Letter To Jimmy Page: Happy Birthday
Resident Curmudgeon Chuck Myers is back, and he’s returned with a special message for one of the brightest jewels in the Queen’s sac…
Happy birthday, Jimmy Page. I mean that sincerely, because you’re one of the greatest guitar players to ever bless the world of rock music. Sure, back when I was 19 and living in L.A. and striving to be in one of those bands like CoxxRokkitt or Pussykatt Sleaze or StĂĽpĂŻdfĂĽxx, I lost sight of your brilliance due to a myopic obsession with douchebags named Yngwie or Joe. But I found my way back. I am your prodigal son, Jimmy, and your sloppy-ass fretwork showed me the way home.
The problem is, I learned a lot when I was out wandering through the dark world of bad metal. For instance, I learned that the best players in the world can speak volumes through just a couple of notes, but the guys who sound like a coked-out bumblebee usually contribute nothing to a song. I learned that you don’t need leather trousers or big hair to be larger than life. I learned that all the posturing and props and pointy guitars can’t mask the arrhythmic heartbeat of a soulless band.
And I learned that guitar solos are evil.
Now, let’s be clear about something. I’m not talking about a short break in the middle of a song. Those are generally stupid and pointless, but they’re rarely evil. I’m talking about the 15- or 20-minute interlude, where everyone in the band walks backstage and has a smoke or eats a Tofurkey sandwich. Everyone, that is, except for the guitarist, who stands beneath a single blue spotlight and wows the audience with his technical proficiency and his (cough) soulful chops. Read on…
It all started with “Dazed and Confused.” Sure, the violin bow was cool. I still remember hearing about it from my friend’s older brother. “Dude, he played with a fucking violin bow! It was fucking insane, dude! It was like watching fucking Beethoven, but if Beethoven kicked ass! And took names!” It took many years before I realized the three words that were conspicuously absent from my friend’s brother’s assessment: “it,” “sounded,” and “great.”
Because, Jimmy, it didn’t sound great. It sounded like ass. It was a novelty. Your solos were long-winded, self-indulgent jerk-off sessions that contributed absolutely nothing to the music. Your solos weren’t soulful explorations of the dark recesses of your heart, they were boring blues riffs regurgitated for a bunch of stoned white kids. Your bow, Jimmy? It was nothing more than a big dick that you stroked, by yourself, until you came.
You made us all sit there and watch. Hell, with How the West Was Won and the remastered The Song Remains the Same, you’re still making us sit and watch. You’re like our “funny uncle” who does dirty things at Thanksgiving dinner, and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it. Bad touch, Jimmy. Bad touch.
If it’d ended there, I could forgive you. But it didn’t end. You started a horrible trend. All those axe-slingin’ fools in the ’80s followed you like lemurs. That guitar solo by Jimmy Crespo during Aerosmith’s tour for Rock in a Hard Place? That was your fault. The miserable wanking of C.C. DeVille? You own that. The existence of the Michael Schenker Group? James Patrick Page, you should be ashamed of yourself.
And it’s not just guitarists who followed you down the slippery slope. I want back the 15 minutes of my life that Michael Anthony stole from me during the summer of 1986. Yes, it’s my fault that I paid to see Van Hagar, but that bass solo was your fault. What Michael Anthony did with a Jack Daniels bottle full of iced tea wasn’t much different than what you did with a violin bow and the blues: You both spit all over your fans.
I truly do send you good wishes on this special day, because your gifts to the world outweigh the musical plague you unleashed. But I kind of hope somebody buys you one of those corny Hallmark cards that plays a song when you open it, and I hope your card plays about 300 hours of Yngwie solos.
Happy birthday, Jimmy. Now put down the fucking bow and eat some cake.
chuck- that was clever, articulate, well-written… really just top notch, HQ stuff. Seriously, I’m not at all bothered by your brazen, insolent little attempt to stab through the heart of the holy-high-priest of hard rock. Great work!
Actually, i cant lie.. there is a special place in hell for anyone who’d even dare to mention CC DeVille in the same paragraph as Jimmy Page. You, sir, should be ashamed of yourself! Your inner 15 year old just died, chuck. You just killed him. Why dont you go jump in the Volvo mini-van, pop in the new Eagles album, hit up the Starbucks and think about your little sacrilegious outburst over a mocha latte.
no, seriously though, good job. well done!
Hilarious piece, Chuck…if you’re gonna talk shit about a legend, that’s definitely the way to do it!
I can beat Cliffs of Dover on Guitar Hero.
Hilarious! But no matter what - you can’t beat Jimmy when you want to practice air guitar at top volume.
Ha! How bold of you to present this to a Phish-loving base, cuz I believe they dig some soloing!
I gotta say that what’s worse, is that Page also adversely created a new style that we see a lot today that allows guitarists to never even learn how to solo, and who play chords right through the break. It’s a reactionary cynicism to the ‘over-indulgence’ that people see in 70s and 80s bands, and even jam bands, and their desire to set themselves apart from those bands to prove that their tastes are much more refined and modern. YAWN.
Sorry to rant…back to my Thin Lizzy!
And P.S.- Don’t make Jimmy carry all the weight for Yngwie. A lot of that is Paganini’s fault.
Wow, you’re just as venomous as I was during my Clapton tirades. This is what I will add, because your piece was applicably nuanced. Jimmy Page worked well for what he was in a very good band — I totally dig Zep — but his guitar technique was overwrought (which is to say, overproduced — by himself no less) and it’s hard to imagine one more guilty of pilfering others than him. How do you splice three solos into Stairway and have guitar wannabes play it like they own it, but you can’t reproduce it yourself live? Eddie Phillips of the obscure Creation taught him the bow trick; but listening to Eddie, you’d a thought he was the devil down in Georgia with that thing. It’s a key element to their studio output, not some live novel schtick. Which is all really very sad in the end that the thieves and maggots of the guitar world (Clapton, Page, SRV) have been given undeserved status for what amounts to, in fact, one-sided playing.
you are all dead to me. one hour. mad hatter, you get two.
Wow MH, that’s rough!
hey clowns, i would never waste my time writing about something that consumes me with jealousy. i leave that for the clowns.
[...] Did you miss Jimmy Page’s Birthday? [...]
You guys are lost. Why does Led Zep still out sell and knock current artists off the charts even with old rehashing albums? Because Jimmy is great and the band is great, the world loves them…period. 20% of the population has above average intelligence, 20% has below, 60% are average, you guys must be in the lower 20%. Get a real life outside of the net and the media, they’re both cesspools!
Happy B-Day 2U Happy B-Day 2U Happy b-day Dear Jiiiimmeeeeeeeee Happy Birthday to you. I once heard that Jimmy page liked HR Geiger so here you go..love you,mean it! SuziQ.
well I just tried to send a B-Day card of Geiger but it obviously didn’t work…love you Jimmy wish you were mine!!! Im exactly 20 years younger then you I’m a Scorpio/Dragon and play a mean stereo. blue eyes. long brown curly hair. 5′5″ 120lbs. worth my weight in gold. like my big heart. personal advert meant for Jimmy’s eyes only. HUGS & KISSY’S