The Bookworm: 'Led Zeppelin: The Biography'

Led Zeppelin: The Biography, by Bob Spitz. 673 pages. Penguin Press. 2021.

But Led Zeppelin had thrown him an emotional curve. Their songs hit him deep. There was something dark and sensual about them, something strangely provocative in their nature. They rolled over him, allowing his imagination to run wild. (p. 2)

After studiously reading all the other books The Librarian gifted me, I earned my reward: reading Bob Spitz’s Led Zeppelin: The Biography.

And what an amazing reward it is!

Led Zeppelin is an all-encompassing account of the rise, rule, and fall of my favorite rock band, the most famous and richest band in the land at its peak in the mid-seventies. From its conception as a sound in the mind of guitarist Jimmy Page, through the decadence and debauchery that spawned a stereotype and mockery, to the early and tragic death of drummer John Bonham and events afterward, Spitz tells it all in detail. He seemingly leaves no studio session, trashed hotel room, or empty bottle of booze unaccounted. It is definitive and shocking. This is the whole story of Led Zeppelin, all the highs and lows—and it was a great pleasure to read.

I have loved Led Zeppelin since high school. Their CDs were in constant rotation on my boombox and were a favorite soundtrack to drinking sessions in Mervgotti’s basement. However, despite loving the band’s music, I was shamefully ignorant about its formation and genesis, did not know much more about the band members than their names. Needless to say, Led Zeppelin was informative, enlightening, and very entertaining.

Spitz spends much of the first 100 pages or so outlining Page’s upbringing and development into a guitar god, from his first foray into music in a skiffle band to a sound pioneer, a member of The Yardbirds, and a session musician. I expected Spitz to give the other members—Bonham, Robert Plant, and John Paul Jones—a similar treatment, but their backgrounds are glossed over in comparison. I thought it was unfair at first, but as the book helped me realize, the story and development of Led Zeppelin is the story and development of Jimmy Page. He was the mastermind; Led Zeppelin was his idea, his band, his baby—which is one of the more surprising, and sad, things I learned from reading the book. I had always assumed Led Zeppelin was a lot like other bands: a formation of musicians who found each other through serendipity and their mutual love of music. It was not. Instead, “Led Zeppelin was less a single creative entity than a collection of musicians performing distinct roles” (p. 250). Regarding the relationship between Page and Plant, Spitz writes, “They never really pursued friendship. It was strictly professional between them” (p. 409). Page had an idea, and Plant, Jones, and Bonham helped him make it a reality. It made me sad to learn they were not friends and often did not get along.

But what a reality Led Zeppelin became. Regardless of their connections to one another, the foursome made amazing music. Led Zeppelin put words to how I feel about the band’s music, the effect it has on me and many others. The quote at the top of the post says it all. Led Zeppelin hits me deep; they are dark, sensual, and strangely provocative. Spitz also describes their music as “rip-roaring, propulsive, feral, uncompromising” (p. 176). Sounds about right.

The writing is addictively good. The intro is infectious; it was a breath of fresh air after slogging through In Praise. Parts of the book are entrancing; Spitz waxes poetic when outlining the development and recording of each album, especially the officially untitled fourth album (I always call it Led Zeppelin IV). Spitz’s passion for the material is evident on every page; there is an obvious reverence for the music and era. However, though the book put words to my feelings for the band’s music, some of the musical terms and descriptions were over my head or hard to follow. I assume it is because I was never a musician.

Spitz pieces together the band’s story through interviews he conducted himself with band members and their entourage of confidants, employees, roadies, and groupies and an extensive archive of sources, allowing him to provide minute details about seemingly everything—the good, the bad, the ugly, and the very bad and very ugly.

Alongside chronicling its virtuosity, Spitz recounts the affect that fame and fortune had on the band. He describes it as “heedless hedonism” (p. 418). “This wasn’t simply rock ‘n roll anymore,” he writes. “It was crazy excess. The drugs and violence had taken over” (p. 409). The book is full of juicy revelations (for me, at least) and tales of total debauchery. The stories Spitz tells are both interesting and disturbing, and the members’ hedonistic behavior makes me think twice about listening to and liking them. Though their music is awesome, they acted like assholes—except John Paul Jones, who seemed to have a level head and did not indulge himself most of the time.

Relatedly, all were family men with wives and children. However, not much attention is given to their families and the affect that long tours and separate lives had on their loved ones in the UK, though Spitz does recounts the struggle and exasperation of Peter Grant’s wife.

Also sad to learn was that the band’s downfall was a yearslong train wreck of inactivity, complacency, and substance abuse. They were their own worst enemy. It seems like addiction robbed LZ fans of multiple records, especially a “hard-driving rock album” (p. 556) that Page was planning at the time of Bonham’s death. Tragedy also played a major role, especially for Plant—things I did not know before. All of it is a testament to the book’s authoritative quality, that it includes everything one wants to know and more.

Led Zeppelin is an amazing read, a well-deserved treat for myself. If you are a fan of Led Zeppelin, I recommend treating yourself to it as well.