February 21 at 9PM
Razorback, Triggerbliss, Return to Eden, Playphonics and Tension.
Here's an interesting little assignment
for you kiddies out there
from: http://www.saguijo.com/news.php
Wake up before noon. Forcibly CUT that umbilical cord between you and your MySpace/Friendster/Facebook/Multiply accounts (meaning turn off your PC). Dig out that outfit…yes…THAT outfit that only sees the light of day during annual family functions…buried in the back of your closet. Y'know. That little ensemble which genteel Metro Manila-n "society" deems "inoffensive." Dockers, Ralph Lauren, Bally…well…you get my drift. Comb…uh-huh…COMB your hair. Find your way into one of those "bigger is better dick-extension" sweatboxes that passes for a shopping establishment these days (Trinoma, Greenbelt, Mall of Asia, etc…). Dodge that snooty "host" at one of those chi-chi, fashionable, hipper-than-thou restaurants that are BOUND to be on the top floor of said hellhole. And, if you somehow manage to escape forcible eviction by the security staff, stride confidently and seat yourself next to the closest yuppie you can find. Or at least someone who looks like his idea of "good" Music is Stephen Bishop, James Blunt and Earth, Wind & Fire. Ask the sell-out this simple question:
"Pare…sorry for spilling your chick's Appletini on her Manolos…but gusto ko lang ma-know…pare…what do you think a typical Rock band LOOKS like…pare?"
No bullshit…but 9 times out of 10, you will PROBABLY get SOME variation of the following response:
"Dude/Pare/Bro…diba Rock bands look, like, really dirty? The singer…pare…he usually has no shirt on…tapos he has long, blonde hair and sings like a bakla, dude. Tapos the guitar player…he's always, like, in BLACK. As if he's going to a lamay or something. Tapos yung isa pang guitar player (the yuppie-in-question means the BASS player here), nakatayo lang. He just stands there like a post. Steady lang siya. And then the drummer. Mataba, pare. Too much Shakey's or something. His face…bro…like he's taking a massive tae or something. Pare."
Don't believe me? I DARE you to undertake the aforementioned "project." And the funny thing is…should any of us be REALLY surprised that we would get such an ACCURATE response? In this age of MTV/Channel V/MYX-infused randomness, our white-collared brothers and sisters were BOUND to stumble upon said image (in between channel surfing for Jack Johnson vids). They may not have necessarily understood what they were actually SEEING…but WE were never in doubt. The archetype. Paradigm. Prototype. Quintessential. The ideal. A bare-chested Robert Plant…golden god that he is…caterwauling into a microphone like some banshee of myth. The dark lord himself…Jimmy Page…dragging a violin bow over a Les Paul, Danelectro and/or Telecaster. The stoic John Paul Jones…a pillar of rhythm and musicality. And, of course, John "Bonzo" Bonham…pounding each beat into submission with his jackhammer drumming style. Once called "The New Yardbirds." Collectively (and more popularly) known as Led Zeppelin.
But how does one become THE "industry standard?"
Mention Jimmy Page and his group to any amateur Music historian out there and you will INEVITABLY be treated to a brief history of the band's formation. How, in the mid-Sixties, England was virtually held captive by a genre best described as "the Blues with an electric guitar." At the forefront of this movement was a band called The Yardbirds. Once led by a young Eric Clapton and, later, virtuoso Jeff Beck, Page initially began as a session bass player…graduating to the 6-string a couple of years later. How, as band members began to tire of the scene, Page dreamed of a "supergroup" which included, among others, The Who's Keith Moon and John Entwistle as drummer and bassist respectively. But Pete Townsend was not to be denied his rhythm section. What Page got instead was a motley assortment of like-minded rascals. Who, by hook or by crook, eventually became the most important band of the early to mid-70s. The rest is…well…wikipedia history.
Mention Jimmy Page and his group to any aspiring riff-meister out there and you will UNAVOIDABLY be forced to endure some long-winded-treatise about how he is the most influential guitarist…next only to Hendrix and Clapton. How he, single-handedly, took a Blues riff and infused it with SUCH a sense of viciousness…a deliberateness that compelled women the world over to wet their panties. How Jones, like Entwistle, played counterpoint HARMONY instead of the usual "thump-thump-thump" walking bassline beat. How Bonham beat those drums with a rage surpassed only by Moon. But whereas Moonie was about freedom…hitting everything in sight…Bonham was about pure, honest BRUTALITY. PLUS he could actually keep a beat! And Plant…the frontman to end ALL frontmen. His rich, sonorous tenor rising above it all…pointing his finger in the air…ever-so-subtly as he wailed… like some flaxen-haired Dionysus. Could there BE a more PERFECT combination of the elements?
Mention Jimmy Page and his group to any wide-eyed conspiracy theorist (or Christian fundamentalist psycho-freak) out there and you will INESCAPABLY have to suffer some patronizing spiel about how the entire band were Satanist. How Page, an unapologetic aficionado of the occult, was, in fact, a devil-worshipper. How he, along with Plant and Bonham (Jones, typically, couldn't be bothered) actually SOLD their souls in a Faustian-like manner for their success. How Page's mansion ONCE belonged to Aleister Crowley…England's then-leading practitioner of the black arts. And how the devil eventually came for his due. First with Page's travails with heroin addiction. Second…with Plant's 5-year-old son dying from a mysterious stomach virus. Third…with Plant's CONSTANT accidents…accidents that would leave him incapacitated and unable to tour for YEARS. And…finally…with Bonham's untimely death. Choking on his own vomit in 1980 after 16 successive shots of vodka…and a ham sandwich. It was a blow that was enough for Page to call time on the band that he, himself, had formed. I am no bible-thumper. But I listen to the first few bars of "Dazed and Confused"…to Page's SINISTER intro…and I wonder…
Mention Jimmy Page to some critic with his head up his ass…and you will, without a doubt, be lectured about how Led Zeppelin is "the first Heavy Metal band" in history. A label which, interestingly enough, Plant himself hotly refutes since about "a third of the songs" were acoustic. How without "The Zep," there would be no Thrash. No Death. No Metallica. No Megadeth. Anthrax. Pantera. Sepultura. A Perfect Circle. Midgets of Bodom. Or whatever the fuck those retards are called.
And as for me…well…I proselytized some time ago how guitar-playing should be about "feel." About caressing a riff into shape as you would a lady's every curve and crevice. You listen to Jimmy Page…and you will HEAR what the hell I am talking about. This is SEX Music…take my word for it. Unless you DON'T want your woman to get more than a little freaky in the sack. But if that's the case, then why are you even here? You wanna know WHY so many of us love this group on SOME level? Because this is the ESSENCE of Rock & Roll. "Rock & Roll." Think of those words. It was African-American…okay, BLACK…slang…for getting NASTY between the sheets. And you know what? In the last 40 years, only THESE four pasty white guys from England managed to embody this ethos. Listen to Jones and Bonham's unerring cadence. Over and over. Up and down. In and out. Listen to Plant's breathless yelping. Grunting. Panting. Listen to Page WAILING. Screaming. Gasping. Sweaty. Wet. Orgasmic. If you don't need a cold shower after that, I pity you. Led Zep? This isn't about "tenderness." This isn't about "making love." This is FUCKING. Set to Music. 'Nuff said.
Because Rock Music? You can analyze it. You can intellectualize it. You can give it some high-minded meaning. But, when all is said and done, this Music we have all come to adore…IS that simple. Reckless abandon with a heaping of passion. Passion…on a certain level…is SOMEWHAT threatening. And always…ALWAYS…violent. Dangerous. Ready to break loose at the coyest of glances. The sway of a hip. That stolen glance. The casual toss of that raven-black hair. REGARDLESS of what society tells us to do. You don't float gently down into passion. You CRASH into it. You fall head-over heels. You emerge from it a bloody mess. If at all. It is Rimbaud. It is Shelley. It is Lord-fuckin'-Byron. And…yes, my friends…it WILL get sloppy. But who says that can't be fun in itself? So I say…let yourself go. If only for one night. In this spirit, we are PROUD to invite you to "Whole Lotta Love saGuijo: A Tribute To Led Zeppelin." On February 21 at 9PM, be prepared to be blown away by the likes of Razorback, Triggerbliss, Return to Eden, Playphonics and Tension. We would love to see you there.
http://www.tvguide.com/News/Kyle-Greek-Lincoln-1002336.aspx?loc=interstitialskip