother, she walks with Robert to the front of the store to pay. After a couple of autographs, and a few weird looks, the pair return to the car, finally setting their sights on the studio. Guitar case resting safely in her lap, Layla allows herself a private smile, picturing the face of the guitarist, emerald eyes filled with elation, upon seeing the gift.

“Why are your cheeks so red, little dove? Are you feeling okay?”

----------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis (let me know if you want to be added!)

[musicblogwales]

Q&A: Gwenifer Raymond Pre-Tour Interview 

Music Blog Wales are really honoured to have spoken exclusively with Welsh virtuoso guitar player Gwenifer Raymond before she embark’s out on her brand new UK tour, huge thanks to Gwenifer for agreeing to chat with us and all the best with the upcoming tour dates.

Raymond began playing guitar at the age of eight shortly after having been first exposed to punk and grunge. After years of playing around the Welsh valleys in various punk outfits she began listening more to pre-war blues musicians as well as Appalachian folk players, eventually leading into the guitar players of the American Primitive genre.  

She released her sophomore LP ‘Strange Lights Over Garth Mountain’ at the end of 2020 to rapturous response. Her debut ‘You Never Were Much Of A Dancer’ emerged  on Tompkins Square to the same response in 2018. She has found herself equally embraced by fans of old-west and equally, by left field/experimental audiences. Appearances throughout the UK and the EU as well as the US marks her out as one to watch.  

Q: What part of Wales do you hail from and how has it geographically had an effect on your music?

Gwenifer: I'm originally from a village called Taff’s Well, so just north of Cardiff and at the tip of the Rhondda at the foot of the Garth mountain. I do think landscape can shape music quite a lot, and especially instrumental music. I think my own compositions have something of a folk horror element to them,which seems to me to reflect the overgrown, dark and witchy woods that I recall exploring quite a bit when I was growing up. I think perhaps that lends it somewhat more of the enclosed and gothic mood, as opposed to a more open and pastoral scene that you often hear in guitar songs.

Q: Your going on a UK tour this week, are you ready?

Gwenifer: Yeah I think so. It's been a while since playing a lot of shows on the trot, but I'm excited to be getting back to it. I find when I play the same set over a string of nights the music tends to find itself and evolve a little, so it's often where songs really find their feet. Given that I've not really toured this album properly, and a number of those tracks had never been gigged prior to recording it, it'll be really interesting to hear what happens to them. Q: How will you select songs for your live set?

Gwenifer: I usually choose my sets pretty selfishly along the lines of what I want to play. Invariably it'll be mostly the newest stuff with a few older tracks thrown in. Of course I try to pick tracks that will give the set as a whole a natural and engaging pace and dynamic. The big caveat to all of  this of course is tuning: I play in a number of different guitar tunings, and nothing stops a set in its tracks more than spending five minutes tuning your guitar - of course this is unavoidable, but I do try to group tunes together in order to minimise it. Q: Your latest Album is 'Strange Lights......' where and how was it recorded?

Gwenifer: This was recorded in isolation in my basement flat in central Brighton. I was booked in to record in a studio, but of course COVID put a stop to that- so instead I dropped the money I would have spent on the studio on some new mic’s and recorded it myself. I actually did it over a week's worth of evenings (whilst working my day job remotely from home during the day),recording a song or two per night. I spent the following week mixing, so it all came together pretty quickly in the end. Q: Do you have any tips and tricks for the avid home recording artist?

Gwenifer: Learn your neighbours' laundry schedule so you can avoid the rumbling of their washing machine. Beyond that, yeah just find the quietest and most comfortable spot you can in your home, invest in as decent a microphone as you can reasonably afford and just spend time playing with it; placement etc. Also, obviously most people don't have a fully audio-treated room to record in, but you can do a lot by hanging duvets etc. around you in order to absorb reflections. It's just practice really, training your ears to recognise what sounds good,what doesn't and what minor adjustments can be made to turn one into the other.

Q: In your own words how would you describe the music you produce?

Gwenifer: I guess it's just solo compositional guitar, with a gothic folk edge and twinges of early American blues, heavily informed by the alternating thumb technique predominantly used by early folk and Delta blues guitarist players. Q: Do you have any new music in the pipeline?

Gwenifer: I always do, but I'm a very slow writer. I live with a piece a long time before I consider it 'done'. Right now that's as true as ever and I'm working on some stuff which I may even start slipping into sets on upcoming tours. Q: What is your biggest inspiration for writing and staying creatively focused?

Gwenifer: It's listening to other music I suppose - any other sort of music really.To be honest I don't listen to a lot of solo guitar these days so I tend to be inspired by music completely unlike my own. I'm not sure if I'm creatively 'focused' exactly. Perhaps more creatively unfocused but ever so often a song falls out. I don't think there's a solid or consistent methodology that can be relied on for this sort of thing, it's whatever the little devil on your shoulder convinces you to do.

Just about anybody with an interest in the new school of American primitive will tell you that Welsh guitarist Gwenifer Raymond is one of its most promising proponents. “I’ve been blown away by Gwenifer Raymond,” says Jeff Conklin. 

Josh Rosenthal agrees: “She’s just a fascinating person—a great example of somebody taking the raw elements [of the style] and making them more personal.” - BandCamp Daily  

"Its intricate folk melody is Welsh and Celtic in style but American Old West in practice. The rhythmic patterns mimic the swift dynamics of a fiddle with a country twang. Western music was originally influenced by traditional folk music from England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland; Raymond’s seamless crossover grows from these historically intersecting roots." - Stereogum   

UK TOUR DATES 

August 27 - Ara Deg Festival – Bangor 

September 03 – Larmer Tree Festival – Dorset 

September 04 – Maverick Festival – Suffolk 

September 07 – Cathedral Quarter Arts Festival – Belfast 

September 11 – Down At The Abbey Festival – Reading 

September 18 – The Castle Hotel – Manchester 

September 19 – The Continental – Preston 

September 20 – The Musician – Leicester 

September 21 – The Crescent – York 

September 22 – Brudenell Social Club – Leeds 

September 23 – The Old Cinema Launderette – Durham 

September 24 – Café #9 – Sheffield 

October 29 – Toy Museum – Brighton 

November 12 – King’s Place London Jazz Festival 

November 13 – The Wight Bear – Bournemouth 

November 14 – MAST – Southampton   

Watch: Sometimes There's Blood 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfLJvXNeY-M 

Bleeding Finger Blues 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pAm0uqkXAI  

Full web & label links Weblinks*  

https://www.facebook.com/gweniferraymondmusic/

https://gweniferraymond.com/

[csykora]

After ‘84, Igor felt the pieces were beginning to fall off the Red Machine. 

He hated being called a robot as much as he hated being called a soldier. He didn’t know what the world wanted the Green Unit to do on the ice or off it, how they had to behave, before someone would believe they had feelings. On the worst days they were too tired and numb to feel anything else.  

When he’d met Bobby Clarke, who he thought looked like a hockey angel with a blond halo and no teeth, Bobby commented about the Soviet presence in Afghanistan. Igor didn’t know how to say that he’d definitely never been allowed to go to Afghanistan, and under the uniform he didn’t deserve to be a soldier, for good or bad. The national team was a tool of the Soviet government: at the same time it was a comfort for ordinary people in cold little apartments in mining towns where the players grew up and also a prop in the illusions that kept everything how it was. 

The illusion went skin deep: every time they left Russia, Igor was issued a snappy winter coat and brand-name Western clothes, so no one would think the Soviets looked poor.

[A black and white photo of the Green Unit posing, smiling except for Igor, in matching windbreakers with saddle shoulders and bold stripes. This was a hot look, about 10 years before the Soviet Union Costuming Department thought it was a hot look]

Underneath the coat or the beautiful red sweater, everything was a mess. At one point, at a tournament in Canada, a Canadian player would hit Igor from behind. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except the Soviet management hadn’t provided enough hockey pads. Igor was wearing a partial set he’d borrowed from a high school team that played in the host arena earlier that day. (Across Europe and Canada I bet there are grown men, still hockey fans now, who have no idea they once owned game-worn gear from the world’s top scorers. To Igor’s fans those pieces might be worth as much as he ever earned in his CSKA career.) He would play the rest of that tournament with broken ribs.

The only outsider he’d met who seemed to understand, however briefly, was their friend Vanya. Asked what it was like playing against those Russian robots, Wayne said, 

“Robots don’t hurt when they lose.”

By June 1985, Slava was recovering from that knee injury that had sidelined him for half the last season. He and his little brother Tolya, now a CSKA rookie, drove back for the start of training. Their car was hit, and Tolya was killed. Slava thought about leaving that season, but their parents told him to keep going, and just try to live for two people.

In November, the players at Arkhangel heard a rumor: someone had written an article, in a Soviet paper, that criticized the hockey program. Anything that wasn’t awe was criticism. Someone got their hands on a copy, and Igor, Vova, Sergei, and Slava huddled around their usual table that evening, hiding each other as they read it in turns. Igor reread it twice. He’d read Canadian and American papers that dragged the Soviet system, but never something like this, that got it--almost--right. It didn’t have all the details to understand the illusion--how they trained, how Tikhonov acted behind Arkhangel’s walls--but it guessed some.

Glasnost was beginning, a long rustling cracking thaw opening new streams of information and communication like Igor had dreamed. The Canucks drafted him that year, and then Vova. The Devils had dibsed Slava and Lyosha a few years before, and the Flames wanted Sergei. There was a place for them, waiting, if they could ever get to the NHL. But there wouldn’t be any thaw in Arkhangel as long as Tikhonov ruled it.

The ’85 World Championships were held in Prague, and ’86 in Moscow. Igor played both, and nothing else. For two years, no one saw him outside the Soviet Union. 

In December of ‘85, CSKA was supposed to tour North America. Igor was dressed and ready. Then he heard his passport, which he had used a hundred times before, had run into problems. Coach told him not to worry, but to stay behind in Russia and--how convenient--keep training for the championships in Moscow. Igor woke up at three in the morning to watch the games he was supposed to be playing. He learned that Canadian journalists were asking about him: apparently, he had tonsillitis. Igor wasn’t entirely sure where his tonsils were. 

Two months later CSKA played in Sweden. Strange, how his tonsils still weren’t better, and his passport was still missing. Two nights before they were set to leave Tikhonov called him into the office, in front of the team, and told him so. But the next evening Tretiak, now a more senior officer, came out to visit the barracks. He hugged Igor and promised him he would do what he could to get the passport by the time they were supposed to leave the next morning. Igor went to bed hoping. At 4:30 AM the coaches woke him just to tell him the passport wasn’t there yet, so the team really would be leaving without him. 

The third time it happened, he was told to go back to the passport office to file everything all over again--maybe he had fucked up his passport. He didn’t bother. Taking away travel had been one thing. But doing it in front of the team, in front of the Green Unit, so that he knew that they knew that he had let them down somehow, broke his heart. 

He was still allowed to play inside the Soviet Union. As long as he was with CSKA, the other Greens treated him the same as always. If they had known how bad things were going to get, Igor thought they would have done more sooner, but he knew that they didn’t understand what was happening. In between games, he spent his days in office buildings, being grilled about suspicious activities like listening to rock music, calling his mom too often, or kissing Canadians. 

“I was at fault all around. That I gladly gave interviews to journalists. That I liked the NHL...that I like rock music. That the living standard there impressed me. All this was raked up into a pile. I was the enemy. Because, you see, if I liked the American way of life, then in general I was an American by heart. All of this they said about me.

By nature, I am clearly a Russian. I do not like everything in America. It cannot be that somewhere is as in a fairytale, and somewhere else is total darkness.

Particularly, it seemed, my [friendliness] offended the preservers of government secrets….I also knew a little English. Therefore I had the possibility to rub elbows with whomever I might come in contact: hockey players, journalists and even immigrants. And, they assumed, to each of them I could give important information--everyone getting an equal share, no doubt, in order to be fair.”

He couldn’t talk to his friends from other countries, or his Russian friends either when they traveled without him. On the street outside between the rink and the party offices, none of his former fans would speak to him, except to ask or tell him their opinion if he really was a traitor.

He was wanted everywhere but home. Obviously, no other country believed that a 25 year-old athlete who had been the best in the world six months before had been brought down by tonsillitis multiple times in a row. There’s only so many tonsils a person can have. Obviously, every other country thought Igor must want to defect, the one thing he did not want and couldn’t convince anyone of. So each host on the international hockey circuit was bouncing on their toes, first Canada, then Sweden and so on, thinking maybe the Soviet Union would slip up and let him come to their tournament, he'd defect, and then they’d get to keep him. Obviously, the Soviets noticed that, and squeezed tighter.

Each time the team left on tour, he was told to spend his time alone training harder and hope. If he was good enough, maybe he’d make the next tournament. His body, always a battle-ground with Coach Tikhonov, became a hostage situation. The more Tikhonov told him to train, the less he ate. Eventually he was eating mostly fruit, and restricting his water intake. 

He stopped pretending to defer to anyone.  He used to be the sober one between his hot-head wingers, and now he egged every fight on. Sometimes he faked an American accent, calling Coach “Tikhonoff” the way American broadcasters had at the '81 Olympics.

One day at the rink he bumped into figure skater Lena Batanova, who “knew nothing about hockey and could not have cared less.” She had been through worse training than he had growing up, only to win two World Championships, and then be slighted from a third. They understood each other without having to say anything.

[Igor washing dishes in their Moscow apartment, turning to glance at Lena pressing up him.]

That summer he stayed up late talking with his friends, and realized he wanted to marry Lena. He asked her the next morning, and she said yes. Behind Igor’s back, Slava, Vova, Sergei, and Lyosha went to Coach Tikhonov’s office, and told him that they would play every other day of the year if they had to, but they would be going to Igor’s wedding. Coach wouldn’t allow the three days for a traditional Russian wedding, but he had to give Igor one.

Waking up the morning after the wedding, Igor checked the mail and found a summons to appear before the Central Committee of the Communist Party. His friends, who I imagine lying hungover on his and Lena’s new couch and floor, rushed for their unused books to help him study up on Communist doctrine, in case he got quizzed. This is presumably when Lena woke up, realized she’d married a whole line of hockey players for their one communal brain cell, and rolled back over. Igor reported the next morning, probably with flashcards Vova had made for him in his pocket.

The Party officials congratulated him on getting married and gave him the wedding gift they were sure no one else would have gotten: his passport. We have to guess the logic here, if there was one. It’s possible the Party thought he wouldn’t risk his wife, or that two years had just been enough to realize the team wasn’t working without him. 

But he was allowed to go to Canada for the Calgary Cup before the end of ‘86, and everyone had questions about his two years of tonsillitis. Igor, for the first time in his life, didn’t talk. But that just left the hockey world to gossip. Two months later it was announced he’d be in Quebec City for another tournament, and right before they arrived a Quebec newspaper printed a version of the night out with Gretzky--with quotes, they claimed, from Wayne. This time the tournament organizers called someone from every team up for a pregame presser. I imagine Igor shrugging at his KGB handlers and sliding away to the stage: nothing could stop him talking now.

Except the Canadian journalists. They wanted to interview Team Canada first. Igor stewed, and then looked up to see an oncoming Wayne. Someone had asked him about the alleged quotes in the article, which Igor had snagged a copy of to read the second they let him loose in Canada. Apparently Wayne hadn’t. 

“‘Believe me, Igor,’” Igor remembers Wayne blurting out. “‘I didn’t say what was printed in the paper. I’ll tell them it didn’t happen! But what is your position now?’”

“‘Do not worry,” Igor promised him. “‘Now, everything is okay.’”

“Oh, awesome,” (I’m assuming again) Wayne said. “So do you want to come over later and hang out in my mom’s basement?!”

“If the KGB pulls a gun, then call me.” --Wayne Gretzky

Weirdly, I’ve never seen this inspirational quote cross-stitched on someone’s wall. 

The next Canada Cup was held in August ‘87 in Hamilton, Ontario, which is like, basically next door to Wayne’s parents’ house. So the afternoon before the first game, Wayne sent his dad Walter to the hotel where the Soviet team was staying. Walter asked in Ukrainian if he could chat with Igor, who had to come down to the hotel lobby to meet him, since visitors were absolutely not allowed to wander up to players’ rooms. Walter invited his son’s friend over for dinner. Igor cut eyes at the KGB agent in the corner, and said he had to go upstairs and ask Coach. Tikhonov said no before Igor started talking.

Igor came back downstairs and apologized to Walter, who thought hard for a minute. He told Igor to ask what if the whole Green Unit went to Wayne’s house for team bonding? Coach Tikhonov considered, and said no, and Igor went back to Walter. 

Walter hitched up his suspenders, and announced to the KGB that he would talk go to Coach Tikhonov now.

He told Tikhonov he would be honored if Coach came to dinner at his house that evening, and if Coach felt like it, he might bring the boys over too. Tikhonov said he’d love to. 

Tikhonov, Igor, Vova, Sergei, Slava, Lyosha, and a KGB operative spent a delightful half hour packed in a car together driving to the Gretzkys' house, where Walter and Phyllis were throwing a cookout. Walter and some of his local buddies had barbecue and corn on the cob on the grill, and Phyllis had quizzed her son about his Moscow trip before throwing up her hands in despair and making a big batch of her mother’s Polish dumplings and sausage.

Nothing makes me happier than the image of Wayne Gretzky, beaming from ear to ear, handing famously fussy little Igor Larionov a piece of barbecued corn on the cob. Igor had to explain that yes, they had corn in Russia, but they ate it on a plate and not like squirrels. Walter offered him a beer, and Igor looked to Coach Tikhonov before saying no. Tikhonov allowed the players to have a soda.

Wayne started asking him how everything had been since the last time they hung out, and didn’t get why his friend wouldn’t talk to him at first. Igor might answer one question, and then act like he didn’t understand. Sergei and Vova really didn’t speak English, and kept elbowing Igor to explain what was going on and why Wayne was smiling at them like that, but Igor was still pretending he only spoke Russian and hesitated to translate for them. Finally Wayne realized Igor was clamming up every time Tikhonov got within earshot.

Wayne went to Walter to change the game plan. Walter would use his Ukrainian to ask Coach Tikhonov about his many amazing accomplishments, while Wayne told the whole party he wanted to show the other boys his medals, which were all down in the basement. Unfortunately the Gretzky family’s basement was very small, and housed Wayne’s many, many medals, so only two people could possibly fit down there at a time: one Gretzky, and one Russian. Tikhonov thought about it, decided he didn’t care about someone else’s medals, and gave the okay.

 Just in case, Wayne deputized his dad’s buddy Charlie, who did not speak Russian or anything like it but was somebody’s dad from suburban Ontario, to chat up the KGB agent.

So Wayne began to escort the Green Unit, one by one, down to his family’s basement. At the bottom of the stairs, he handed them a beer. The two of them chugged their beers together, trying not to take suspiciously long or laugh too loud, and then ran back up to change out for the next boy.

Nothing happened that night. It didn’t change anything, except that Tikhonov never found out. The Greens had been able to get one over on him, because they didn’t have to do it alone.

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[northforkhacienda]

Hassel Free Vacation in Mysterious Rocky Mountain

Are you exhausted with you daily routine? Are you looking for some quite place to crash in? Then you should not think twice before planning a vacation in the National Park, Rocky Mountain of Western Colorado. These are some of the quietest and isolated place still remain hidden and untouched by the polluted and nosy environment of modern cities. Rocky Mountain is your best bet to revel and free yourself from the trauma of this fast moving world. You will instantaneously feel the peace and inner satisfaction when the breeze from the Rocky Mountains will touch you from your forehead to toe. North Fork offers you a secluded Rocky Mountain family vacation rental services at an affordable cost and more over a quiet place so that you could recollect yourself.  Rocky Mountain is also home to the native Ute, Cheyenne, Arapaho, Comanche people. Therefor while trekking and hiking you will find some of the historic settlement of these indigenous people which will mesmerize you. You will feel enchanted while walking into this hidden, mysterious and amazing North American highest mountain range.

North Fork Luxury Villa of Hotchkiss in Western Colorado is a perfect place to spend family vacation. This is an isolated and remote place where you will experience a mystique calmness and noise free surrounding. The luxury villa of North Fork offers all kind of comfort and luxury in this remotest place on planet earth. Some of the amenities offer by the villa includes 4 beautifully designed bedrooms with 2 bathrooms. Hair dryer, washing machine, wood stove, a fire place, coffee maker, books, TV, and outdoor grill are some of the complimentary services provided by the villa.  Therefore, North Fork Valley luxury Villa Rentals is a perfect place to stay and it’s very cheap to stay here. Winery tour is another attraction of the place, where you can mingle with the locals and enjoy the taste of wine. Some other leisure activities you can enjoy here are Sightseeing, bird watching, horseback ride, sledding, camping, tracking, and scenic drive.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LIZ LEARNS TO SWIM

June 11, 1950

“Liz Learns To Swim” is episode #92 of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on June 11, 1950 on the CBS Radio Network. 

Synopsis ~ George makes a bargain with Liz: If she'll learn to swim, they can go to the beach with the Atterburys for their vacation.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George's boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper.  The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

REGULAR CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born as Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father's garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.”  From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, "Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968. Gale Gordon (Rudy Atterbury) had worked with Lucille Ball on “The Wonder Show” on radio in 1938. One of the front-runners to play Fred Mertz on “I Love Lucy,” he eventually played Alvin Littlefield, owner of the Tropicana, during two episodes in 1952. After playing a Judge in an episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in 1958, he would re-team with Lucy for all of her subsequent series’: as Theodore J. Mooney in ”The Lucy Show”; as Harrison Otis Carter in “Here’s Lucy”; and as Curtis McGibbon on "Life with Lucy.” Gordon died in 1995 at the age of 89.

Ruth Perrott (Katie, the Maid) was also later seen on “I Love Lucy.” She first played Mrs. Pomerantz (above right), a member of the surprise investigating committee for the Society Matrons League in “Pioneer Women” (ILL S1;E25), as one of the member of the Wednesday Afternoon Fine Arts League in “Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress” (ILL S3;E3), and also played a nurse when “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). She died in 1996 at the age of 96.

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) is not in this episode, but is mentioned by Iris. 

GUEST CAST

Hans Conried (Benjamin Wood, Liz’s Swim Instructor) first co-starred with Lucille Ball in The Big Street (1942). He then appeared on “I Love Lucy” as used furniture man Dan Jenkins in “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8) and later that same season as Percy Livermore in “Lucy Hires an English Tutor” (ILL S2;E13) – both in 1952. The following year he began an association with Disney by voicing Captain Hook in Peter Pan. On “The Lucy Show” he played Professor Gitterman in “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (TLS S1;E19) and in “Lucy Plays Cleopatra” (TLS S2;E1). He was probably best known as Uncle Tonoose on “Make Room for Daddy” starring Danny Thomas, which was filmed on the Desilu lot. He joined Thomas on a season 6 episode of “Here’s Lucy” in 1973. He died in 1982 at age 64.

This begins Conried’s history of playing Lucy’s instructors. Percy Livermore taught her grammar; Professor Gitterman taught her singing and acting. 

Herb Vigran (Filling Station Attendant) made his "I Love Lucy” debut as Jule, Ricky’s music agent, in “The Saxophone” (ILL S2;E2) in 1952 and immediately returned in “The Anniversary Present” (ILL S2;E3) to play the same character. He will also play Mrs. Trumbull’s nephew Joe, the washing machine repairman, in “Never Do Business With Friends” (ILL S2;E31) and Al Sparks, the publicist who turns Lucy and Ethel into Martians, in “Lucy is Envious” (ILL S3;E23). Vigran also played the man who sold Lucy and Desi The Long, Long Trailer (1953) and returned to work for Lucy in six episodes of "The Lucy Show” between 1963 and 1966. He died in 1986.

EPISODE TRIVIA

The day before this episode aired, Lucy and Desi were in New York City on their ‘vaudeville tour’ designed to try-out material for “I Love Lucy” and prove to the networks that they had good chemistry together. There they appeared on “The United Cerebral Palsy Telethon” hosted by Milton Berle and aired on NBC. 

The script for “Liz Learns To Swim” was basically a remake of “Vacation Time” (aka “A Trailer Vacation To Goosegrease Lake” broadcast on April 29, 1949.  

Unlike many episodes of “My Favorite Husband,” “Liz Learns To Swim” has no corollary on “I Love Lucy,” although certain situations and dialogue will be familiar to viewers. 

EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on the Coopers tonight, summertime is fast approaching and Liz has roused her self from spring fever long enough to go on a shopping spree for some beach clothes.”

As the episode begins, Liz is showing Katie the Maid what she has bought for her summer vacation, including a skimpy swimsuit.  

LIZ: “I want to look good for George. He’s going to see a lot of me this summer.” KATIE: “He’s not the only one!”  

In “Off To Florida” (ILL S6;E6) Ricky thinks Lucy’s new skimpy new swimsuit is for Little Ricky!

RICKY: “Hey, look, Ricky!  Mommy bought you a bathing suit.” LUCY: “That's mine!” RICKY: “Yours?!” LUCY: “Relax. It stretches when it's on.” RICKY: “See that it does!”

Lucy also buys a swimsuit that Ricky feels is too skimpy when shopping for their California trip in “Getting Ready” (ILL S4;E11). 

In looking over their daily mail, we learn that the Cooper’s live at 321 Bundy Drive. Liz gets something from Weeping Willow Ranch, where they spent last year’s summer vacation. It is not a place Liz is anxious to revisit.

LIZ: “One week there and you understand why the willows are weeping.” 

In “Vacation Time” from 1949 (the episode upon which this one is based) the resort was named Goosegrease Lake.

Lucy Carmichael visits a dude ranch called Tumbleweed Inn during a 1966 episode of “The Lucy Show.”

Liz wants to go to the beach with the Atterbury’s while George insists on going to the dude ranch. George agrees to go to the beach if Liz will first learn to swim. 

Adventure-Loving Lucy Ricardo swam in the chilly Med before pedaling to Nice in “Lucy’s Bicycle Trip” (ILL S5;E24). Fred calls her “the poor man’s Florence Chadwick” an American swimmer known for long-distance, open water swimming and the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions, setting a record each time.  

Liz’s neighbor, Mr. Wood (Hans Conried), teaches her how to swim - without ever leaving the living room!  George is doubtful Liz can learn swimming without getting wet, so they agree to a test at the Country Club pool the next day. That night, Liz ‘swims in her sleep’ - nearly drowning!  

At the pool next day, Iris (Bea Benadaret) brings Liz some water wings to wear under her swimsuit and fool George. To inflate them, Iris drags Liz to a Filling Station to use their air pump. But the water wings burst, just like Iris’s plan. Iris thinks of a loophole: Liz never promised George she wouldn’t use help - so Iris darts home for one of Rudolph’s life jackets.   

Life jackets and Lucy Carter’s inability to swim were integral to “Lucy Rides The Rapids” (HL S2;E4), filmed on location on the Colorado River. 

Liz puts on the life jacket and dives into the pool. George agrees to take her to the beach - even though Liz failed to inflate Rudolph’s life jacket. She swam without help!  As soon as she realizes it, however....HELP!!!

HELP!!!  Lucy pretends not to be able to swim so that Ricky can pretend to save her, all to get the attention of gossip columnist Hedda Hopper in “The Hedda Hopper Story” (ILL S4;E21). 

Lucy and Anthony Newley tread water in the Thames River in “Lucy in London” (1966).

Lucy and Desi relaxing in their pool at home in the 1940s. 

[roswellroamer]

Day 16. Rangiora to Punakaiki via Lewis Pass. 350 km.

Woke up to a steady light rain. The forecast was better on the west (rainy) side and we were for the third time in three days going to cross the mountains again. Another failed attempt to use our American credit cards to pay for fuel at automated fuel island at Pak'n Save (like a Costco). After success the first week at these fully automated fuel stations, the last week has usually been met with failure. One attendant said that because the US cards require a signature (for who knows what ridiculous reason as that offers zero additional security) that they are declined at these automated pay stations. The tap and pay system is on the rise and most of my cards have the RFID chip to do so, has a name here. They call it Paywave. At least half the machines I've used at cafes and gas stations and motels are Paywave enabled. When tapping a card with Paywave no signature is required plus it's faster. We decided to roll a ways and got gas down the road with an attendant. Only self serve, by attendant I mean someone in the station to take payment. Mike had suggested the Culverden cafe for a stop so we cruised through the farmland and hedges with a long fairly strIght stretch while the rain was easing in fits. The cafe was barebones with just a few seats inside but the baked goods looked delicious. I opted for the butter chicken pie (surprising to find a light tomato sauce within) and a cream filled doughnut that was eclair shaped and drizzled with a raspberry sauce. 😋 All washed down with the dark chocolate milk which seemed to be in most shops. There was a paper sign with Uncle Sam on it. That dude was a long way from his origin in Troy, NY! 🇺🇸 He was being used to prompt interest in a "bowl" club since their numbers were dwindling and its survival was in question. I assume that's what we call bowling? After using the public toilet (they are very nice and high tech, many with electronic access and all have been super clean) we headed toward Lewis Pass and the landscape obliged our desires for more curves and mountain scenery. We had some beautiful views and made a couple photo stops but 2/3 passes over the Alps we've done lately didn't have a sign or marker and couldn't tell when the actual summit was reached. Weird. A few different areas where it was discussed if this was the apex or a false summit. I'll never know which but the road was superb. We even had some 15kph curves thrown in there for good measure! We pulled in to a very cute town of Reefton which had some motorcycles strewn about. Got gas at the Mobil as Ted attended to a scratched open mosquito bite with a band aid assist. The "healthy" breakfast had kept hunger from appearing at the appointed lunch hour, so instead of stopping to eat in Reefton we kept going. A couple of sport tourers (BMW) then appeared in our rear view. We are averaging about 110 kph most of the time. They tolerated our pace for a while then whined on by. We saw them edge slowly ahead as we enjoyed the roads and then after a turnoff to skirt Greymouth, they were stopped by a tractor on a one way bridge. The tractor barely fit! One wheel was on the curb. I stopped for a pic behind them and the tractor mid bridge. They then roared on ahead and the farmer held out his thumb and forefinger an inch apart to me, to emphasize the lack of room his machine had to navigate the bridge. I gave him a thumbs up and prodded my 800 into action in distant pursuit of the sport tourers.

We rode to Blackball and cut off the corner to Greymouth, finding the coast road and marveling at the Hawaii like jungle cascading down the sheer hills to the water. Occasional jagged rocks broke up the smooth expanse of beach as we revved northward. We saw a good looking motorcycle oriented cafe at Barrytown and decided to share a pizza there since we weren't that hungry. Cool place. From there it was only 15-20' up to Punakaiki (Poo'-na-kai-key) where we saw tons of cars and campers right in town which consists of the famous pancake rocks on the beach side of the road and a few businesses and cafes on the inland side.

We then approached the coastal Punakaiki lodge and checked in, each having our own unit right by the beach. The ritual shower after riding was eschewed in favor of donning a swim suit and riding to the Punakaiki River where it joins the Tasman Sea, for an afternoon swim. But then realizing I didn't want to walk around Pancake rocks in a wet bathing suit, we turned around and buzzed the 1-2km back to Pancake rocks. Such a cool place! See the first pic above. There are blowhole pools where incoming waves make thunderous sounds and spray water. There are all sorts of connected caves and then there are the rocks! Limestone erosion and the ocean have created a wonder here. Strolled on the self guided tour for maybe 40 minutes and it is really worth a visit here. Then back to the river and I plunged into the river. Cool, but swimmable and super clear. Went into the ocean and nearly got swept out into the rocks by the surging current so managed to make it back to shore and stick to the river. 🏊‍♂️ 🌊 Soft sand lines the river and first dew feet are shallow, then one step and over your head it was. Back to the hacienda for a shower and then into "town" for dinner and entertainment at the not so inspired name "Pancake Rocks cafe". I ordered the manuka honey coated fried Halloumi cheese with an interesting Asian rice salad and polenta chips to accompany it. Halloumi is made from the local sheep and goats milk. At 7 the open mic night began. There were some regulars lined up and at least a couple were open about the fact that they were singing three songs to qualify for their free beer! One cool song I wished I had taped was about the longest place name in the world which due to it being on the North Island will escape a visit from me this trip. 85 characters long, I'll just paste a link to it here: https://www.google.com/search?q=longest%20maori%20place%20name We got chased away by one of the guys who just wasn't good and closed out the night at the very busy Tavern just north of our lodge. 🍺 😴

https://www.google.com/search?q=longest%20maori%20place%20name

[bikinikillarchives]

3 sets of Bikini Kill opening for Sonic Youth during their 1995, Washing Machine North American tour, with The Amps. all in a neat little doc :) videos taken by Robert Teagan (1 : < last show from this wasn’t from when they opened for sonic youth (** )!) 

November 5, 1995, at Roseland Theater, Portland, OR. SL: Strawberry Julius, No Backrub, DemiRep, Sugar, I Hate Danger, In Accordance to Natural Law, Rah! Rah! Replica, Jet Ski, Carnival, New Radio, Finale.

November 7, 1995, at Warfield, San Francisco, CA. SL: Strawberry Julius, Capri Pants, DemiRep, Reject All American, Rah! Rah! Replica, I Hate Danger, Distinct Complicity, Sugar, No Backrub, Jet Ski, RIP, Rebel Girl, Carnival, Finale. November 8, 1995,  Warfield, San Francisco, CA. SL: Sugar, Capri Pants, Blood One, DemiRep, Rah! Rah! Replica, For Only, Distinct Complicity,  Reject All American, No Backrub, RIP, Strawberry Julius, Carnival, Finale.

(s: 2, 3, 4)

[justforbooks]

"Led Zeppelin The Forum June 3, 1973

This is based on the fantastic AUD recording, expertly transferred from the JEMS Master - DAT (16/32) source. This is a wonderful audience source, documenting an incredible show.

Some feel this is Led Zeppelin's best performance of the 1973 North American tour.

Hey guys, if you're interested in imagining what it was like to be at this show, I highly encourage you to check out this post by Strider on the Led Zeppelin forum. It is easily the best account of a Zeppelin show I have ever read.

Let's get on the time machine...

Sunday June 3, 1973

I'm flying home from San Francisco to Orange County...a little wobbly after my Kezar Stadium trip, but feeling better the more fluids I drink and the closer I realize I am getting to the appointed hour of my third Led Zeppelin concert in four days.

This Led Zeppelin concert is a little different, however. Not only is this the last show of the first leg of the 1973 US tour, but the last LA show...and who knew when the next tour would be, so this would have to get me through whatever dry spell awaited. Most important of all...I was taking my girlfriend to the show; not only her first Led Zeppelin concert, but her first concert period. That I wanted her to enjoy it was an understatement.

My girlfriend's name was Trudy. She was slightly older than me...11 going on 12...while I wouldn't turn 11 until the next month in July. We met when we were on the same community rec swim team the summer of 72. She also liked baseball and played on the girl's softball team until it became too painful for her(this was before the days of high-tech sports bras). A tomboy, she was like Tatum O'Neal with boobs. Our first date was to an Angel game to see Nolan Ryan pitch.

*Quick digression: baseball games make wonderful first dates. It's not as crowded or noisy as football, basketball, hockey or auto races. And the leisurely pace allows for plenty of conversation time to get to know each other. And if you're lucky to get picked for the "Kiss-Cam", that gives you an excuse for a quick kiss.

Back to Trudy...she was great, except when I met her, her musical tastes ran to America, Bread and Seals & Crofts...the hardest band she liked was Three Dog Night. So it was a long process to get her to like Led Zeppelin, David Bowie, the Stones, Alice Cooper and my other faves. Some she never took to(Frank Zappa, Velvet Underground), but after a few months she finally got hooked into Zeppelin. Of course, it was mainly the softer stuff she liked...Stairway to Heaven, What Is and What Could Never Be, That's the Way. Thank You was her favourite LZ song. And when Houses of the Holy came out, she immediately fell in love with Rain Song. But little by little she came to appreciate the hard rocking songs as well.

All this was on my mind as I rested on the plane-ride home. You see, before I saw Led Zeppelin for the first time in 1972, I had NO IDEA what to expect from a Led Zeppelin concert. I had all four studio albums released at that time, but had yet to acquire any bootlegs. So yes, the effect was fairly shattering when finally seeing my first Zeppelin concert, June 25, 1972. By the time of the 1973 shows though, I had bought two Led Zeppelin bootleg double-albums: Live on Blueberry Hill, the September 4, 1970 Forum show; and Going to California, the Sept. 14 1971 Berkeley show, mislabeled as being at the Forum.

Those two boots, plus the memories of the 1972 shows, instilled in me the idea that the acoustic set was a regular part of a Led Zeppelin concert, and I raved to Trudy about the acoustic set...how they did Going to California and That's the Way, two of her faves. But now I had seen 2 of the 73 concerts, and neither one featured an acoustic set, not even one acoustic song...there didn't appear to be an acoustic guitar in the building. They had played Rain Song, so I knew Trudy would love that, but after building it up in her head, I was worried she would be disappointed if she didn't get an acoustic set. Perhaps, they were saving it for this last concert of the first leg...a special treat for LA. That was one fortunate outcome of Jimmy Page's finger injury: not only was Trudy now able to see the concert, but by moving the concert to June 3, my last Zeppelin memory of 1973 would be crystal clear, unlike the hazy one I had of the Kezar Stadium debauchery.

Shortly after 5pm, the plane descended into Orange County airspace, glistening swimming pools dotting the landscape, the brown smog bank of the Inland Empire off in the distance. There they were, my BB and Trudy, my sun-dappled girl, waiting for me as arranged. To save time, I gave him Trudy's address so he could pick her up before meeting me at the airport. Then we could just drive straight up the 405 to the LA Forum. So, after a brief wait for my luggage, there the three of us were in my BB's blue 1969 Chevy Malibu, him driving, and Trudy and I in the backseat. Making the long slog north on the 405, joining thousands of others making the drive from San Diego back to Los Angeles, I filled Trudy and the BB in on my San Francisco trip, not exactly revealing EVERYTHING. Trudy wasn't a party-stoner girl, and I didn't want her to get the wrong idea about me. The BB and I answered questions she had about the concert; she was excited when I told her that it was pretty certain that they would play Rain Song. But I also said that they hadn't played Thank You, and she looked bummed about that...but hey, I said, you never know what they'll play for sure. Maybe tonight they'll play it.

A quick pit stop for gas and a bite to eat at Tijuana Taco(don't ask...just slightly better than Taco Bell...they shut down later in the 70's when employees were caught selling drugs thru the drive-thru window), and we were back on the 405, past the Westminster Mall, past Seal Beach then Long Beach, until nearing LAX airport, and the giant Randy's Donut Donut marking the Manchester Blvd. exit. It must have been around 7pm, as we drove east on Manchester, past La Brea and Market, past the A-Frame International House of Pancakes on the left at Hillcrest, past the usual shady characters holding up "Need tickets" signs. This time we turned right on Prairie, then left into the Forum parking lot, the Forum Club awning up ahead. It was still plenty light outside, a pleasant June evening, and as usual for a rock concert, the parking lot was a bazaar of the bizarre. A panoply of colourful types everywhere you looked.

Thanks to my uncle's wife washing my clothes while sleeping off my trip in San Francisco, I was wearing my burgundy velvet hip-hugger bell-bottoms and yellow 1973 Zeppelin tour shirt. But I saw a bootleg parking lot shirt I liked and bought one for me and Trudy...total cost $4.

There was a long line to get in the Forum, so we headed to one of the special entrances for people with floor seats. Yeah, I had almost forgotten...after 4 previous Led Zeppelin concerts spent in loge or bleacher seating, I was finally going to be near the stage, 13 rows from the front, on the floor, looking at the stage head on. No side or obstructed views this time. I was already stoked...this sudden realization of where we would be sitting further stoked my fire. So eager with anticipation we fairly glided through the narrow tunnel into the Forum floor, past the massive soundboard/mixing desk towards the rear and past the rear sections of the floor, approaching the stage closer and closer until we came to our destination: Section B, Row 13. It did feel weird looking at our tickets and seeing the date May 30. The time once again said 8:00 pm...but we told Trudy that was more a "suggested" time than a firm commitment.

That allowed for plenty of time for concert prep...last-minute bathroom visits, stock up on snacks and coke and back to our seats with plenty of time to watch the roadies fine-tune the stage as the Doobie Brothers and Yes played over the sound system. Although the music wasn't nearly as loud as the concert would be, I gave Trudy the earplugs the BB had brought for her, as we didn't want her first concert to be too painful...I mean, Led Zeppelin were LOUD...VERY LOUD!

Being so close to the stage, you notice details you can't see from far away...the details of the amp setups...Jimmy's simple effects setup...Jones' keyboards and the white mellotron...Bonzo's orange Ludwig vistalites. In fact, I noticed that if you took away the gong and tympani, his drum kit was actually quite small compared to the gargantuan kits of Carl Palmer, Keith Moon and Ginger Baker. Just a bass drum, snare, one rack tom and two floor toms, that's it. Yet, in Bonham's talented hands, that kit sounded more MASSIVE than Carl, Keith and Ginger's kits combined.

Ooooh, there was the big mirror ball high above Bonzo's kit...I pointed it out to Trudy. She also noticed with some trepidation and awe the huge PA speaker stacks...courtesy of Showco. As roadies climbed roped rigging ladders to fix the various spotlights and whatnot, I sensed a different vibe in the Forum tonight from the Bonzo Birthday Party show. Yes, the audience for that show was excited...it was the first night and it was Bonzo's birthday, so we were hyped. But as shouts of "Led Zeppelin!" and "Rock and Roll!" and "Whole Lotta Love!" echoed around the arena, as frisbees and beach balls whizzed and bounced around, the anticipation and buzz of the audience seemed torqued to a higher degree. With the benefit of hindsight, I think I know why. First, the June 3 show was originally supposed to be the first show...and anyone who has been to multinight stands knows that the first night crowd often has the hard core fans. We were the "real" first night crowd, not the May 31 crowd. Second, that May 31 show was so amazing that obviously word-of-mouth spread. Folks heard how awesome the May 31 concert was, so everyone was at fever pitch for tonight's gig...both the people who were there May 31 and were expecting more of the same, and those who just heard about it and couldn't wait to experience it themselves. If you've ever been to a concert by your favourite band, you know the feelings you go through right before the band comes on: the butterflies in your stomach, the calculations in your mind at what the first song will be and what the setlist will entail. How you literally cannot breathe from excitement.

Well, take all that and multiply by 10 and you'll get an idea how feverish the crowd was for this Led

Zeppelin concert was...if someone had thrown raw meat into the crowd, it would have been devoured. Hell, I feared if one of the roadies had fallen into the crowd, he'd be torn limb from limb. The beast was getting hungry...we wanted Zeppelin. At any bit of lull from the sound system, any break from the music, a great hue and cry went up from the throng in anticipation of the band coming on stage. At long last however, after several false moments, sometime around 9ish, the Forum went dark as the house lights went down.

CUE PANDEMONIUM!!! I am serious. Sure, every Zeppelin concert I attended the crowd would greet the band loudly, as loud as any concerts I have seen. But the concert of June 3, 1973 was something else entirely...it was like RAPTURE! People stomping their feet, ecstatically screaming, firecrackers exploding...the only other time I experienced this frenzied a response was the June 21, 1977 show.

In the dark, periodically illuminated by flashes and lit lighters, we could make out the shapes of the band members making their way on stage. As the stomping and hollering from the crowd continued, Bonham gave a quick test of the drums and soon after, the Little Richard-tribute drum intro to Rock and Roll commenced the beginning of the show as the stage exploded to brightness as the stage lights came on the same time as the band kicked into the main riff of Rock and Roll.

Oh shit Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore. Being on the floor is a completely different deal. The loudness is even more LOUD...IN YOUR FACE...AND IN YOUR GUT!!! Especially Bonzo's kick drum and Jonesey's bass. I looked over at Trudy and thanked my lucky stars we had thought of bringing earplugs for Trudy...she had been gripping my hand since the Forum lights went down, but as I looked at her she smiled and signaled she was okay. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene in front of us, and I returned my gaze to the stage. From behind the kit, Bonzo looked like he was wearing the same pastel tanktop, or wifebeater, as before. John Paul Jones was wearing some multicoloured button-down shiny shirt with these fantastic flash silver bell bottoms. Simply extraordinary...he should've worn them for the MSG shows! Unfortunately, being close to the stage allowed me to see Jones' mustache more clearly...he just didn't look right with that mustache. Jimmy Page was wearing the same natty white double-breasted suit as he did at Kezar. With the black and white shoes. His hair looked healthy and fluffy, the coloured lights giving it different hued highlights throughout the night.

Then, there was Robert Plant. Golden God. Golden, flaxen hair flowing down past his shoulders, the lights amplifying the golden hue of his curly locks. Long, lean and tanned body encased in skintight flared blue jeans and a pinkish-red shirt, more masculine than his usual 1973 blousey-type tops, but with just enough femininity to give Plant that otherworldly, ethereal sexual charisma he, and only he among the 70's frontmen, had. No, not even David Bowie or Freddie Mercury had it...David was too drugged out and sickly thin and Freddie too campy with his "Al Pacino in Cruising" look. To top it off, Robert had a red flower(a rose?) stuffed down his pants, so that the flower was just over his belt buckle.

And because we were now looking straight ahead and up at the stage, and not down from afar as before at other shows, the band, particularly Jimmy and Robert since they were closest to the front, appeared 10 feet tall. Like they truly were gods descended from Mount Olympus to bestow upon us mere mortals their immortal musical alchemy. As Rock and Roll progressed, with Jimmy doing his signature Rock and Roll stagger step, Trudy and I were hopping up and down on our seats, standing on our seats the only way we could see over the grownups in front of us. After the guitar solo, when Jimmy did his little leap, Trudy and I jumped as well, as various girls around us squealed. That's another thing I noticed being down front...lots of teenage flesh in hotpants and platforms. But let's get back to the music...

Rock and Roll was at it's end, Bonham flailing away like Animal of the Muppets during the final drum flurry, which leads to the rousing fanfare into Jimmy's solo intro to Celebration Day, notes flashing fast and furious from his vintage Les Paul. THIS was one of the moments I was already anticipating, for the previous 2 Zeppelin concerts had proven how great, and underrated, a song Celebration Day was in concert.

Tonight was no different...as Jimmy's opening guitar shot rapid fire notes, and Robert intones the opening lines, the song builds to that slight hesitation as Robert sings "and she wonders pretty soon everybody's gonna KNOWWWW" and then Bonzo, Jones and Jimmy SLAM into the song in total force, and the impact is UN-FUCKING-REAL!!!

Try to picture this in your mind...Bonzo and Jones are laying down this MASSIVE volcanically-erupting groove, Jonesy's bass inhabiting your bones, while Bonzo's drums wallop your guts, all the while he's staring intently at Jimmy, his mouth popping open from time to time like he's chewing gum and his head jerking with each accent of the beat. Meanwhile, Jimmy is slinking around the stage, guitar slung low, while carving out that ridiculously sexy funky Celebration Day riff. It's not that there's anything wrong with Rock and Roll, although even then it sounded slower in concert than on record, with Robert's vocals not as manic as the studio version, but Celebration Day, for me, is when the enormity of the concert hit me. The song seemed faster and more high energy than Rock and Roll.

And it was somewhere during Celebration Day that I lost it. How can I explain it to you? There isn't a bootleg in the world that can replicate the sound, the experience. Jimmy's guitar is sounding like 100 chainsaws carving that riff into your head...the bass and drums are exploding into your spine causing you to spontaneously jerk and dance about. The overwhelming loudness of the sound envelops you, harmonic overtones, that no bootleg can pick up, merging to create new tones and notes, raising the hair on your arms and sending tingles up and down your spine. On top of the the force of the groove and the sound, is the visual impact of Robert and Jimmy swaggering, thrusting, dancing across the stage...their movements somtimes in tandem, sometimes on their own, yet still strangely in sympatico with each other; the yin and yang. As Robert's voice, by now warmed up from the rough Rock and Roll opening, wails over the musical onslaught, and Jimmy's guitar cuts like a knife sharper than Bryan Adams will ever know, Jimmy struts to the front of the stage and I half expect him to just keep walking off the stage into the air above us. That is when I just erupt in tears of joy. I couldn't help it...I'm with my girlfriend and the band is sounding so good and they are fucking rocking the stage like they OWN IT! None of this tentative squirreling about like some bands. And Celebration Day is KICKING SO MUCH ASS! I tell you, I was in a state of happiness, of TOTAL BLISS, that the waterworks just flowed and flowed. I hugged Trudy and gave my BB a high-five as CD came to an end much too soon...they could have kept that groove going for another 10 minutes as far as I was concerned. And they should have made Celebration Day a permanent part of the setlist from 1971 on, I'm my opinion.

No time for dillydallying, Jimmy immediately slides into the Bring It On Home riff after CD...and Robert promises all the ladies in the house he's going to make them sweat and groove, as the band lurches into the serpentine riff of Black Dog, the third all-out hard rocker in a row to open the show. I always preferred the Bring It On Home riff as an opener to Black Dog to the Out on the Tiles riff, and here's why. With the Bring it riff, the segue to Black Dog seemed smoother. Also, I didn't particularly want to hear the actual song Bring It On Home, by then having grown bored with the early blues covers like Bring It and You Shook Me, so I liked when they shifted into Black Dog. But Out on the Tiles is one of my favourite songs, especially after hearing it on the Live on Blueberry Hill bootleg. So everytime they would play that opening riff to Out on the Tiles, I would get excited they were going to play the whole song. So I actually would feel a twinge of disappointment when they would go into Black Dog instead. C'mon guys, just ONCE gimme Out on the Tiles!

Black Dog swaggers to a close, Jimmy bringing the song to an end with a blazing run, and just like that, the opening three song assault is over, and us fans have a chance to cheer and welcome the band back to LA, as Robert says good evening and goes into one of his plantations, none of which I recall. It's funny, but even more so than in the stands, people down front yell all sorts of stuff at the band, thinking they're so close the band will hear them and respond. Greetings, requests...some musical, some sexual...non sequiters, all manner of nonsense is shouted at the band as a whole and at individual members; Jimmy and Robert topping the list, natch.

Another thing you notice up front is all the stuff that gets thrown on stage that the roadies periodically have to clear off. Joints, wadded balls of paper(notes, I presume), cards, flowers, candy, popcorn, items of clothing(some intimate)...it's quite a sight and probably quite a haul by the end of the night. Fortunately, Trudy refrained from throwing any clothing.

Jimmy took this time to remove his jacket, revealing an orange-red striped button-down shirt with black cuffs that I don't think I've seen him wear before...or since. In fact, both Jimmy and Robert are wearing shirts that I've hardly seen pop up in photographs other than in photos of tonight's gig.

With jacket removed, and Robert's introduction over, the folky beginning of Over the Hills and Far Away begins, as Jimmy's sweet cherry red Les Paul tone lulls you into a state of mellowness, as Robert sings to his lady...then WHAM! The volume increases ten-fold, and again, one of those ingenious simple-sounding yet complex riffs grabs hold of you, while Bonzo lays down a beat that at first seems at odds with the riff, but gradually reveals itself to be a marvel of deep-in-the-pocket groove. In fact, OTHAFA is one of those songs that was fun to watch the band play in concert. Jimmy hunched over, jerking his body to the riff, while Bonzo and Jones watched each other, working over the changes as Jimmy solo'd stratospherically over the top. Robert by now would throw in his Acapulco Gold aside to knowing looks and laughs among the stoners in the audience.

After the song drew to its languorous close, Jimmy bathed in deep blue light, I checked with Trudy to make sure she was okay...that it wasn't too loud or if she needed to rest. Before the concert, we said that we would stay to the end, but if she needed to go to the rest room, I would escort her, and if she got tired, she could sit and if possible, nap in her seat. So far, she was A-OK, thumbs-up, all systems go! Which was fine by me, as we were coming to another highlight of the show for me: the Misty Mountain Hop/Since I've Been Loving You tandem, signaled by Jones removing his bass and walking over to our left and sitting down at his keyboards, face-forward to the crowd, while Jimmy switched from the red Les Paul w/ black pickups to his customary Les Paul Sunburst.

Hippie funk-groove, followed by the sweeping, cinematic English blues drama of SIBLY. As the band charged into Misty Mountain Hop, the vibe of the show kept elevating...so many people dancing and smiling and having a goodtime. Apparently enpugh people in the crowd had experienced getting hassled by the cops over rolling papers to the point that the entire Forum wanted to escape to the Misty Mountains. Once again, the sound is massive, as Jimmy Page's guitar is in your face. Robert is doing all his hippie dances and wiggles across the stage while Jones' funky Fender Rhodes gives the song its colour. But it is Bonham who really drives the song, his every beat of the drum a mighty wallop, with the most awesome snare sound I've yet to hear...crisp, deep and resonant. Fill after fill with perfect timing electrifies the song until the final riff explodes, as Jimmy hits a switch and the guitar increases 10-fold in intensity and Bonzo does what seems like one continuous, roiling fill until the band reaches the point where it suddenly STOPS!

Leaving Jimmy to bend and sway as his fingers traverse the neck of his guitar, notes flying left and right until he slows into those familar notes that shift the band into Since I've Been Loving You. As the crowd howls in delight, especially the blues fans and guitar players amongst us, many of the crowd also begins to sit down, and Trudy is one of them, so I sit down with her. We still have some of our coke left and as we quench our thirst, I ask how she is liking the show so far. "Too much...it's far out", she replies. I put my arm around her as we settle in our chairs and watch the drama unfolding on stage. SIBLY is one of those moments where Jimmy trancends mere musicianship. He's not merely playing guitar, but making the guitar speak, as if the guitar itself had a soul. Or put another way, it's as if Jimmy and his Les Paul were fused into one, as if the guitar was just another extension of his body.

One thing I noticed with Jimmy Page, especially during SIBLY, is that he adjusted his tone and volume knobs on his guitar more than anybody I'd ever seen. Some guitarists I saw wouldn't touch their knobs once during an entire concert. Whereas Jimmy was constantly fiddling with the knobs, fipping the toggle switch...anything to create the variety of tones and sounds that emanated from his guitar. Considering the simplicity of his effects(compare his stage setup in 1973 to today's array of stompboxes taped down in front of every guitarists stage monitor), it's amazing the wide variety of sounds he got out of his guitar.

Again, just to listen is not enough, nor are pictures sufficient to suggest the total charasmatic effect that Jimmy playing the guitar on stage renders on you. And I fear my words fail to accurately portray the devastating impact of Pagey with a guitar. It goes beyond the way Jimmy moves and dances on stage, which is already beyond compare. Not Keith Richards, not Chuck Berry, not Richie Blackmore, not Mick Ralphs. Certainly not Clapton or Iommi, both of whom stand still as statues, making a guitar grimace once in a while. Pete Townshend is the only contemporary who comes close, and his vibe is more "athletic" with his jumps and windmills. Jimmy's vibe is more sinuous and sexy. His ability to dance and swagger and weave across the stage, while his slender frame is weighed down by some of the heaviest guitars in the business, the solid-body Les Paul and the Gibson doubleneck, is incredible enough. The fact that he often skitters across on one foot is miraculous and warrants comparison to James Brown. You think I'm kidding? Well, I'm not...if only someone would have filmed Jimmy at a 1973 concert, just focusing on his feet, you would be talking about his footwork with awe. To see it up close was breathtaking. But what truly made Jimmy a guitar god and sexually charasmatic to everyone in the arena no matter their sex or sexual orientation was the way he danced with his guitar while his feet were dancing upon the stage. Start with the fact that nobody wore his guitar slung as low as Jimmy. NOBODY. Most guitarists had their guitars strapped pretty high, which is the best position for clean, fast playing: Steve Howe, Richie Blackmore, Frank Zappa, the Grateful Dead guys...all guys who strapped it high. Keith Richards and Pete Townshend had theirs a little lower than that, but still nowhere near as low as Jimmy. And I'm sure Jimmy sacrificed some speed and accuracy having his guitar so low...that can't have been good for his wrist and shoulder. But I'll be damned if in 1973 I could tell for he sure sounded fast and accurate enough to me. And that was while he was doing electric gyrations across the stage. When he deigned to stand still like during Rain Song, he sounded as clean as his studio performances. But Jimmy wasn't built to stand still...he used his body to transmit to the audience every electric charge he was feeling through the music. Every whiplash chord, every sinewy solo, transmuted his body. At any given moment, he would swing his guitar away from his body, or hold it aloft with his right arm extended upwards to form a "V". He would be hunched over dramatically studiously focused on the fretboard, or gracefully arched back, back nearly parallel to the ground, while pulling of a solo. Or there were those tender moments, often during SIBLY, when he would pull the guitar up gently in a nearly vertical position, as if he were cradling a baby or a woman, and coax the most beautiful tones out of his instrument. It was a pas de deux between man and guitar and it was mesmerizing, both aurally and visually, beyond compare.

It was Godhead...sheer and utter GODHEAD! But while I was transfixed by the moans and groans emitting from Jimmy's guitar, my girlfriend Trudy was enraptured by something equally as powerful and potent: Robert Plant. Six feet of tanned, blond, British sex-on-two-legs. For while Page's guitar was emoting its way through SIBLY, so was Plant doing his moaning and groaning, while doing his mic stand parry-and-thrusting...sometimes hanging on and gripping the mic so tightly, you thought he would crush it. As Plant and Page engaged in their signature banter, with each seeking to echo and underscore what the other was doing, until both vocal and guitar lines were intertwined, the slow-burn drama of the song began to build towards that crucial hypnotic part right after the guitar solo. When I turned to look at Trudy, she had a look on her face that suggested she was transfixed. Not exactly a 1000 yard stare, she was keenly focused on Mr. Plant, a broad smile creasing her face until later in the song, she was just frozen in open-mouth wonderment. You know that scene in The Song Remains the Same movie, where that beautiful hooded girl breaks into a smile during SIBLY, overcome by the power of the song? That's what it was like watching Trudy during SIBLY. I can't say if it was the best SIBLY I ever saw...I tend to be partial to the SIBLY's where JPJ uses the Hammond B3 organ. But it was plenty emotional and definitely up there with the best.

Now came the Houses of the Holy trilogy of mood: the gloomy winter of No Quarter; summery surge of The Song Remains the Same; and pastoral spring of the Rain Song.

As Jones remained at the keyboards, the fog rolled in off the stage as Jones sounded the opening notes. It was incredible from this vantage point. It seemed at times as if the whole band would be swallowed up by the bank of fog, the stage lights giving it a haunting glow. I don't see how Jimmy could find his wahwah pedal in all that smoke. Speaking of Jimmy, this is one of those songs from Houses of the Holy that, while sounding perfectly okay on record, took on an extra depth, energy and power in concert. Jimmy's riff especially gained depth in concert. On the record, it's suitably fuzzy and kind of jazzy...but it lacks heft. The riff sounds thi and barely there. But not in concert. Once Jimmy stomps on his Crybaby, the riff CRUSHES your skull and you find yourself alone in the snowy, wintery night, chased by the dogs of doom. The sound of the song is MASSIVE...yet you look on stage, and there's ONLY THREE GUYS making this simultaneously huge, yet subtle and colourfully varied sound. No backing tapes or backup musicians a la the Who or Queen. No other 4-piece (which basically was a trio instrumentally, with a vocalist), could equal Zeppelin's sound in 1973. Black Sabbath? HA! Nice try, but ultimately a one-trick pony, and not helped at all by a shoddy muddy sound system.

To watch Led Zeppelin in concert was to be reminded once again of the mathematical trueism: the sum is greater than the parts. While each member of Led Zeppelin was spectacularly proficient on his individual instrument, it was the spontaneous combustion when they got together, the sum total of their talents, the off-the-charts group chemistry they had that made Led Zeppelin special.

Let's face it...Led Zeppelin was playing the same notes, the same blues scales as many other bands. But their talent and sheer force of personality made it appear to the audience that we were hearing these sounds for the first time. They sounded fresh and new the way Zeppelin played them, while Grand Funk, Deep Purple, Uriah Heap, and Sabbath sounded old and stodgy after awhile.

It was during No Quarter, as the lights turned blue and the band worked into the jam groove, that you noticed another singular element about Led Zeppelin...it wasn't so much notes they played, but colours and emotion. Bands like Emerson Lake and Palmer and Deep Purple would show off their instrumental chops and I wouldn't feel anything other than an overwhelming urge to chop off Keith Emerson's hands or knock Richie Blackmore's scowl off his face. With Zeppelin, their jams created a mood, an emotion tied to the song and to some distant yearning in the listener. Time stopped and you felt transported.

Jimmy remembered the second part of the solo, unlike San Francisco, and it was during the latter part of the song that we got the first taste of Jimmy's Theremin, accenting the howls of the dogs of doom. Followed by Jimmy going crazy on the wahwah. As was usual by now on the 73 tour, the song engendered a standing ovation. Trudy and I, along with most of the crowd, had spent SIBLY and No Quarter sitting down, but now were on our feet roaring. And as Jonesy took his bows, and moved to put his Fender bass back on, and Jimmy strapped on his iconic Gibson EDS-1275 12- and 6-string double-neck guitar...red body with black pickguard, thank you very much...I knew we wouldn't be sitting down soon. For by now I knew it was too early for Stairway to Heaven. Besides, with Jones on bass, that meant it was time for the rush of sound that was The Song Remains the Same.

Robert was doing an introduction to the song, and I believe he mentioned Rolling Stone magazine sarcastically...which I think he also did at Kezar. It seems Rolling Stone compared Led Zeppelin unfavourably to Slade, which when you think about it sounds ludicrous. But then, that's where Rolling Stone's head was at at the time. I mean, Slade had some moments but to put them in the same league as Zeppelin was laughable.

So, 1-2-3-4-GO! And The Song Remains the Same blasts us in the face, Bonzo's galloping beats and JPJ's rubberband-man bouncing bass lines underpinning the chiming bells of Jimmy's 12-string guitar. It's such a warm, beautiful sound...those ringing, chiming bells; what a TONE!

Then again, there's the magical, indescribable sight of skinny Jimmy, huge doubleneck strapped to his thin frame, weaving and bobbing around the stage, somehow managing to avoid crashing into the drums or decapitating Plant with his guitar. The song is so joyous to hear and see performed, that I'm almost moved to tears of joy again. Trudy and I are boogieing on our seats, as is my BB. The smells of cannabis and hash are in the air, but whether it's because I've built up a resistance or what, I don't really feel affected by it. The groove of the song is IMMENSE and INFECTIOUS! And the camaraderie among the band is evident, with Robert, Jimmy, John and Bonzo exchanging winks and smiles like they were the coolest boy's club in the world. Watching them, I want in...I want to play guitar like Jimmy Page and start a band. That becomes fixed in my brain as the state of supreme happiness.

When Robert sings "California sunlight", I cannot help but beam with state pride...California's mentioned in a Led Zeppelin song! I also notice something else...I prefer Robert's vocals on this song in concert than the helium vocals on the record. The Song Remains the Same is hurtling along, pell-mell, taking the crowd along in its frenzy. Shit is flying through the air and we're all just along for the ride. The song at once sounds tight and together and about to come apart at the seams. It's like Bonzo said "alright, everybody go on the count of 3, and meet you at the finish!"

The song comes to its end so quickly that you barely get your breath back before the sweet, lilting sound of Jimmy on the 6-string rings in the opening of Rain Song, as the bright lights dim to blue. FYI, Jimmy looks gorgeously spectral in this light. Now, I knew Rain Song followed TSRTS, but Trudy didn't, so as I knew she liked the song, I couldn't wait to see her reaction when the song began. She gave my hand an extra tight squeeze, and as everybody was sitting down again, as I sat down she sat on my lap and gave me a hug and whispered "thank you" in my ear. Again, Robert's vocals were perfect...so tender and filled with sincere emotion. I know some people think he lost it after 1972, but on some songs he sang better than ever. Immigrant Song might have been beyond his reach at this point, but he nailed all the Houses of the Holy songs.

As Jimmy and Jones, who now was seated at his white Mellotron facing right towards Jimmy and Bonzo, began the langorous instrumental interlude after Robert's opening verses, Trudy turned to me and kissed me deeply...and we kept kissing...and kissing all the way through til when the song gets to the rocking middle part. Everybody who has been to a concert with their significant other has had a moment like that. It's a memory emblazoned on my brain and one I will never forget. Whenever I hear Rain Song, I think back to that kiss.

As Jimmy delicately finger picks the closing arpeggios, and Plant brings the song to a rousing finish with a final wail, we are on our feet again giving the band another well-deserved standing ovation. People, mostly the girls, are shouting endearments to the band, as piercing whistles echo through the arena and bics flicker and glow in the darkness. Jimmy takes a bow and nods to the audience before handing his doubleneck to Raymond, his Scottish guitar roadie. As Robert also acknowledges the crowd, and the multifaceted Jones once again switches instruments, Jimmy rolls up his right sleeve. For now it's time to really get to work.

As Jimmy straps on his trusty Les Paul, Robert gives an introduction about an oldie...then only a single spotlight on Jones as the doomladened notes of his bass sound the beginning of "Dazed and Confused", in 1973 still one of the most anticipated songs of the night. A whoosh of expectation rushes through the crowd, as Jimmy sounds the first opening squeal of his guitar, heralded by a flash of smoke and fire and deep dark red lights. As Jimmy manipulates the sound of his guitar via his wahwah and and bending the strings behind the tuning peg, the mood turns positively evil. Is this the SAME BAND that just moments ago had transported us to a serene English meadow?

Okay, I have to confess I didn't like the way Robert sang Dazed and Confused in 1973...and 75 as well. Too much unnecessary squealing and changing the lyrics. Saying "I wanna make love to you little girl 25...25...25" over and over was annoying. It's a hoary blues cliche. Wished he would've stayed with the original "will your tongue wag so much when I send you the bill".

But the opening verses pass quickly enough, and 1973 is the last year where Jimmy really hits the vibrato during the chorus riff. Now it's on through the new segment developed for 1973, the fast solo and riffing bit leading into the "San Francisco" segment. I looked over at Trudy and she was still hanging in there. The band was cooking until suddenly it stopped and Jimmy shifted gears and began picking out the most beautifully melancholy melody I've ever heard. The genius of this band to just nonchalantly spring into a riff that other bands would kill for. As we all know by now, that riff was later used as part of "Achilles Last Stand", which I suppose is one reason why Dazed was dropped after 1975...although the band could've just dropped the "San Francisco/Woodstock" segment.

But as much as I love "Achilles", I feel that riff was most effective in the live Dazed and Confused's. It

felt more naked and vulnerable...more haunting. As Jimmy played the riff, and Jones and Bonzo figured out when to come in with the beat, Robert sang the lyrics to "San Francisco", the Scott McKenzie song I barely remembered from Monterey Pop. Then as Jimmy leaned on his wahwah and played that phasing sawing riff, Robert added his spectral moans courtesy of his echoplex.

Before you knew it, Jimmy was headed towards his wall of amps, and the moment everybody was looking forward to was at hand...Jimmy had the cello bow in his hand.

At first, as Jimmy applied the heavily rosined bow strings to his guitar, Jones and Bonzo gave light accompaniment, but soon they stopped as the stage darkened with the lights only on Jimmy. Now the bow segment began in earnest, as the most unearthly, loud, resonating howl emerged from the depths of hell. Then, as he began the part where he slaps, or whips the bow against the pickups, and pointing the bow in the direction the sound was reflecting, people began to lose their minds. The lights flashed and changed colour with every slap of the bow...blue, red, yellow, green, orange...as Jimmy pointed left, right, front, back with his bow, bow strings shredding, directing the sound around the arena. Then, the coup des grâce..the lights begin flashing rapidfire as shapes flicker in the background as Jimmy whips his guitar mercilessly, bow strings breaking and flailing everywhere, people in the front row trying to grasp the falling strands. It is one of the most indelible concert moments I've ever seen and heard. By this time Jimmy seemed 10-feet tall, and held complete command of all of us. But he was just beginning.

As he began bowing a spooky, scary-movie motif, I looked at Trudy and saw that she was sitting down, holding her hands over her ears, even with her earplugs already in...this was too much for her to take at her first concert. But like a trouper, she endured it with no complaint, unlike some other girls I took to concerts. One thing people often forget about the bow segment, is that it wasn't just about Jimmy. Depending on how inspired he felt, Robert would also contribute to the sound-orgy by adding his echoplexed melismic moans and howls to Jimmy's bow screeches. With the lightshow getting weirder and weirder, with trippy shapes and shadows projected onto Jimmy Page, the mood of the whole piece attained a level of evil dread that Black Sabbath could only dream of reaching. Every time I saw Black Sabbath, I could never take their attempts to be dark and evil seriously...mainly because Ozzy was such a ridiculous frontman. He was like a hyperactive frog.

As the bow segment reached it's climax, and Jimmy unleashed the hounds of hell, the sound began to drive you mad...you can't imagine how loud and shrill it was. Nor the white noise harmonic overtones that added to the texture of the sound. By now, Jimmy was frantically rubbing his fingers up and down the strings from the neck of his guitar to the pickups, while sawing his bow, with barely any strings left. With his hand rubbing more violently, I feared he was going to slice his hand on the strings. Bonzo joined in the final unholy climax of noise, and as Jimmy threw the bow away, the band got ready to gallop into the marathon jam, with Bonzo, Jones, and Jimmy hitting a few preparatory power chords before launching into the first fast guitar solo section familiar from the album version. From here the song becomes KINETIC personified. Behind the drums, Bonzo is hammering away at a racehorse pace, head snapping at the beat, each strike of the kick drum knocking you for a loop. Meanwhile, Jones is rolling through that endlessly looping bassline at inhuman speed, using just his fingers...NO PICK! Then there's Jimmy, strafing the audience with blitzkrieg runs up and down the neck of his guitar...how his guitar is still in tune after the violent lovemaking he gave it during the bow segment is beyond me. And don't forget Robert...he's not taking a break during this jam, either. Whether engaging in call-and-responses with Jimmy, or boogieing along to the music, Robert was a lion on the prowl.

As the band worked through the different changes, Jimmy, Bonham and Jones watching and listening to each other for the various cues, the incredible stamina of the band hit me with the force of a Bonham beat. Here we were, nearing the 90 minute mark, and while most bands would just be wrapping up their shows by now, Led Zeppelin were just getting started, savagely attacking their instruments with godlike intensity. The Rolling Stones would already be in their limos heading out of the Forum parking lot.

But Led Zeppelin asked no quarter...and they gave no quarter. When you entered a Led Zeppelin concert, you were entering a test of extreme stamina and emotions. Led Zeppelin was body music to the extreme, but it was also music for the head and psyche. After a Zeppelin concert, not only would your body feel pummeled, but your psyche, emotions and senses felt like they'd been put through the wringer. It was total immersion.

The boys were winging their way through the various twists and turns of the Dazed and Confused jam, Jimmy and Bonzo taking delight in prodding each other. My girlfriend had decided to take it all in sitting down...the storm of sound that is Dazed and Confused was a bit much for her. Baby steps I thought to myself...everything in good time. By now, sweat was flying off Jimmy's hair everytime he whipped around. I wouldn't be surprised if the people in the front row got sprinkled with a bit of holy sweat. As Jimmy navigated the twists and turns and dips and dives of the jam, he pulled out all the stops. Electro-stagger steps...laybacks...whirls and twirls...chicken dances. He was everything you want a guitar-hero to be...and his boundless energy was stunning to behold.

1973 was the last year I truly enjoyed Dazed and Confused from start to finish. In 1975, while I liked parts of Dazed, I found the energy of the piece as a whole, flagged at times...sometimes even coming to a complete halt. In 1973, the energy was NON-STOP! Like I said, it was a ocean of sound, a storm of sensory overload battering the senses. A complete contrast, say, to the jam in No Quarter. No Quarter was more a study in the use of space in a jam, Jonesey's piano, Jimmy's guitar, and Bonham's drums working off each other's tangents. Dazed and Confused was more about exploring every riff's possibility for themes and variations. That's why there's enough good riffs in Dazed and Confused to create 6 or 7 new songs.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, as the band comes to the end of the song, where any normal band would hurry to the finish, Led Zeppelin find one last spark of inspiration and take the audience on one last stratospheric jam...Bonzo and Jones engaging in a funky, bouncy round-and-round groove, while Jimmy goes in wahwah hyperspace. Just when you think the song couldn't last any longer, you're engrossed and groovin' to this spacey jam and you think to yourself that you wouldn't mind the jam going on for a while. Several minutes later, Bonzo's flying fists of fury are flailing around his kit at supersonic speed, and 30-some-odd minutes later, Dazed and Confused comes to an end. The band and audience both seem half- euphoric and half-exhausted. Jimmy smilingly accepts the hosannas of the rabid crowd. Again, the intensity and vibe of the crowd tonight seems 10 times the previous shows, which in turn seems to be inspiring the band to greater heights.

More Plantations follow, as Jimmy once again straps on the Gibson doubleneck, and Jones sits again at the Mellotron. I can't remember exactly when during the concert Plant made these remarks, but I know he mentioned Jimmy's hand injury and how he had been soaking it in a bucket of ice-cold water ever since the injury. He also said something to the effect of "you shouldn't be here tonight and we should be in England", in reference to the May 30 show being rescheduled for June 3.

Robert Plant's relaxed remarks and calm control of the stage revealed another reason why Plant was such a singular presence in the 70's. Apart from his sexual charisma and primal rock voice, it was refreshing to have a frontman from England that you could understand when he talked between songs. I couldn't understand half of what Mick Jagger or Ozzy Osbourne were talking about when they bantered between songs. Of course, it didn't help that they were yelling half the time. Which brings me to another plus about Plant...he wasn't a hype-meister who condescended to the crowd. Robert could talk and joke with the crowd with a quiet confidence, a relaxed nature that made a show feel intimate even though there were 18,000 other people in the room. And if he wanted quiet, he wasn't afraid to issue a curt "shut up a tic" to the crowd. Most frontmen so want to be liked that they're afraid of saying anything that would piss off the audience. But the quality I most admired in Robert was his refusal to be a hype-meister and phony. Mick Jagger and Ozzy Osbourne being two examples of the above. Mick and Ozzy found it necessary to constantly harangue the audience to make some noise and go crazy, always yelling, Yelling, YELLING at the audience. It's like they didn't trust the music to excite us, they had to whip us up in a frenzy like they were working a circus sideshow. It became annoying after a while. Sorry Mick and Ozzy, I don't always have to be jumping up and down and waving my hands in the air to have a good time. Sometimes I just want to be still and concentrate on the music. They are like the precursors to today's rap hype-men. Robert trusted Led Zeppelin's music to do the talking. He didn't need to scream the cliché "Are you ready to rock, Cleveland?" or the equally hoary "make some noise!"

Plus, the guy was gorgeous with the most amazing head of hair in rock history. I put it to you that no other rock frontman could have worn those flowery, feminine blouses that Plant wore, and still retain the masculine sexuality that Plant did. And Plant was sly enough, and confident enough in his masculinity, to allow the feminine, androgynous side to shine through, too. He was a sexual beacon for all.

But he wasn't the only one...and that is yet another reason Led Zeppelin had such a devastating impact on people, not just musically but sexually as well. For in addition to the blond Viking god, Robert, you had the yin to his yang, the dark, mysterious, ethereal Jimmy Page.

The next song showed this duality off to terrific effect. As Jimmy played one of the most instantly recognizable song intros ever, his guitar was momentarily drowned out by the huge roar of the crowd. Almost a year and a half since LZ IV's release and Stairway to Heaven had assumed anthem status. The blue lights sparkled off Jimmy's doubleneck, and reflected off the sweat on his face and in his hair. As Robert sang the opening lines, another roar erupted from the crowd, before everyone sat down to take in the song. This is where the band showed their understanding of pacing, as they knew after the half-hour of Dazed and Confused, the crowd would need a respite to regroup before building the audience's excitement back up again to carry over into Moby Dick. Stairway to Heaven was the perfect song choice.

Meanwhile Trudy had recovered from the Dazed and Confused onslaught, and liking Stairway to Heaven, her attention perked up...especially the way Robert Plant was glowing before her. Let me explain. While the majority of the stage was bathed in a cool blue light, golden spotlights shone on Robert from behind. So while his chest glistened with sweat in the mystic blue light, the spotlight behind him gave his hair a giant golden halo effect. I looked over at Trudy and once again, she had THAT LOOK. She had been zapped by the Golden God. And the effect was heightened by the fact that Robert stood mostly still while singing the first few verses of Stairway, so that when Robert looked our way, Trudy could imagine he was singing straight to her. Coupled with Jimmy standing to the side, blue light casting an ethereal shimmer on him, both Robert and Jimmy appeared to be a couple of Sylvan Sylphs, visiting our world to spread a little musical majick.

Bonzo soon added a little earthy reality as he came in with the beat, his snare sounding resoundingly through the Forum. Then, as the stage lights brightened to a white heat, it was time for Jimmy's fanfare, his doubleneck held aloft, vertically upright, fretboards parallel to his body. Then, THE SOLO! By now, it was de rigueur that every Stairway solo was different, which in my opinion, was a lot of pressure for Jimmy to put on himself. I mean, think of the strain and stress of having to come up with a different solo every night. But as I mentioned before, they asked no quarter, they gave no quarter. By the solo, most of us had risen to our feet again, and watched with elation as Jimmy tangoed with his doubleneck one last time for the night, wringing every last bit of emotion from the neck of his guitar. Come the final hard rocking part, and I think Plant stunned a few of us with the intensity of his attack on the final lyrics...he was holding nothing back. This was a band that still played Stairway to Heaven like they MEANT it. Needless to say, Plant's gentle reading of the final line triggered a massive wave of love as lighters were lit and more flowers thrown on stage and waves and waves of cheers descended upon the band as the lights hitting the mirror ball high above the arena threw 1000's of fractured shards of light spinning around the darkened Forum. Another memorable moment.

Now it was time for Bonham's showcase, Moby Dick, and it is a sign of the times that people still cheered a drum solo back then. But Trudy needed a pit stop, and as I had already seen 2 Moby Dick's this tour already(although I only remembered the Forum one), I didn't mind escorting her to the women's restroom and getting her a coke. Apparently we weren't the only ones making a pit stop at that time...as the line for the restrooms and snacks were huge. Judging by the length of the women's line, women have less of a tolerance for drum solos than men. The BB joined us, and while

waiting for Trudy to emerge from the bathroom,

we compared tonight's show so far with Bonzo's

Birthday show the previous Thursday while we hit

the men's room. I thought it was going even better

than Thursday's concert. He wasn't sure. We both

agreed the crowd seemed even more geeked up

than Thursday...more geeked up than any concert

crowd we had seen. FINALLY Trudy emerged from her restroom hell, and we headed to the snack bar line, where BB was already waiting for us, having gone ahead while I waited for Trudy. After nearly 20 minutes or so, we had drained our bladders and gotten some more coke to fill them up again. We were ready for the final stretch of the show..

As we made our way back to our seats, we saw the last bit of Moby Dick, as Robert shouted "John Bonham! John Henry Bonham! 25 years old" while Bonham stood up and tipped his hand to the crowd. Of course, Bonham's drum solo was so loud, that even though we were in line outside, we could still HEAR Bonzo even if we couldn't SEE him.

Meanwhile, there had been a few sartorial changes while Bonzo was making like Animal from the Muppets. Somehow, the red flowers in Plant's pants now were attached to Bonham's drumkit, and Plant had planted new flowers in his crotch. And Jimmy had ditched his sweaty orange-red shirt in exchange for a black zippered windbreaker jacket, with the zipper undone nearly all the way.

Bonham went into the 1973-style intro for Heartbreaker, and as Jimmy's wondrous 1973 tone carved its way like a scythe across the Forum as those buzz-saw riffs strutted like a tiger in heat, the band's intent became clear. It now became clear why the band dumped the acoustic set for the 1973 US tour.

As the 1973 US tour would be their longest and largest yet...more cities, more dates, larger venues...the band probably realized that they would attract a lot of casual and first-time fans on this tour. With the increased focus on Public Relations, there would also be increased media scrutiny. It seems, if you look at the setlist, and the way certain songs were linked together, that the band wanted to streamline their set for maximum impact. No more long gaps tuning up, or setting up acoustic guitars and stools. They kept the marathons the hard core fans loved (Dazed and Confused and Moby Dick), while adding enough of the eclectic and soft material to make up for the loss of the acoustic set(Rain Song, No Quarter, OTHAFA). And look at all the linkages, which cut way down on song intro time, not to mention equipment changes:

1. Rock and Roll>Celebration Day>Black Dog

2. Misty Mountain Hop>Since I've Been Loving You

3. The Song Remains the Same>Rain Song

4. Heartbreaker>Whole Lotta Love

Another consideration that may have led to the dropping of the acoustic set, is the reality that the ability of mics to pick up acoustic guitars in an arena setting with high quality was hit-and-miss in the early 70's. The band might have said let's wait until microphone technology improves before dealing with the hassles of miking acoustic guitars in a humid basketball arena. Just a hunch.

Whatever the reason, the 1973 setlist was a model of pacing and variety delivered for maximum impact.

Right off the bat, three quick all-out hard rockers: R & R, Celebration Day, and Black Dog.

Then, two more rockers that are slightly more eclectic: OTHAFA and Misty Mtn Hop.

Then a long stretch of new songs and old showcasing a variety of moods and tempos and solo showcases: SIBLY, No Quarter, TSRTS, Rain Song, D & C, Stairway, and Moby Dick.

Finally, the ramp back up to high energy rockers to send the crowd out on a high: Heartbreaker, WLL, The Ocean, Communication Breakdown.

Back to Heartbreaker...Bonzo is a friggen' marvel in this song; more than 2 hours of playing and right after completing a huge drum solo that would have exhausted most men, and John Henry is STILL delivering crisp fill after fill and hitting the beat hard. Jimmy is moving and grooving as only he can, and as he tempts and teases us during the wicked guitar solo, leaning out over the lip of the stage as he bends the strings behind the nut, it's hard to believe that he just recently injured his hand. You'd never know it the way Jimmy is blazing on guitar tonight. After I saw the Bonzo Birthday Party concert, I made a mental comparison between that show and the 1972 shows, and for the most part I felt the songs played in 73 were just as good, if not better than the same songs played in 72. The two major exceptions were Heartbreaker and Whole Lotta Love. I thought both those songs were played better in 72 than 73. And while tonight's Heartbreaker was better than May 31, I still didn't like the way it cut off the end to go into Whole

Lotta Love.

Whole Lotta Love started more smoothly than on May 31, more crisp and immediately in the groove. Watching Jimmy take a turn at the backing vocals was always a treat. But the real treat lay ahead during the Theremin segment. 1973 is when the

Theremin segment came into its own. They ditched

the bongo and organ underpinnings from the

past, and finally got down and funky, with Bonham and Jones laying down a mean groove, while Page and Plant did battle with each other. Most of the time they would lead into the Theremin segment with a bit of The Crunge or some James Brown groove. But tonight they dove right into the Theremin segment, with Jones and Bonzo establishing the beat, as Plant asked where that confounding bridge was..."Has anybody seen the bridge?" But the main event occured when Jimmy cranked up his Theremin and Gizmotron, which I think were run through his Orange Amps. In one corner you had Plant at the left, his echoplexed orgasmic moans and cries of love whirling around the Forum as he pirouetted around the mic stand. Then in the right corner stood Jimmy, the Grand Wizard of Sound, directing with his elaborate hand movements bolts of whooshing and whirring sound to do battle with Plants orgiastic wails. It was like a Battle Royale...and once again, another indelible concert memory was imprinted on my psyche. There Jimmy was, hands arcing this way and that as he slid and stalked across the stage, his arms and hands directing the eerie electronic sounds this way and that. Truly remarkable...what a showman Jimmy is.

This theremin duel seemed to last a little longer than most...as if they were having one last bit of fun before the tour break. The crazy sounds were whirling around your head, buzzing your brain while Bonzo and Jones were making everybody get their groove on. After about 5 minutes of delirium, Jimmy cranked his guitar up again and launched into the famous WLL solo. One more verse and chorus and Plant unleashed one of his epic "Wanna whole lotta LOOOOOOOOOVE!"

Now the other night, they only did Boogie Mama, which kind of disappointed me, being used to the 25-minute Whole Lotta Loves with the wacky medleys. So right away I was stoked, as when Plant would normally begin his "Last night" spiel, he instead said "I'm going down", and the band followed suit, Jimmy nailing that staccato riff. YES! This what I wanted...something different and spontaneous. I was holding Trudy's hand and we were swinging our arms back and forth. A couple more verses and a guitar solo, then the band is crunching out the I'm A Man riff, then it's The Hunter...awesome, as this is one of my favourite parts of How Many More Times! Finally the band lets Robert tell us about his mama and his papa, too. This boy's reached the age of 24 and he wants to BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOOGIE! When Jimmy starts that Boogie Mama riff, the anticipation and excitement builds until the whole band joins in and the Forum explodes with joy, as the infectious tune has the crowd happy and boogieing. Robert is shaking it one time for Elvis...well, actually he's shaking it a helluva lot more times than once. While Robert is shaking his bum, Jimmy is reeling off solo after solo, as once again the band's energy and stamina is a marvel. Just like that Robert intones "Woman...woman...woman", and we're back to finish Whole Lotta Love. "Waaaaayyyy down insiiiiide..." As Robert heads to the finale, I make sure Trudy can see as I don't want her to miss this...we have our arms around each other. The band hits those two power chords as Plant gathers himself for that epic "LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE!"

Bonham starts his rat-a-tat fill as the lights briefly flash and dim until right at the moment Jimmy comes in with the WLL riff and BLAM BLAM BLAM! Three fireballs explode behind the stage, the heat of the fire warming our faces! Trudy freaks out at the explosions...she wasn't expecting THAT, hahaha. Oh, but there's more pyro to come...as Jimmy plays the wahwah variation of the riff, Bonzo's gong is prepared with the lighter fluid soaked wraps. All hell breaks loose then as Jones and Jimmy are slashing away at their instruments, Plant is howling above the din, and Bonzo bashes away at his Gong of Fire, flames surrounding Bonham as the whole thing becomes a sight-and-sound bonanza, crescendoing deliriously to the finish. The crowd is a sea of madness...we've been whipped into a frenzy and the band hasn't even left the stage before cries of "MORE!" ring out. Now some bands will only wait 30 seconds to a minute before coming back out for the encore. Led Zeppelin is different, natch. They make sure the audience is serious about wanting an encore, making us clap and scream and stomp deliriously for almost 5 minutes before the band makes it's way on stage. There's been more stuff thrown on stage in the interim.

Now, one way the 1973 Oceans were better than the 1972s, was that in 73 you got the Bonham spoken-word intro, which was always a treat. Bonham also sang harmony with Plant on the la la la part. The Ocean is a song for the fans, and the fans eat it up. It's snappy riff and monster beat lends itself to a happy vibe. It's a giant party in the Forum as people are clapping and dancing up a storm! Trudy and I have got our second wind and are dancing as energetically as we were earlier in the night, 2 and a half hours ago. Now, having had the Houses of the Holy album for 2 months, I had already memorized most of the lyrics, so I knew The Ocean by heart. On the May 31 show, I thought perhaps Plant switched lyrics during The Ocean, but I wasn't sure. So tonight as the band played The Ocean, I silently sang along and sure enough, Robert switched the 2nd and 3rd verses! Of course, I was later to discover he had a habit of transposing lyrics to other songs: Kashmir, TSRTS, No Quarter, Sick Again, Trampled Underfoot. The Ocean is such a killer song, though, I didn't really care about Robert's lyrical switch. Once again, as I watched Jimmy uncork another one of his rubberband-leg dances and the obvious relish with which the band was playing the tune, I think this is such a perfect encore song...one for the fans. In hindsight, I wish they hadn't dropped it from the set so quick...it would have made a better encore song in 1975 than Black Dog. Same in 77.

The Ocean is so infectious and sweeps you up into

its party wake so easily that it's over much too

quickly. And just like that the band is off again,

while this crowd is not going to settle for one

encore. I'm still kind of hoping, since this is the last night of the leg, that we'll get a blow-out of the likes of the June 25, 1972 show, with multiple

encores. But as the setlist was exactly the same on

May 31 and June 2, and so far tonight as well, I

wasn't getting my hopes up.

A few more minutes of hooting and hollering and back come the guys for a second encore. I listened to my "Three Days After" bootleg so many times in the 70's and 80's, that I can still recall exactly what Robert said before the starting the song: "This is something we don't seem to have trouble with...". And Jimmy warms up the Les Paul, then rockets into Communication Breakdown, an early precursor to speed metal, and already faster and heavier than Black Sabbath's Paranoid. The song unleashes a flurry of headbanging in the Forum, your humble narrator included. Until after the solo, when the band switches gears effortlessly from metal to funk, as the band extrapolates on the O'Jays "It's Your Thing" groove, with Jimmy weaving an incredible snake-like riff in and around the beat. What a conjurer of riffs...what a snakecharmer Jimmy is!

The band quickly ramps back to finish Communication Breakdown after the funky interlude. And afterwards, I'm expecting the band to take their bows again and say their goodbyes and disappear off stage. But WAIT! They're making no move to leave the stage...are we, the final night's audience, who have already proven to be one of the loudest and intense, going to get a special treat? YOU BETCHA! I have to bite my lip to contain my excitement as Jonesy sits behind his Hammond B3 organ. Robert then says, "We'd like to say something else." Jones then starts playing his organ solo,  and I am so beside myself, I'm practically levitating. For while she knew Rain Song would be played, as I told her, I also said they had not played Thank You. But knowing that Jones organ solo lead into Thank You, I began to get goose bumps from excitement. Since Trudy didn't know this, I decided not to tell her so it would be a surprise. As Jones executed a sweet gospel-inflected solo, leading to the final fade into silence, as Jimmy prepared to enter, I was literally bursting. Then came those delicate opening chords to Thank You, before Jones and Bonzo entered and Jimmy cranked the volume on his guitar and the riff exploded as a cheer went up. I looked at Trudy and she looked so happy and so awestruck at the same time...we immediately began to kiss, standing on our seats in the middle of the crowd with the song enveloping us. Now, if you've heard the Three Days After boot, you know that after the initial cheer when Thank You begins, 30 seconds later an even larger cheer occurs. Something obviously happened. But what? That is what people have been asking me for years...and I tell 'em, I don't have a clue. For while that was going on, Trudy and I had locked lips and were holding our bodies tight against each other as we let the warm sound of the song cocoon us. So I don't know what caused that sudden crowd eruption...maybe a stage diver? Someone threw a giant joint on stage? A streaker? Maybe Silver Rider climbed up on stage and gave Jimmy a kiss?

All I know is that once again, I was in a state of absolute bliss, such extreme happiness, that I thoought I was having an out of body experience. Here I was, 11 years old, with a sweet girlfriend, whose tongue was doing loop-de-loos in my mouth...AND I already had 5 LED ZEPPELIN concerts under my belt. I knew that no matter what darkness the future held for me, the memory of this night would sustain me through any tough times.

And it did...and still does to this day.

Frankly, Thank You was a blur that night...was it as good as 72 or earlier versions? I don't know. It sounded pretty good to Trudy and me that night! All I know is that we got to hear one of the last Thank Yous ever...definitely the LAST THANK YOU IN L.A.!

Again, Thank You seemed such a perfect encore song, you wonder why it wasn't played as an encore all the time. Thank You over, we held out hope for another encore, so after the band bowed and said good night and goodbye, we stuck around just in case. But really, how could the band top that...Thank You was the perfect song to go out on.

We waited for the house lights to come up, so we weren't stumbling in the dark. Now it's one thing to leave the Forum from the stands, whereby you exit through the concourse and soon you're outside in the fresh air. But on the floor, once the lights come up, you're hit in the face with the craziness...all around you on the floor are hats, glasses, various shoes, ticket stubs, t-shirts left behind, a tambourine, trash of all shapes and sizes, spilled coke and beer. The detritus left behind at a concert is truly staggering. As we left our seats and headed for the tunnel that led out to the parking lot, I noticed a group of fans lingering at the front of the stage talking to the security guys...perhaps trying to talk their way backstage. Today, people try to get the roadies to hand them a setlist or a stray drumstick, but Zeppelin never used printed setlists.

Walking through the spilled drinks on the floor was one thing, but when we hit the tunnel...PEEUW! As loud shouts of "ZEPPELIN!" and "Fuck Yeah!" and "ROCK AND ROLL!" and "WOO HOO!" sounded through the corridor,  the overwhelming stench of stale beer and sweat hit us in the narrow tunnel. What a blessed relief to finally make it outside in the crisp June night air.

After orienting ourselves, we found BB's Chevy Malibu, and joined the line of cars exiting the parking lot. Sure, it's a bit of a wait...but totally worth it. I feel sorry for those that left early to beat the traffic and missed Thank You.

Trudy and I are still in a state of bliss...we fairly floated out of the Forum. In my excited state and the glow of L-O-V-E suffusing me, I declare that that was the best concert I've ever seen. Trudy is too overwhelmed by it all to say much. The BB decides to treat us to a post-show nosh, and we hit the classic A-Frame IHOP down the street from the Forum on Manchester. While Trudy and I peruse the menu, BB makes a call to Trudy's mom to let her know the situation...we're having a post-show meal and then we'll head home. Trudy and I decide to share an order of strawberry pancakes with whip cream. And hot chocolate. They taste pretty good...but then, pretty much all food tastes good after midnight when you've been at a concert all night. Trudy can't wait to tell her friends and sister about the concert...she's finally in a state where she can talk about the show. She thought it was wild and made me promise to take her to see Zeppelin again the next time they played LA. She didn't care for Dazed and Confused though...that was too much for her. She said she literally got scared during the bow segment...it was hurting her ears and freaked her out. The BB said he thought the show was better than May 31, but that the 72 Forum was best overall...he missed the acoustic set.

Our hunger sated, we headed home, south on the 405, Trudy asleep with her head on my lap, as BB drove. I ruminated over all my favourite bands and concerts I had seen...the Stones, Dylan, Beatles, Pink Floyd, Marvin Gaye, David Bowie, Jethro Tull, Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, Yes, ELP, Elvis Presley, Roberta Flack, Joni Mitchell. It was now 1973...ten years from when the Beatles burst on the scene. A full decade. And in 1973, Led Zeppelin seemed to be the supreme summation of all the influences that came before that led to the developing of hard rock and also represent the possibilities for hard rock to transcend its influences and barriers. No other band did what they did...with the variety and power that they did it with. Not that other bands weren't good...the Stones, Floyd, Yes, Jethro Tull...all had something to recommend them. But when I measured them against Led Zeppelin, they all came up short...and I'm not just referring to the length of their concerts.

Seeing Led Zeppelin confirmed to me that while my eclectic taste would allow me to listen to and love a wide range of bands...even bands with no guitars and drum machines...it would always be hard rock, or at least Zeppelin-style hard rock that would be my primary taste. And it would be the electric guitar that represented the sound of rock and roll. And Jimmy Page was THE MAN in 1973, when it came to the electric guitar.

1973 was the year Led Zeppelin ascended Mount Olympus. Houses of the Holy returned them to #1 on the Billboard chart. Their 1973 European and US tours were mega-successful. They broke the Beatles long-standing attendance record and caused hysteria with nearly every concert. Word-of-mouth spread like wildfire. They could even afford to hire their own plane...the Starship. If in 1971, Stairway to Heaven made them superstars, by the end of the 73 tour Led Zeppelin had gone from superstars to rock gods.

In a rare case of the reality not only matching, but exceeding the marketing hype, Led Zeppelin in concert delivered the goods, and then some.

Led Zeppelin: The effect truly was SHATTERING.

Postscript...one of the after-effects of the concert was that Trudy became obsessed with Robert Plant...and with long, blond hair. I didn't have blond hair. Shortly after my birthday, she left me for some surfer with blond locks.

She came back to me two weeks later because he was a lousy kisser.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[930club]

SHOW PREVIEW: Mitski

In support of her fifth studio album release, Be the Cowboy, on August 17, Mitski kicks off her North American and European tour in June with dates extending to December. The album is the follow up to Puberty 2, released in 2016. Mitski has said that Be the Cowboy is about reconnecting with her feelings. "I had been on the road for a long time, which is so isolating, and had to run my own business at the same time. A lot of this record was me not having any feelings, being completely spent but then trying to rally myself and wake up and get back to Mitski,” she said. She has also stated that she has been inspired by "the image of someone alone on a stage, singing solo with a single spotlight trained on them in an otherwise dark room." The lead single (and first of the Be the Cowboy tracklist), “Geyser,” embodies this intimate, raw imagery. With 14 new songs with titles such as “Lonesome Love,” “Nobody,” and “Washing Machine Hear,” Mitski gives us a lot to look forward to in the narrative and fiction experiment of Be the Cowboy.

This tour marks a second set of shows from Mitski this year after opening with Run the Jewels for Lorde in the spring. Mitski’s 2018 headlining tour includes opening acts like Katie von Schleicher, Caroline Rose, EERA, and Jessica Lea Mayfield. Mitski makes her way to DC with Jessica Lea Mayfield on November 16 at the Club.

-Francesca Jimenez

Tickets for Mitski at 9:30 Club on November 16 available here. 

[quotesuniteposts]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Kiss Hot In The Shade Tour T shirt.

[noplacecalledhome]

10 Best Hotels To Stay In Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona – Top Hotel Reviews

Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona is beautiful and has lots of hotels. Ofcourse we are only looking for the best hotels in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona. It’s important to compare them because there are so many places to stay in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona. You’re probably wondering where to stay in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona. To see which hotel sounds better than the other, we created a top 10 list. The list will make it a lot easier for you to make a great decision. We know you only want the best hotel and preferably something with a reasonable price.

Our list contains 10 hotels of which we think are the best hotels in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona right now. Still, some of you are more interested in the most popular hotels in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona with the best reviews, and that’s completely normal! You can check out the link below.

Skip to the most popular hotels in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona.

10 Best Hotels In Pinnacle Peak Estates Ii Arizona:

Holiday Inn Club Vacations Scottsdale Resort

Description:

One of our top picks in Scottsdale.Showcasing a hot tub and fitness center, Holiday Inn Club Vacations Scottsdale Resort is located in Scottsdale in the region of Arizona, just 2.2 miles from WestWorld. Guests can enjoy the on-site bar. Free WiFi is provided throughout the property and free private parking is available on site.Each room is equipped with a flat-screen TV with satellite channels and Blu-ray player. Some accommodations include a sitting area where you can relax. Enjoy a cup of coffee from your balcony or patio. All rooms are fitted with a private bathroom.There is business center at the property.The nearest airport is Scottsdale Airport, 1.9 miles from the property.

Reviews:

We stayed at the property partially for the washer/dryer and more space for our family. The property was great, but the staff’s response to our broken washing machine was sub-par. Maintenance came to fix it the first day, but all they did was pry the door open. Called again the next day, maintenance came again and eventually replaced the unit. Each time I called, the front office staff told me someone was on their way, so I waited in my unit while my family enjoyed the pool. Each time, it took over an hour for someone to come. I felt like I wasted a lot of time waiting for unfulfilled promises. I asked four times that our bill be credited for the inconvenience for $200. After asking a fifth time, our bill was credited $25. Horrible customer service. Sad, because the facility is beautiful.

Very clean and comfortable All essentials were provided

The security and agents at front desk were very polite, friendly and welcoming. The standard two bedroom suite was beautiful and plenty big enough for my family of 6. My kids loved the splash zone and slides. There are plenty of activities to do.

Lots to do for all ages. We had 20 year olds and a 5 year old. It worked for everyone.

The location was convenient. Room was very comfortable.

For more info click here.

Fairmont Scottsdale Princess

Description:

Featuring a large year-round pool and 4 award-winning restaurants, this luxury Scottsdale hotel provides spacious guest rooms. Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport is 24 miles away.A flat-screen cable TV is included in all rooms at Fairmont Scottsdale Princess. Warmly decorated, each room features an amply-furnished sitting area. Tea and coffee-making facilities are provided.Guests can relax and rejuvenate at the on-site spa. Services offered include massages, body wraps and aromatherapy treatments. Manicures and pedicures are also available at Fairmont Princess Scottsdale.The Pool Bar offers poolside dining. Guests can take a break from waterslide fun and kick back with a cocktail. Overlooking the golf course, The Grill serves fresh seafood and specialty martinis.McDowell Mountain Regional Park is 24 miles from this hotel. Downtown Scottsdale is a 14 minute drive away.

Reviews:

No reviews yet.

For more info click here.

Hilton Garden Inn Scottsdale North/Perimeter Center

Description:

Providing numerous on-site facilities and amenities, including a 24-hour convenience store, this Scottsdale hotel is only moments from area attractions, and is an ideal location for exploring the surrounding area.On-site at the Hilton Garden Inn Scottsdale North/Perimeter Center, guests can dine at the Great American Grill restaurant or relax with a cocktail at the Pavilion Lounge. The hotel also features exceptional in-room amenities, including refrigerators, microwaves and MP3 compatible radios.The Scottsdale North/Perimeter Center Hilton Garden Inn is close to the WestWorld Equestrian Center and the shops and restaurants of Kierland Commons. Nearby Highway 101 also offers easy and instant access to much of the surrounding area, including downtown Phoenix.

Reviews:

We enjoyed an unexpectedly great dinner, accompanied by perfect Bourbon Manhattans. The server added to the overall experience, friendly as well as efficient. Front desk service was fast and efficient.

The staff were clueless as what to do and where to go, and what to see in Arizona. The cleanliness was much to be desired. Only after our complaint did the room get cleaned satisfactory not great. The shuttle service is also not the best. We wanted to go to the golf, and the first day, they said they were not running a shuttle due to the roads being busy. Really Thats unacceptable. They did offer the service the next day. Also they will drop you but not collect you.

The beds are comfy. Breakfast was expensive and not great quality food. Kinda feel ripped off.

Everything was great except for the pillows which are substandard.

The staff at all levels and throughout the entire were amazing.

For more info click here.

Scottsdale Villa Mirage By Diamond Resorts

Description:

This property offers an ideal escape in the Sonoran Desert in Scottsdale, Arizona with spacious studios and one-bedroom condos as well as an outdoor pool.Scottsdale Villa Mirage features amenities such as 2 outdoor tennis courts and a fitness center. Guests will also appreciate free, on-site parking as well as helpful concierge services.The activities department at the Mirage Scottsdale Villa can help arrange a Jeep tour in the desert or day trip to the Grand Canyon. Visitors can also play a round of golf at one of the nearby courses.

Reviews:

The place was clean and had everything you needed.

Love the location, facilities, and access to different venues we needed to be at was so close. It is such a great option for us every year when we come to Scottsdale.

Your staff were very helpful with directions to area facilities.

the bed was very nice and the location was excellent

Quiet and peaceful. They villa was very clean and the kitchen was supplied with good quality pans. A few baking pans would have been perfect, but we managed with what was supplied. Great stay.

For more info click here.

Scottsdale Marriott at McDowell Mountains

Description:

Located in Scottsdale in the region of Arizona, one mile from WestWorld, Scottsdale Marriott at McDowell Mountains features a year-round outdoor pool and fitness center. Guests can enjoy the on-site bar. Free private parking is available on site.The rooms are fitted with a flat-screen TV with cable channels. Some rooms include a sitting area where you can relax. Each room is fitted with a private bathroom. Extras include bathrobes and free toiletries.There is a 24-hour front desk at the property.The nearest airport is Scottsdale Airport, 1.2 miles from the property.

Reviews:

Food was surprisingly good for a Marriott. Service was friendly and efficient. Nice pool and hottub. Overall, pleasant stay.

The rooms are all suites with a sitting room and a separate bedroom. The staff is excellent!

Quality of breakfast items. Pool area. Bed and bedding.

No issues with the facility or staff. All were fabulous. Location was excellent. We will return.

Great location. Can easily access north Scottsdale and all it has to offer. Also close to Mayo Clinic. Rooms are large, clean, in good shape, and quite comfortable. Room had a fridge, a small balcony, and a separate sleeping area as well as a desk and sofa in the other room. Both rooms had large flat screen TVs and a sink. Large bathroom with two sinks, shower, and bathtub.

For more info click here.

Residence Inn Phoenix Desert View at Mayo Clinic

Description:

Just one mile from the Mayo Clinic, this Phoenix hotel features accommodations with modern kitchens and free Wi-Fi. A heated outdoor pool, terrace with Sonoran Desert views and a fitness center are on site.Residence Inn Phoenix Desert View’s rooms have a separate living and dining area. Each full kitchen features granite countertops and modern, stainless steel appliances.A free daily hot breakfast is served at Residence Inn Phoenix Desert View at Mayo Clinic. Outdoor barbecue facilities and pre-arrival grocery shopping service are also available.The Residence Inn Phoenix Desert View at Mayo Clinic hotel is half a mile from Highway 101, and just a 15 miles drive from Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. Several restaurants are within a 2 miles drive of the hotel.

Desert View is a great choice for travelers interested in golf, scenery and hot weather.

Reviews:

The staff went above and beyond. The amenities were awesome. Loved the pool and fire pits.

The beds were soft and shower clean. Breakfast had many options!

Everything we needed was provided in the kitchenette. Great room setup.

Included breakfast was certainly the low point of the stay.

Breakfast was really good good variety, rooms were very nice and comfortable

For more info click here.

Residence Inn Scottsdale North

Description:

This hotel in Scottsdale, Arizona is a 10 minute drive from Scottsdale Air Park and Scottsdale Airport. The pet-friendly hotel offers free Wi-Fi and full kitchens in every suite.The Residence Inn by Marriott Scottsdale North provides spacious suites equipped with a 37-inch flat-screen TV with in-room movies. A separate living and dining area and a sofa bed are also featured. Each kitchen has a full refrigerator, dishwasher, and stove.Residence Inn Scottsdale North provides laundry facilities on-site and grocery shopping services are available. Guests can use the outdoor pool and hot tub or the fitness center. Barbecue facilities and a daily hot breakfast are also provided.West World Equestrian Center is a 10 minute drive from the Scottsdale North Residence Inn Hotel. The Promenade Shopping Center is within walking distance of the hotel.

Reviews:

No reviews yet.

For more info click here.

SpringHill Suites Scottsdale North

Description:

This hotel is located in Scottsdale, and is a 4-minute drive from Desert Ridge. It has a heated outdoor pool, and offers spacious suites with free Wi-Fi and cable TV.Studios at the SpringHill Suites Scottsdale North include a sofa bed, and well-lit work desk. They come equipped with a small refrigerator, microwave and a coffee machine.In the morning guests can enjoy a buffet breakfast with hot dishes. A local restaurant dinner delivery service is available, and several international restaurants are located less than 3 miles from SpringHill Suites.SpringHill Suites Scottsdale North has a fitness center, and a whirlpool. Nearby leisure activities include bowling, volleyball, and miniature golf.

Desert View is a great choice for travelers interested in golf, scenery and hot weather.

Reviews:

Clean, comfortable, friendly and welcoming staff, quite, a great property close to all things good in Scottsdale.

Staff was friendly, gym was well equipped. I thought the room was to expensive

Desk staff was courteous, helpful, and pleasant; good restaurant info, TV remote delivered

The rooms were beautiful, updated & classy. The breakfast was excellent! The staff respectful & quick to respond to our needs.

Very comfortable bed. Super friendly staff. Good variety for breakfast.

For more info click here.

Courtyard Scottsdale North

Description:

Courtyard Scottsdale North features an outdoor pool with sun terrace and free Wi-Fi throughout the hotel. It is located 1 miles from TPC Scottsdale and 2 miles from Scottsdale Airport.All rooms at Courtyard Scottsdale North feature flat-screen cable TVs with pay-per-view movies. Every room has an en suite bathroom, hot drink facilities and a well-lit work desk.The Courtyard Café is open for breakfast and there is a 24-hour on-site market. There are also several restaurants and cafés within a short walk of the hotel.Guests can enjoy convenient access to excellent local golf and shopping. The Promenade Shopping Center is just 1,300 feet away and there are more than a dozen golf courses within 5 miles.Courtyard Scottsdale North is located off 101 Freeway, and is 18 miles from Phoenix International Airport.

Reviews:

Great hotel property. Always stay there when traveling to Scottsdale.

Nice all around, staff , bar, grounds, would go back..

The staff was extra helpful and the room was spacious and well maintained. Excellent location in NE Scottsdale is convenient to golf, shopping and more.

Very nice and clean room, which is very much appreciated.

Staff was all exceedingly friendly and seemed cross-trained very well; a shuttle driver helped me extend my stay for a night.

For more info click here.

Sleep Inn Scottsdale

Description:

The Sleep Inn is conveniently located in north Scottsdale, minutes from WestWorld of Scottsdale and the Scottsdale Airport. It offers a continental breakfast and an outdoor pool.Sleep Inn Scottsdale offers air-conditioned rooms with cable TV and free Wi-Fi access. Each one also has a tea/coffee maker. Room service is available as well.A fitness center with cardiovascular equipment is provided by Sleep Inn Scottsdale. Guests can relax in the jacuzzi and use the on-site laundry facilities.Sleep Inn of Scottsdale is within walking distance from several restaurants such as Legends Bar and Grill and the Tilted Kilt Pub and Eatery. It also offers a free shuttle to locations within a 5 miles radius.

Paradise Valley is a great choice for travelers interested in golf, deserts and restaurants.

Reviews:

All the the front desk staff were welcoming and helpful.

breakfast was awesome. staff replenished items in a timely fashion. staff very friendly.

The bed was very confortable. I slept better than I usually do when traveling.

comfortable beds, neat room, gppd location. I believe George checked me in..he was ultra friendly.

My room was clean and recently updated. The staff was friendly. The hotel is in a great location and easily walkable to near by restaurants and shopping. I am very pleased with my stay.

For more info click here.

Top Hotels In Pinnacle Peak Estates Ii Arizona Conclusion:

The above is a top selection of the best hotels to stay in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona to help you with your search. We know it’s not that easy to find the best hotel because there are just so many places to stay in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona but we hope that the above-mentioned tips have helped you make a good decision.

We also hope that you enjoyed our top ten list of the best hotels in Pinnacle Peak Estates II Arizona. And we wish you all the best with your future stay!

Related links:

https://www.noplacecalledhome.com/top-10-best-sports-items-for-boys-top-reviews/ https://www.noplacecalledhome.com/top-10-best-science-items-for-kids-top-reviews/

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[twotravelinglanes-blog]

Switzerland -- a snow-capped wonderland

Two Traveling Lanes

Szerland High There are few places I’ve visited that rival Switzerland in raw beauty and sheer wonder. Want to walk inside an ice cave with millions of sparkling ice crystals? How about cross a suspension bridge 10,000 feet above sea level and stare into the abyss below?

David and I shared a kiss at the top of the Schilthorn in Murren Surely you’d want to scramble up a waterfall inside a mountain to see and hear the roar of 5,000 gallons per second cascading into a bottomless pit mere feet in front of you? How about soaring in a rotating gondola high above snow-capped mountains, enjoying a 360-degree view as steep rock faces and deep crevasses open up below your feet? In just two weeks, we lived and breathed the beauty and culture of Switzerland, from the German-influenced regions in the north to the French and Italian regions west and south. While it truly was a feast for the eyes, we soaked up so much more than the country’s magical scenery in those short 14 days. Live like the Swiss

Ok, I was a little bit excited about reaching the top of this particular mountain. Being surrounded on all sides by incredible beauty is a bucket list moment, for sure. We learned to love cheese and muesli at breakfast, conversed with locals about American politics, marveled at the flowers in nearly every window and came to appreciate the transportation genius of the country. We felt like we belonged there, hopping easily on and off trains and navigating 10-syllable addresses with ease. We rode in swinging chair lifts, cable cars, gondolas, funiculars (railways that travel almost straight up), electric cog railways, trains, buses and one luxury bus. We soared past mountains of staggering heights, walked through alpine valleys thick with yellow globe flowers and smelled the crisp, fresh air in between. All the while, grasshoppers and cricked played their soulful melody, trumpeting the arrival of summer in a country more known for its winter wonderland than kelly green pastures. Use our two-week itinerary With a little advance planning and our fool-proof itinerary you, too, can feel like a part of Switzerland for two weeks, whether you choose to visit in the summer like us, or opt for skiing and snowshoeing in the winter. It’ll cost you a lot less than hiring a travel planner or tour company, too. If you have fewer days to visit, simply omit a stop or two. If we can do it, you can, too! We traveled to Switzerland in June 2016 with our youngest son and daughter, college students at the time. We told them it’d be our last big trip together as a family and started planning where we'd go. In a world full of possibilities, Switzerland got more nods than any other location for three big reasons: it’s overseas, vastly different from our Florida home and full of natural and man made attractions.

The views from our bus, traveling from Lugano to St. Moritz, were fabulous What’s not to like about snow in June? Indeed, our children were perhaps the only kids in their college classes that year to go sledding down a mountain near Europe's highest altitude railway. They were perhaps the only ones to walk along the sheer cliffs of a snowy mountain so high, it evoked a fear of heights in David. And our daughter was perhaps the only senior in her class to almost careen over the edge of the Alps on her foot scooter, causing major road rash but, thankfully, no broken bones or head trauma. But more about that late-vacation tragedy later. Download the train app The trip started uneventfully enough, with a long plane ride from Miami to Zurich and an earnest effort to learn the country's train system. David and I had planned the two-week odyssey on our own, using advice from a few well-known travel planners and many internet sites. We wanted to see the highlights of all regions of Switzerland so we booked six hotels in diverse areas, making sure to enjoy the German, French and Italian flavors of each sector.

One of many trains we rode during our two-week stay Though we saved money planning the trip ourselves, make no mistake: hotels and food in Switzerland are expensive, even by European standards. If you're not prepared to pay $25 for a modest restaurant meal, or shell out a few hundred dollars for an overnight hotel stay for four, don't bother going. Switzerland is an affluent country, and it expects you will be, too. Daughter Julie still recalls the shock of learning that Burger King at a Lucerne train station was selling hamburgers for nearly $10 apiece. Fries were extra. We downloaded a few smart phone apps detailing the country's train schedules, and used both for a few days before settling on a favorite. We liked SBB Mobile the most. It allowed us to put in a destination and be guided to the correct train station, rail platform and direction, along with showing us departure and arrival times. It took a few days but we finally got the hang of it -- with a little initial help from an employee at the Zurich train station. Three countries in one Switzerland doesn't have its own language, so each region's language and culture are influenced by its closest neighbor. We found it amusing to speak and read so many different languages in a single country. Stop signs and menus in Zurich (with a German influence) looked completely different from those in Lugano (inspired by Italy), both of which were unrecognizable in some areas of Bern (French). Most of them spoke fluent English, so communication was rarely a problem. One thing all areas had in common was the price of things. All prices were listed as CHF, or Swiss francs. Lucky for us, 1 CHF is roughly equal to $1, so we didn't have to do any math to convert to US dollars.

Since we planned to rely solely on public transportation and forego a car rental, we bought two-week Swiss Travel passes online and booked hotels, in advance, within walking distance of train stations. Hotels near train stations We found this information online and used booking.com to secure our reservations. The rail passes gave us unlimited rides on all trains except those to unique tourist attractions like Jungfraujoch Top of Europe, the highest altitude railway in Europe, and the Gornergrat in Zermatt. It offered discounts on those. Although we'd done our research thoroughly, there was always a little trepidation each time we stepped off a train, luggage-bound, headed toward a new hotel. Was it truly where we thought, or would we discover it's nowhere to be found? Luckily, we discovered all six hotels were indeed within walking distance of a train stop. We used Google maps on our smart phones to find the hotels and other attractions, although the language barrier and extremely long German names made it challenging at times. Packing light is key One time we had to find a hotel in the rain, making for some soggy luggage once we arrived. We packed only one carry-on bag each because we knew it'd be a chore to lug large suitcases from train to hotel each time. To manage our limited space, we took advantage of washing machines in hotels that had them and handled the 50-degree temperature difference between Lugano and Zurich just fine.

Motorcyclists gathered on the street of Appenzell After a night in Zurich getting our bearings, we took a train to St. Gallen and checked into Idyllhotel Appenzellerhof. It reminded me of a large, older home and was oozing with charm and friendly employees. I loved how Swiss German speech sounded like a song, with the notes and words rising and falling in a beautiful melody. We also savored with the food here, especially the traditional Swiss breakfasts. Many of our hotels offered breakfast buffets much more substantial than their American counterparts. There was usually a wide variety of hard-crusted bread, rolls and croissants with various jams and honey, muesli with fresh fruit and yogurt, potato fritters, a wide selection of cheeses and cold cuts and cereal along with juices, coffee, tea and milk. Appenzell is feast for the eyes After settling into our two-room suite we took a train to the nearby village of Appenzell, a quaint, car-free town with beautiful streets and a myriad of small

Gravesites were meticulously groomed and covered in flowers stores and boutiques. Geraniums, petunias and daisies bloomed everywhere, from window boxes of homes and stores to planters in train stations, roundabouts, bridges and cemeteries. We were especially impressed by the colorful grave sites. Awash in a sea of red, yellow and purple posies, each one looked like it could have graced the cover of a home and garden magazine. The facades of the German-inspired buildings at Appenzell are decorated with colorful paintings, making them all the more whimsical and fascinating. It was here that we got our first taste of authentic wiener schnitzel and Swiss sausages, many of which are white. It was a startling sight at first, but the unique taste and smooth texture of the St. Galler bratwurst won me over. Made of veal, pork, milk and spices, including sweet cardamom, the white bratwurst has been a staple in Switzerland since the 1400s. Of course, what better way to wash down a good sausage than local beer? We toured a small museum at the Appenzeller "Bier" brewery and enjoyed several samples of the ale. Jonathan was a month shy of his 21st birthday but was excited to learn Switzerland's minimum drinking age for beer is a mere 16. He arrived five years too late, by his estimation. Watch out for bubbly water One customary drink I never learned to swallow was carbonated water in bottles. It was hard to discern which bottles contained carbonated or "still" water, as they called it, so we mostly avoided bottled water as a result.

Overlooking the Chapel Bridge in Lucerne We bid farewell to the beautiful Appenzell region after a few days and headed south toward Lucerne, a city David and I had visited in 1989 as part

The streets around our hotel in Malters, near Lucerne of a three-week tour of Europe. It was fun to revisit such famous places as the Chapel Bridge and Lion Monument, and to soak up the rich architecture and vibe of this historic city. We noticed that thousands of people had written or carved their names into the wooden hand railing at Chapel Bridge, We stayed a few miles outside town at Hotel Kreuz, near the Malters train station. It was a large,

Swans are everywhere in Lucerne Bavarian-style hotel with homey furnishings and a window view of an extraordinary church steeple. We rose early the second day to get in a full day at Mount Titlis, the highest peak in the region and home to a glacial paradise with thrilling cable car rides, a zip line, ice cave and suspension bridge between two peaks. Into a snowstorm

Deep inside a tunnel that goes through the solid ice glacier there was a plant visible that must be thousands of years old. It took about an hour via train to get from Lucerne to Mount Titlis, and once there we were whisked about halfway to the top in a small cable car just perfect for our family of four. Although the weather was partly overcast and drizzling, we had several clear views as we floated up the mountainside. About halfway up, we got off the small cable car and got inside a much larger, rotating gondola for the final ride to the top. Once there, we walked outside onto the glacier and into the middle of a massive

The views from the top of Mount Titlis were breathtaking. snowstorm! It was snowing so hard we couldn't see much of the distant scenery, but it was gorgeous staring down into the crevasses below while snowflakes danced around us.

Keeping a close eye on the snow We'd read about the dramatic temperature changes at Titlis and were prepared with coats, hats and gloves. After playing in the snow until our toes and fingers froze, we sought refuge inside with a cup of hot chocolate. Once warmed, we made our way to a lower level and the ice cave, its sparkling crystals and ice sculptures illuminated by soothing blue light. We opted not to ride the zip line or walk across the suspension bridge because the snow had wiped out visibility by then. We played in the snow some more and had lunch in the mountain top cafeteria before heading back for another scenic ride in a cable car. Read the full article