By Linda Elinoff
March 25, 1970. Almost spring, almost the end of high school. I had a boyfriend, Steve, the organ player for a popular local band. Tommy Bolin used to be in the band until he left to join Zephyr and later flamed out into rock history. Steve was really into Jimi Hendrix, Pentangle, and the Electric Flag. He drove my parents crazy because he had really long hair and dressed like Hendrix, his idol. I liked Hendrix too, plus the Jefferson Airplane, The Rolling Stones, and many others. But everybody was into Led Zeppelin. They were the baddest and the best, and they were finally coming to Denver. I wanted to take Steve to the concert as a birthday present.
No one had known less than two years before that Zeppelin had opened for Vanilla Fudge in Denver, because opening bands weren't announced. I didn't have my drivers license then, so the only concerts I could go to had to be during the day and accessible by bus. I missed out on the shows at the Family Dog, which had closed down by 1970. I saw the Beach Boys, for instance (hey, it was a free concert), but I missed Big Brother & The Holding Company, so I wasn't about to miss Zeppelin. From the time Led Zeppelin played on my stereo for the first time, I was hooked. This was undoubtedly the best band I had ever heard, and there was some serious competition. Then "II" arrived and blew everybody even further into hyperspace. We were dying to see them in person.
Robert Plant during the spring 1970 tour, onstage at the L.A. Forum on March 27, 1970. (Photo by Chuck Boyd)
Feyline Productions brought all the national bands in, and when they announced that Led Zeppelin was coming, several thousand young people in Denver started partying. I went to get the tickets, which were about $6.00, and couldn't believe that they were almost sold out. I heard about these instant sellouts in places like Los Angeles and New York, but this had only happened once here before, when the Beatles played at Red Rocks in 1964. I was lucky to score two Zeppelin tickets in the balcony for the Denver Coliseum, the largest venue in the city. The Coliseum was built for circuses and livestock shows, and unfortunately made most music sound like it was rattling around in a tin can, but we heard just about every band there. Red Rocks was only open in the summer, and after a tear gas melee at a Jethro Tull concert it was closed to rock shows for several years.
We arrived the evening of Wednesday, march 25, and it was already a mob scene. We walked past hundreds of ticketless people who were clamoring to get in, and strolled around the arena for a while checking out the scene before we took our seats. It seemed like every young person in Colorado was there, wearing their fringed leather jackets and bell bottoms. The air was thick with pot smoke. Bands always made their appearances late in those days, giving the audience plenty of time to smoke several more joints and/or for the psychedelics to take effect and whip everyone into a frenzy. So by the time the band appeared, it was usually instant chaos, and this was no exception. They came out and Robert Plant asked if we were feeling alright. You could almost hear the collective smoke exhalation before we all yelled, "Yeah!"
The band dove into "We're Gonna Groove." You could hear the drums pounding and echoing off the walls and Jimmy Page played the fastest guitar licks we had ever heard. The song reached a screaming climax and the beat changed into the blues as they segeued into "I Can't Quit You Baby." Jimmy was playing so many notes, it was almost too much for my brain to keep up with. That was the first moment I became a blues fanatic-it was the most amazing thing I had ever heard. Steve and I kept looking at each other and laughing. Robert introduced, "Mr. Jimmy Page, guitar." He was a monster that night. After the rolling drumbeat closed the song, Robert said that the band had played their very first gig in the United States eighteen months earlier in this coliseum, and it was great to be back. We couldn't have agreed more.
Then he introduced "Dazed & Confused" and the band launched into a really
scary version of the song. Robert sang a call and response with Jimmy's
guitar and then Page pulled out a violin bow and began jamming with it. It
sounded really weird and creepy and fascinating at the same time. I'd never
heard anything like it. There was a lot of feedback, then John Bonham broke
in and took it up to a breakneck speed with Robert imitating the guitar
shrieks. Dazed and confused indeed. . .
"Heartbreaker!" The audience recognized it from the first two notes and
went nuts. Hey fellas have you heard the news, Zeppelin's back in town.
Jimmy played really clean during this one, building up a lot of tension
before he crashed into the middle section, played a little bit of Bach's
"Bouree," and jammed with the John Paul Jones. Robert and Bonzo came back
in and carried it to the end. Killer.
There was a long pause, and then they played "Since I've Been Loving You," a wonderful soulful blues number new to the audience. It was a searing, heartfelt plea from a man to a woman. Almost made me feel sorry for the poor guys, but, nah, they were way too good looking. This was a time when boys would get kicked out of school for having hair longer than their collars, and Jimmy and Robert alone had enough hair for ten people. It was way radical for the time. I thought, "Boy, and my parents think Steve's hair is long. . ." Many people's perspectives were changed that night.
John Paul Jones started playing a beautiful, high pitched organ solo, which segeued into "Thank You," one of the most romantic songs every recorded. My favorite part is where Robert sings, "For you to me are the only one," and he hit all the high notes perfectly. Jimmy played a gorgeous counterpoint and the whole band just soared. I was in heaven. There was another long pause, and Bonzo broke into "Moby Dick," the obligatory drum solo. I went to the bathroom, and he was still at it when I came out. I got a soda and some peanuts, ate them slowly, walked around. Walked some more. Still blasting away. . . endless. The audience liked it anyway.
Bonzo playing "Moby Dick" in Denver, March 25, 1970. The original newspaper caption for this shot read, "His long hair flying, the aggregation's drummer rattles out a solo routine. (Photo by John G. White, Denver Post)
There was some more jamming, and then Robert introduced the band members. The audience went crazy when he said, "On lead guitar, Jimmy Page." Jimmy went right into a locomotive version of "How Many More Times," and Robert wailed and hit the echo pedal a lot. The audience started clapping along, and the beat rolled on. One of the best bass lines ever recorded, even if it is one of the simplest. The song jammed on for over half and hour, with "The Lemon Song," "The Hunter," "Boogie Woogie" and a bunch of other old blues songs mixed in. I think I even heard a little bit of "Bolero." Robert stretched out the tension to the max when he sang, "Cause I've got you in the sights. . . of my. . . lovin'. . . gun," having the audience sing the words after him. Then Jimmy came back in with the melody line and the band crashed into the rest of the song. We were practically rabid by now. The energy was unbelievable.
Just when we could barely take it anymore, they ripped into "Whole Lotta Love." It started out normally and then Jimmy started going crazy with the theramin and feedback and it got weird. Not a negative, dissonant weird like the Grateful Dead could sometimes get, but a real interesting melodic weird. Back into basic "Whole Lotta Love" like nothing ever happened. Robert did a sing-along with each word of, "Baby, way down inside, you need it. . . Love." The drums were practically smoking, and the audience went completely ballistic.
When they came out for the encore, everyone in the place was on their feet, whistling, dancing in the aisles, rushing up to the stage. No one even tried to stop us. Led Zeppelin was even better than the hype.
Write Hugh Jones, Proximity Editor:
mrprox@mindspring.com