All Led Zeppelin songs are about either sex, heroin, or wizards—not one of them about dessert, sorry—so don't expect a fluffy, eggy treat. The first and last words of the song are “drop down”—a mournfully pleaded request to a nameless woman, or “mama.” The image I get is Robert Plant walking through the countryside, looking like, you know, Robert Plant, his shirt open and all, and then he comes to a house and is greeted by this woman whose husband, a hard worker and good provider, has just gone to work all day in the fields. He will be too tired come evening to satisfy his wife in bed, so our hero provides that service. I do not like the wanky sounding electric clavinet, which sounds great in, say, a Stevie Wonder song, but here is annoying. What I focus on in this song, as with a lot of Led Zeppelin songs, are the drums, which sound like no other drums, and are my favorite drums in all of rock music. I love some Led Zeppelin songs, can't stand others, and then there're ones like this where I just listen to the drums and think about how much happier I'd be eating some actual custard pie at a country diner than getting chased pants-less through a field by an angry brute with a pitchfork.
The “Vinyl” page is gone, but you can still read Ray Speen's record reviews (LPs & 45s) on his long-existing site: DJ FARRAGINOUS.
This new “Songs” page is reviews of songs picked randomly. I have devised several methods of random selection of songs from: my record and CD collections, my computer, the Internet, various radio stations and shows, and even grocery stores and restaurants. We have songs coming at us all day long (did you ever notice that?) and it's about time to start asking some questions.
Songs will appear here as they drift in from the ether.