It was not so easy waiting two days to listen to the companion disc to the first album. But I made myself do it because self-discipline is part of the Music, of all the Arts, and of Magick as well. And because it's going to be a long, long time till the next three remasters come out.
As before, this report was written as I listened to the music.
Led Zeppelin I Companion Disc - Live at the Olympia
I love that the show opened this way. In your face showing off how good these guys are. Bam bam. Bam bam.
Dammit, my speakers are ruined.
Robert Plant’s voice so young – he’ll get even better than this later years but he's already there, on the top.
Recording’s a little uneven – sometimes JPJ’s bass is right in your face, sometimes it’s Robert. Who cares.
JP’s guitar so clean. Still reflecting the tightness and technical excellence of his session playing, but he’s starting to break loose. Not like later, but you can hear him being pulled off into the ozone.
HOW does Robert still have a voice at all today? What awesome lungs. Seriously.
It is so amazing that JP could make himself sound like multiple guitars without benefit of a studio.
Do people even realize how different this music was? That the guitar wasn’t just an accompaniment to the vocals anymore? All bets were off!
Live recordings back then – not such great quality, but you've got the loosy-goosy freedom of a live performance that a studio recording never really has. Magick in it all, just different, because one’s a capture of a practiced, perfect ritual, the other is a messy Work in progress.
I love how the audience responds. Lucky dogs.
The boys were like elite marathon runners – putting out maximum effort for miles and miles of music.
How can a human being do that on a guitar? The guitar isn't a musical instrument any more but instead is a physical extension of the soul’s desire.
So strange hearing a quiet audience at the first notes of D&C!
It is 84° in my house and yet I just shivered.
It seems to me that D&C is a completely different song every version of I hear. That time in Paris still takes place somewhere far, far away from this planet, though.
There I go again. Goosebumps.
Bonham so in tune with the music. Not merely a rhythm keeper but a music creator along with the others.
Whatever gave Robert the brilliant idea to sing counterpoint to the guitar? Simply beyond extraordinary.
Sexual assault with sound.
This is crazy-making music. Crazy is good.
Oh the voice of that guitar – that crawling, seeking, huge, nasty thing.
This is so not the studio!
Get your mind out of the gutter. Not mere sex – it’s so much more. Push the music, push life, push reality. Spread the wings. Fly to the sun and beyond.
Like telling the story a new way each time but in the language of emotion made sound.
No announcer butting in! I automatically cringed but it wasn't there!
How brave, how cheeky, how much confidence and joy to try a new note, a new pause, a new rhythm, a new chord, a new progression in front of witnesses. And pulling it off.
Oh I surely did trash the speakers two days ago. Must replace can’t go on with them like this, but no stopping the music.
Can blues be any darker, slower, richer, sleazier? Can anyone survive such exposure of the soul?
I forget I’m listening to a voice and a guitar. They weave in and out so perfectly, I hear a musical message. My heart follows willingly, not even caring where I'm being taken.
No wonder some people think there’s something evil in this music. I actually know of a few who could only blush if they really listened to what’s going on here. But they can’t hear what it is, only what they fear. A pity.
Geez – you have to just laugh with joy at some of this. Unbelievable. And it’s just crappy blown speakers! Of course I’m laughing!
Ain't you never been shook? Oh!
How BIG they were. Filling the heavens with joyful sound!
Drums and voice were the original music. Yet all alone Bonzo made music with drums. Not just rhythm – he made music. He brought down the lightning and the thunder and then he mocked the gods with their own pounding footsteps as they strode across the quivering earth hunting for what he'd stolen from them. We love him because he had no fear. Hearing him shout as he hammers it out – where is the fire to throw our sacrifices on, to dance around, naked and sweating?
How Many More Times can I be blown away by this music? It doesn't matter. I willingly throw myself on the flames.
Love how there’s a touch of Whole Lotta Love snuck in there towards the end.
Can you believe they’d go out and do this night after night?
Why in the world do they call what these guys did “playing”? It’s as serious as a heart attack. Oh yeah, Art Attack.