Guitar wizard. Double-neck Gibson SG salesman. Violin bow abuser. Theremin pesterer. Green laser-pyramid dweller. Dragon-pants model. Aleister Crowley acolyte. Presumably reformed recreational drug and teenage groupie enthusiast. The Firm co-founder. Black Crowes sideman. Death Wish II soundtracker. Accused blues plagiarist. And a poster boy for all manner of ’70s excess, hedonism and self-indulgent, self-destructive behaviour.
We could only be speaking of one man, of course: None other than Jimmy Page, who celebrates his 81st birthday today (Jan. 9, 2025). Now, normally, I would mark an occasion such as this by reposting an old interview from my newpapering days. But I never had the opportunity to talk to Page back then, chiefly because I had an editor who was a rabid Led Zeppelin freak. He knew every note of every song on every album — and I mean that literally; when the remixed / remastered / expanded audio of The Song Remains The Same came out 2007, he sent me a lengthy list of every single, infinitesimal change that had been made. I’m pretty sure he did it without even consulting the original version. It was impressive and scary at the same time.
Not that I’m complaining. His fanatacism was also the reason I was the only Canadian journalist who covered the Led Zeppelin reunion concert at London’s O2 Arena in December 2007. It was far less glamourous than it sounds — the backstage press room’s video feed consisted of a crappy old 20″ TV sitting on a low table, though we were able to go out onto the arena floor, which I did during Page’s epic solo in Dazed And Confused. I spent the rest of the night chained to my laptop cranking out song-by-song tweets, writing a review, wrestling with the venue’s shitty, overburdened wi-fi, answering stupid questions from U.K. reporters who were clearly out of their depth (“No, not cashmere the material — Kashmir the place”) and yelling at other reporters to stop standing in front of the fucking TV, please and thank you.
I guess I could repost that review today. But I’d rather do that on the anniversary of the show. Or I could rehash the time that I saw Led Zeppelin on their final tour in the ’70s, when tickets cost $10 and the show was delayed for hours because the band’s plane was grounded in Chicago by a winter storm (or at least that’s what they claimed at the time). Going across the U.S. border with a busload of Zep fans — including one whose entire luggage consisted of a bathing suit and 12 bottles of beer in a briefcase — is a story in itself.
But frankly, that seems like a lot of work. And I’m feeling lazy today. So I decided to invoke the computer gods and let them do the job for me. I asked my generative AI app to write four poems about Led Zeppelin — a serious one, a silly one, a surreal one and a sarcastic one — along with another poem about Page, written in the form of a 12-bar blues song. I’d say they’re every bit as original as any of the lyrics on those early Zep albums. If you feel like incorporating them into an actual song, go for it. You can send it to Jimmy as a birthday present. Maybe he’ll include it on that new studio album he’s been promising us since five minutes after the O2 show.
A Serious Poem About Led Zeppelin
In the shadow of their legendary rise,
Four men forged a sound that would mesmerize.
From bluesy riffs to tales of old,
With echoes of thunder, their story unfolds.
Jimmy’s guitar, a weapon so fierce,
Shredding through silence, the listener pierced.
Robert’s voice, a howl from the heart,
Each note a dagger, a fiery art.
John Paul’s magic on keys and strings,
Crafted the backdrop for songs that took wings.
While Bonham on drums thundered like fate,
A pulse that would quicken, a rhythm innate.
Yet behind the glory lies a tale of decay,
Too much excess leading them astray.
With backstage dramas and egos so grand,
The fragile alliance slipped through their hands.
Oh, the irony of legends, their light so bright,
But caught in the whirlpool of endless night.
Their music a testament, their impact profound,
Yet the ghosts of their choices linger around.
So raise a glass in this critical dance,
To the highs and the lows, the wild romance.
For in every strum, in every scream,
Lies the bittersweet truth behind the dream.
A Silly Poem About Led Zeppelin
In a land of rock, they ruled the skies,
With hair so big it blocked the sunrise,
Led Zeppelin soared on a thunderous flight,
Jimmy’s riffs shining, oh what a sight!
Plant’s voice like honey, smooth and divine,
But if you ask him to sing, “He’s not a whine!”
“Whole Lotta Love” plays with a strut and a sway,
While the reverb keeps the neighbors at bay.
John Paul Jones with his keyboard of dreams,
Filling the air with mysterious themes,
And Bonham on drums, a thunderous beast,
Keeping the rhythm, never to cease.
But amidst all the glory, there’s mischief aplenty,
With tales of hotel rooms that grew quite recent,
“Where’s my fish?” Jimmy cried, in a fit of despair,
For the rock star’s life had a strange sort of flair!
For when they weren’t jamming or stealing the scene,
They were learning to fly, those boys from the green,
With dragons and stairways, they took us by storm,
Creating the magic that’s now heard in form.
So here’s to Led Zeppelin, with laughter we cheer,
For rock ‘n’ roll legends, we hold oh so dear,
With tales of their antics and music that’s bold,
They’ll forever be cherished, or so we are told!
A Surreal Poem About Led Zeppelin
In the land where echoes rise,
A band emerged, beneath the skies,
With thunderous drums and a wailing cry,
Led Zeppelin soared, their spirits high.
From the shadows of the blues they came,
Each note a whisper, each chord a flame,
In the spiral stairways of sound and light,
They wove a tapestry, both wild and bright.
A stairway ascended, to realms unknown,
Where the whispers of ancients, in songs were sown,
With Plant’s howling voice, like a siren’s call,
And Page’s guitar, like a tempest, enthrall.
In the gardens of magic, where time stands still,
The spirits of rock bend to their will,
With basslines that pulse like the heart of the earth,
And drums that echo a primordial birth.
Here in this vortex, both strange and divine,
The mystics of music together entwine,
On the winds of rebellion, their legacy sails,
As history unfolds in surreal, timeless tales.
Glimmers of mystique dance in the air,
As the ghosts of the past linger, whispering care,
Through valleys and mountains, their echoes resound,
In the history of Led Zeppelin, where dreams are unbound.
So let the legends linger, let stories be spun,
In the surreality of notes, where the journey’s begun,
A spiral of sound that forever in flight,
Led Zeppelin, eternal, in the canvas of night.
A Sarcastic Poem About Led Zeppelin
Oh, Led Zeppelin, what a sight to behold,
With rock star antics that never get old.
You strut around in tight pants and hair,
Like a peacock on stage, do we really care?
Jimmy with his guitar, all flashy and bright,
As if playing fast enough makes it alright.
Those solos go on—goodness, where’s the end?
Is it a song or an exercise to transcend?
And let’s not forget Plant’s wailing delight,
Is he singing or just practicing for a fight?
He shrieks and he howls, a banshee in flight,
Ah yes, another ballad about love at first sight.
Oh, and the lyrics—my, what a treat,
Mysterious nonsense that can’t be beat!
“Stairway to Heaven”—a classic, they say,
But really, did we need eight minutes of play?
The drumming of Bonham, a thunderous sound,
Is he drumming or just trying to shake the ground?
We get it, you’re talented—there’s no need to show
Like you’re auditioning to be in a one-man show.
But here’s the kicker, and I must admit,
You nailed the art of being a total git.
Yet somehow, through all of the chaos and strife,
You’ve managed to be the soundtrack of life.
So cheers to you, Led Zeppelin, rock gods of lore,
Keep prancing and preening, we’re begging for more.
Your legacy lives on, all sarcasm aside,
In a world full of noise, you’re still our wild ride!
The Jimmy Page Blues
(Verse 1)
Well, I woke up this mornin’, the sun was shinin’ bright,
Strummed my old six-string, thought of Jimmy’s light.
With fingers like a whirlwind, he painted tales so fine,
From the halls of London, to the stars that shine.
(Chorus)
Oh, Jimmy Page, you got that magic sound,
With every note you play, you turn this world around.
In the shadow of the Zeppelin, your legacy will stay,
Got that bluesy heart of rock, you’re the king of every sway.
(Verse 2)
From “Stairway to Heaven,” to that sweet “Whole Lotta Love,”
Like a force of nature, sent from above.
With that Les Paul moanin’, and that bow in your hand,
You took us on a journey, to a faraway land.
(Chorus)
Oh, Jimmy Page, you got that magic sound,
With every note you play, you turn this world around.
In the shadow of the Zeppelin, your legacy will stay,
Got that bluesy heart of rock, you’re the king of every sway.
(Outro)
So here’s to you, Jimmy, with the guitar in your grasp,
Every chord you played, man, it made the moment last.
Keep strummin’ those stories, let the music play on,
In the heart of rock and blues, your spirit’s never gone.
