So yesterday I almost wanted to play again, especially with my new professionally-colored hair making me feel better, but playing is still so emotional for me that I can’t let my soul go there without tears forming. But I want to play. And what I want to play are Zeppelin riffs, probably following on the heels of seeing this really cool Zep tribute band with all girls (and a really good guitar player girlie at that) this summer. I’ve had Whole Lotta Love, the beginning riff that is, in my head non-stop so much it’s covering over any thoughts of any other song, a good thing when that terrible song by Selena Gomez about how she wants to look good for you repeats over and over, and more over and over, on the radio. I cannot change the radio station fast enough on that one, and the song is number one on the pop charts, a phenomenon I don’t understand.

Couple my mental track of Whole Lotta Love with Friday’s lunch with my latest twenty-something co-worker during which I mentioned the Van Halen concert and my love for that band, for rock in general, and an interesting thing happened. In that lunch conversation, the twenty-something-er thought he would stump me with a Van Halen question. His question, more a directive actually: name every member of Van Halen from the start to the present. Seriously? Way too easy! But on the topic of Zep, which we stayed on for a bit because he knew a few more of Zep’s songs than the one Van Halen song he knew (Jump, perhaps Hot for Teacher, but he wasn’t sure), he asked a question I cannot fathom not knowing the answer to. That question: why did Zeppelin break up? I said the answer, a quick answer: “because the drummer died.” I said the year was 1980, and although I didn’t really talk about it, that question made me picture it: “it” — the sadness that Bonzo’s death was for Zeppelin fans. I told the new twenty-something-er, from a trivia standpoint — the subject of that conversation — I knew for sure the death was 1980, but I said I couldn’t remember the actual date. I thought it was in December. While acknowledging the fact that everyone knows Zep songs and nodding as I hummed the opening riff of Whole Lotta Love, the twenty-somthing-er laughingly said it is bad that I don’t remember the actual date; he joked that I was holding back on purpose. Oh, but it’s in my head, that’s what I thought, it’s in me. I kept on humming the song inside too, over and over, and more over and over. And I wanted to pick up a guitar.

Yesterday, I had to satisfy my mental craving for Whole Lotta Love, so I opened Youtube to play Whole Lotta Love. Lo and behold, one of Youtube’s suggested videos of the day was this black and white Dior commercial I watched a lot last year, with its soundtrack being the Whole Lotta Love opening riff, punctuated by Bonzo’s percussion. The commercial features a really cool classic German car (love those). It features fashionable people looking rebellious in a pretty setting (love that). It’s fashionable, high end fashionable, without being too much or too inaccessible. It’s artistic. It rocks. It’s totally me. In fact, I’d love it if someone would take these Dior videos (there are a few of them) and loop then to the entirety of Whole Lotta Love. I’d watch that every day. But I digress. After that, I played tutorials on the song. I played Jimmy Page talking about the song in the video series he has with Jack Black. I then listened to a ton of The Pretty Reckless, which in my view is very Zeppelin-influenced, plus, the benefit for me, a bit girlie, especially when I go all dance-party in the house practicing my version of a little rock jump at the start of their song Absolution (probably harkening back to that girl Zep tribute band thing that is in the back-tracks of my mind too.) Now just try to get that visual out of your heads people! I satisfied my Zep craving, my Whole Lotta Love craving in particular, by immersion therapy, Whole Lotta Love style.

Despite all of this Zep influence this weekend, today, I wanted to write about a Van Halen radio commercial I heard last night; I will, when I can find the commercial, but in looking for that commercial, I ran across a news story, the final piece in the Zep fabric of this weekend. The piece commemorated Bonzo’s death, and still having “December” in my head from Friday’s conversation with the twenty-something-er, and to satisfy the lingering trivia question, but out of that distorted memory, distorted so much I believed the article to be old, or early, or something not timely, I looked at the article for the date. I read the story, not taking in the date. The article gave the facts of Bonzo’s death; it acknowledged that Bonzo’s death was 35 years ago. I had to look at the article for the date about three times to “get” it. Seriously, I was convinced of my “December” mistake. The date? The date is September 25, and in the creepy that all of this is, September 25 was the very date I had the conversation with the twenty-something-er, the very date my brain replayed the thoughts of how I, and millions of other Zep fans, felt when we knew Zep would be no more, no more because the band lost its drummer. Without knowing any of this, I then had “yesterday” — Whole Lotta Love immersion day.

So, today, slightly late, or perhaps exactly on-time given what brought me to this, I call out to Bonzo. I say thanks for being a part of my musical influences, a big part. I’m not alone either. There are other girls out there too who would change the radio station on Selena Gomez’ retarded song, who play in Zep tribute bands, who like Taylor Momsen write songs in the Zeppelin theme, and there are lesser girls, still influenced though, who practice little rock star jumps in their house even though nobody will ever see them. But I don’t want to celebrate Bonzo’s death; I don’t want to celebrate the occurrence of that date … because that will always be forever sad for me; instead I want to celebrate something better. How about this? How about celebrating the influence? How about celebrating the song Whole Lotta Love — a song so perfect and so timeless even twenty-something-ers know it, a song so timeless, so raw, so unbelievably sexy it’s downright fashionable. Yes, house of Dior, it is fashionable!

And with my new hair-do, and with almost constant Whole Lotta Love influences, influences tailed just for me, like my friend’s question, like the Youtube suggested video of the day, I might just take a stab at playing. Perhaps Mr. Bonham is helping me. Perhaps he’s having a nice conversation with my mother, or knowing my mother that would be in the reverse (Mama I hope you had a nice lunch with Bonzo), about how I need to get back on the proverbial horse. Perhaps I’ll hear his drums in my head. Oh… I’m close now. I’m close. Thanks Whole Lotta Love; thanks Mr. John Bonham. I really do want …