what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?
would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?
"Jimmy Page, bent over his guitar and straining for unknown notes, listening hard because he’s right there in the middle of that Led Zeppelin wall of sound, sweat oozing torrential down his face, and dripping off the ends of that long wavy hair down onto the guitar and one expects that guitar to fizz and steam because it’s so near boiling point."
- From the March 28, 1969 London concert review (Record Mirror)
Jimmy Page - Lucifer Rising (Complete Session Remastered)
"On the Spring Equinox 2012, the title music for Lucifer Rising and Other Sound Tracks was premiered and released.
The title music, along with other musical pieces recorded at my home studio in the early Seventies, have been revisited, remixed and released for the first time.
This is a musical diary of avant-garde compositions and experiments, one of which was to appear on the film 'Lucifer Rising'.”
I can’t believe the cards are actually starting to turn in our favor 😫 Robert doing stairway out of nowhere, Jimmy performing live using the guitar that he always plays stairway on 😏
I bought a cash bank (that has to be broken open to get money out) to save up just incase they ever decide to do one more show because I am NOT missing that for the world idc if I blow my savings or college money, it can be replaced 😫
40,000 years ago, early humans painted hands on the wall of a cave. This morning, my baby cousin began finger painting. All of recorded history happened between these two paintings of human hands. The Nazca Lines and the Mona Lisa. The first TransAtlantic flight and the first voyage to the Moon. Humanity invented the wheel, the telescope, and the nuclear bomb. We eradicated wild poliovirus types 2 and 3. We discovered radio waves, dinosaurs, and the laws of thermodynamics. Freedom Riders crossed the South. Hippies burned their draft cards. Countless genocides, scientific advancements, migrations, and rebellions. More than a hundred billion humans lived and died between these two paintings—one on a sheet of paper, and one on the inside of a cave. At the dawn of time, ancient humans stretched out their hands. And this morning, a child reached back.
Next Chapter is coming very soon. Here's the 'dinner' playlist - it's a long, leisurely dinner 😁 Some of these tunes have a place later on in the story.
[This is quite long. . .sorry. . .will try to make future chapters shorter]
“Okay, ready.”
He turned to find her leaning against the door jamb, much more like her earlier self. Something about the way she stood, the look on her face inflamed his already heightened sense of attachment to her.
“Shall we off, love?”
“Yes, Jimmy, let’s.”
He turned her in the doorway, his arm corralling her waist to speed her through the entranceway and to the street, hoping to avoid any additional adverse reactions.
“Okay?” He gazed down at her to confirm all was well when they reached the street.
“Yes, Mr. Page,” she shook her head in amusement.
As they trekked up Thames Street, she felt a slide of his hand and then the pressure of his fingers at the back of her neck. “Cheeky,” he hummed in her ear before resting his wrist on her shoulder, hand casually dangling as they walked. He was relaxed but preoccupied.
Maybe I have met her before – in passing.
The effect of the photo that Perry handed him at Tower House so many months ago surged back and an echo of the pang that accompanied it.
Perhaps she recalls such a thing and just hasn’t mentioned it. . .hmmm. . .This may be a good time to pose the question.
“So, I meant to ask before, Jane. Did you ever see the band?”
“Yes, I have. I’ve seen you play many more times, though.”
“Really? How so?”
This might solve that riddle. . .
“Well, my very first live rock concert was one my parents took me to along with a bunch of their friends at the Anderson for the Yardbirds. I think it must have been. . .mmm. . .1968. My parents were huge fans and we were visiting the City. I think we went to New York for that very reason.”
“Ha! Another surprising item about your family.”
“Yeah, I told you they are a story.”
“So, you liked the music, then?”
“I was hooked. Of course, I’d heard the music around the house, but to see it - hear it – live - was life-changing. Really. I’m not kidding. I think that was partly why I took the courses I did in law school, you know, to be an entertainment lawyer. And you! I remember Keith Reif said something to the effect that you were a sorcerer with magic fingers. I took him at his word. White Summer was magical.”
“Thank you, love, but I’m not fishing for compliments. Just curious.”
“Oh! I know that, Jimmy,” she said nudging against him playfully. “And then when I read that you were forming Zep, my mission was to see the new band.”
“And did you see us early on?
“Baltimore in February 1969. . .but I have to admit, I was tripping my ass off, so what I remember is pretty fragmented and possibly imagined, you know.”
“Ha, ha! Understood but what do you remember?”
“About six or seven of us went to see Vanilla Fudge, but one of the guys and I were really excited to see Zep. The first album had been playing on, I think it was WHFS, an underground FM station around DC that we could pick up at night if the weather was good,” she chuckled. “He and I were absolutely blown away.”
“The FM stations were perfect for our music. They were the reason everything exploded for us that year. . . that and underground papers. . . and word of mouth, to be sure.”
“I had gone to quite a few concerts at the Civic Center by that time and made a good friend on the box office staff, so we were able to finagle the second row. I couldn’t sit still once you guys started so I moved to the edge of the stage – which they still let us do then – off to the side - your side and hung on for dear life. I believe that Robert said something to me when he flitted to that side of the stage. . .but who knows,” she snickered. “I remember parts of As Long As I Have You, Dazed, White Summer, and You Shook Me, but that’s pretty much it. I distinctly recall you, though. I thought your guitar was singing - just to me. I mean, it was a voice, a persona, all to itself in my trippy hippie mind. By the time the Fudge came on, I was a puddle on the floor. The only thing I remember from them is the organ vibrating whatever I was sitting on. So that’s my embarrassing story about the first time I saw the band.”
“I imagine we might have been a bit intense on acid,” he chuckled.
“Ha! That’s an understatement! And I saw part of the gig there in 1970 but I was leaving that evening for New York for an internship interview. I managed to make it to Bonzo’s solo, but my ride insisted that we had to leave Baltimore that night, right then, so that was that. We had a big argument in the lobby, I mean, what the fuck difference would an hour or so make. But anyway, I didn’t see you again until I was in Atlanta. I caught The Firm and the Outrider tour. And then you and Robert twice in the 90s.”
“That’s quite a lot more than I expected. Did we ever meet at any of those gigs? Were you backstage for any of them?”
“No, sadly we didn’t meet. Even totally out of it, I would not have forgotten that. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, love, as I said. Ah, here we are.”
They had arrived at the Great House at Sonning, a large inn with a green lawn sweeping down to the river’s edge. As they entered the restaurant, Jimmy was greeted warmly.
“Afternoon, Jim, Miss.” The young man behind the desk nodded his greeting. “Your table is ready. You know the way, right? Someone will be with you in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Mark. Yes, I know the way. Jane?” He swept his arm in the direction of the French doors off to their right indicating the way for her.
They stepped out onto a patio with a paved walk leading down the lawn to the river. At the end of the path was a line of cabanas, each enclosed with a gauzy fabric rippling in the slight breeze. They were all empty except the one closest to the walk, where a table waited, set for two, and graced with a vase of flowers and maidenhair ferns.
“To your liking, Jane?” He pulled out the chair for her.
“Such a gentleman,” she chuckled. She lifted the vase to her to deeply inhale the perfume of the purple and white blossoms. “Mmm. . .lilacs. . .very, very nice.”
“Did you know the Victorians used to send covert messages via flowers?”
“I’ve read of that, but I couldn’t give you any details. I must look up the meaning of lilacs. . . You know, you are a very surprising man. When our meeting was arranged, I expected maybe a conversation for an hour at most. But not all of this. I planned to be poking around in Sonning’s shops by now, not lunching along the river with you. I am definitely not complaining.”
His eyes caught hers for just a moment before an impish look rose on his face. “Uh, can I see your phone for a minute?”
She was puzzled. “Yeah, sure,” she said, searching her bag for the phone and handing it to him with a sly smile.
He pressed a few buttons and stopped. “It’s locked,” he said dryly with a glare that matched his tone.
“Yes, that’s my Blackberry for work and other private stuff.” She leaned in resting her elbow chin in hand. “Well, Mr. Page, why don’t you tell me what you might be looking for?”
Trying to hide a slight embarrassment, the telltale tic returned when his finger flicked his cheek as he answered. “I. . .uh. . .assume you have playlists on your phone. You can tell a lot about a person by the music they keep – in their collections. . .and now, on their phones. So, I thought I’d check out what’s on yours – with your permission, of course.”
“Ha! Okay.” She snicked as she grabbed the phone from his hand and pointedly dropped it back into her bag. Searching again, she pulled out her other phone, pressed a few buttons, and held it out to him. “Here you go, nosey,” she jested.
He took the phone and looked at the list displayed on the screen, dismayed. “All very good, Jane but they are only numbered – no description. How am I-”
She couldn’t resist taking advantage of his fluster. “Geez, just pick one, Jimmy!”
“Uh. . .number seven. Let’s see. Ah, classical. A fan of baroque, hmmm?” He glanced at her and then back to the screen.
“I am, but other stuff too. Prokofiev. . .and Barber’s Adagio for Strings is one of my favorite things. The tension gives me goosebumps.”
His eyes shot to hers in surprise. “There’s Penderecki! Really! I’m quite familiar with Threnody. I made it a point for us to do the benefit in Hiroshima, because, in part, of that piece of music. It’s a bit amazing that you know it.”
“My parents, again. They were taken with it – the power of it. It scared me when I was a kid, but much later, once I understood what it was about, I found it so evocative, particularly in its abstraction. I. . .uh. . .hear a bit of it echoing in Dazed. . .at least to me. That’s probably way off base, but. . .”
He tilted his face as he regarded her. “Hmmm. . .maybe,” he said, noncommittal. “Let’s see another. Ah jazz, you like Miles, eh? Mmmm. . . west coast music. . .number 3. . .ahh. . .blues. Who do we have on this list, I wonder? Robert Johnson, Taj Mahal and . . .lots. . .in between those two. Quite a selection here, love. I’m impressed with how broad your taste is.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s part of my job to be well-versed, you know. The stuff I like the best is there. Uhh. . .Can I have my phone back now? Please?” She smiled sweetly at him with a flutter of her eyelashes, in put-on flirtation. “I mean if you’re done snooping,” she added snidely, holding out her hand expectantly. He snorted with laughter as he surrendered her phone.
Their lunch was served and they chatted throughout the meal about various types of music that moved them and why particular ones did more so than others. The server returned to remove their plates.
“Dessert, Jane?”
“Uh, no. But an expresso would be fabulous. Thanks.”
“Just tea for me, please.”
“I’ll be right back, I have to – well, you know,” she said as she popped up from the chair and sauntered down to the river to assuage her craving.
He sat forward and watched her wandering the water’s edge. His pleasure in being with her had certainly grown rapidly. He was struck at how stunning she was as she stood at the river’s edge simply clad in jeans, boots, and a wine-red suede jacket covering a black top. She beamed as she turned to climb the slope to return to the table.
“This is lovely, Jimmy. One more unforgettable thing,” she sighed sliding back into her chair, as the server delivered the expresso, tea, and a plate of anise cookies.
“You’re going back to London tomorrow, right?”
“Yep. That’s the plan,” she said as she dipped the cookie in the black-brown liquid, and took a bite. “Let me say again, for the umpteenth time, how wonderful the time here has been.”
“I. . .uhh. . .was thinking of our conversation yesterday about your esoteric proclivities and I was hoping to pry a bit more, if I may?”
She eased back in the chair realizing, by the look in his eyes, he had a definite purpose. It intrigued her and intuition told her this was a conversation they needed to have.
“Okay, my interest is piqued now! What do you want to know?”
He relaxed into his arms folded on the table, focusing intently on her, and reached for her hand. He pulled her in closer to him as his thumb skimmed back and forth over the ridges of her knuckles.
“So, you said you weren’t a practitioner, but-“
“Uh, except for yoga, the tarot, and I Ching,” she quietly corrected him.
“Umm, yes. But the other things you mentioned – were you a dilettante or a dabbler, would you say?”
“Are you asking about some specific thing, Jimmy?” It seemed they were playing cat and mouse around something and he ignored her question.
“The books you read – you said you took away what made sense to you. I’m interested to understand what that was.”
She entertained his question for some time, trying to formulate what she thought about that whole period of her life- something she'd not done since her girls were young.
“Honestly, high-level - what I learned is there’s a freakin’ universe of stuff we don’t know. What we do know is probably a minuscule part of what’s out there. All that I read told me that there are people who can tap into something that most of us can’t, at least not in the same way. Jung’s collective consciousness makes sense to me. And. . .uhm. . .these individuals were serious and committed to communicating what they experienced but approached it in different ways for different reasons – sometimes for good reasons and sometimes not. That’s a simple explanation. I don’t think you’re not proposing a deep philosophical discussion about this right at this moment, are you?”
“And what did you take away from Crowley?”
“I found his writings difficult.”
He chuckled at her observation. “Yes, it is, at first,”
“I think he was a much-maligned hedonist who lived an incredible life, right? But also, a genius who pissed off a lot of people. Maybe I needed to spend more time with his writings to understand what he was proposing, but I’ve never felt compelled to do it. I do use his tarot deck though. His stuff on tarot was much more accessible to me.”
“And what about-“
“Tantra?” She slyly finished his question, confident with the choice of word.
“Yes. Were you a dilettante, a dabbler, or something. . .more, love?”
The intensity in his eyes unleashed a warm frisson running inside her. “Ah. . .I was a little more than dabbler, I guess, but that was. . .well. . .a very long time ago.”
“And how do you remember it, love, fondly or otherwise?”
“Fondly. . . Jimmy, what is it you want to know?” Again, he did not respond but plowed forward; his agenda not yet completed.
“Ummm. . .I want to explain something that may be important for you to know.”
“I don’t –“
“No, just listen, love. I want you to understand my proclivities.”
“Okaaay. . .”
“If you bear with me a moment, hmmm?”
She nodded.
“On a high level-” he smiled at repeating her caveat. “You know, there was a strong relationship between the unseen world and humans before societies organized. It was vital. As rulers and religions with their hierarchies and agendas became the way of the world, this link to obscure knowledge became a threat to those with power. The result? Censuring, demonization, purges, and deaths of those with alternative ways of seeing. The innate ability we once all had slowly disappeared or became forbidden where it remained. John Dee, one of the most learned and esteemed minds of his time, was a counselor to Elizabeth I. His library was thought to be the greatest in England in the Elizabethan era. He was a mathematician and a scientist but he was also a magician. His recorded magical experiences are the underpinnings of the Golden Dawn’s and Crowley’s systems. Dee had encounters with beings he identified as angels who dictated to him and his scryer, in an unknown language using an also unknown alphabet. The two translated their records which became the basis of Enochian magic. But in his time, brilliance and accomplishment be damned, he was ridiculed, accused, and died in poverty. I don’t mean to give you a lecture, love, and I am getting to my point.”
“No, please. I don’t feel lectured at all.”
“Good,” he smiled softly and continued. “Visitations by beings who imparted knowledge are as old as recorded history – in all cultures. There were angels, demons, gods, goddesses, malaks, devas- that’s just a few. So, if throughout history these messengers were observed, why did their visitations cease? Because again, those who announced interaction with or even privately communed with spiritual beings were dangerous to the powerful and were silenced, banished from society as deranged, as lunatics, as consorting with demons, crazy, except, of course, when they were required to appear as a curiosity. I could go on. Crowley had his own visitations that led to The Book of Law and his other writings. And as you said, he was much maligned for it.”
“He was, but I think the sex and drugs contributed to the criticism, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, much like we experienced not so very long ago, yeah? He at one point said he followed 'The Three Kings - smo-king, drin-king and fuc-king.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay," she laughed, "point taken."
“He was very blatant, certainly. He was devoted to physical pleasure as one way to be open to receiving information and along with certain substances, to free the subconscious desires – true will - from the control of the conscious mind. ‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law’ and ‘Love is the law, love under will’ are guiding principles in O.T.O. and Thelema. True will is essentially the calling or purpose in life. Magick is the method to attain that purpose. As you pursue your journey, you cannot interfere with another’s exercise of their true will. . . It is not malevolent. . .And I am a practitioner and have been for a very long time, although not a diligent one. I do not proselytize nor try to convert. This is something I engage in privately and without much comment, as you know. There are very, very few people I have had this conversation with and now I’m having it with you. I hope you understand the regard I have for you to reveal this part of myself.” His eyes scanned her face looking for acceptance or rejection. “So, does that make you want to run screaming for London?”
She started to make a smart remark to his question, thinking it was his usual sarcasm. He had not been this serious in their hours together but he was very serious now. It was apparent in his piercing eyes, the tightened grasp on her fingers, and the smile missing from his face. She was at a loss for how to respond. The depth of the admission felt immense. No words could match it. All she could do was bring his fingers to her lips where she placed a long, soft kiss.
“Jimmy. . .thank you. . .for trusting me. And no, I’m not running at all.” She could not let him go, so she took his hand in both of hers, silent.
“There’s a bit more I need to say, all right?”
“Please,” she said, barely audible.
“You are not alone in experiences you can’t explain.”
“What do you mean, Jimmy?”
“I mentioned that when I read your letter it had peculiarly affected me. Yes?”
She nodded in agreement.
“That first night, when I was sitting with the letter, I could detect. . .no, feel is a better description. . .an energy coming from the paper and a barely perceptible voice. Now that I have met you and heard your voice, it is hauntingly similar, my dear.”
“Fuck, Jimmy.”
“Yeah. . .and I had a dream - the very evening - of a white bird that flew to my window seeking entrance. Later I connected it to your letter by some intuition. Ever since I saw you arrive at The Bull, a whispering of familiarity has gotten stronger. You’ve confirmed we have not met in the past. And. . .uh. . .last night I was moved to read my cards as well. Your reading was perplexing you said; mine was extremely interesting and certainly related to you. And now with your reaction at the Deanery, I’m at a loss to explain. But I do know this: we have a connection that seems to be shouting at us, love.”
“What the hell, Jimmy? I. . .I. . .don’t know what to. . .Fuck! What do I do with that?”
“Let’s have a cigarette, hmmm?” He stood to pull her chair back. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” She handed him a cigarette and lit his then hers.
They walked hand in hand to the river’s edge where they separated each in their own thoughts. After a minute, he flicked the cigarette into the river and slid behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close, and rested his chin on her shoulder.
He spoke very quietly in her ear. “I had decided to ask you this last night. I hope your experience earlier doesn’t affect your response, but. . .”
“I’m feeling differently about it, I think. . .not so weirded out.”
“That’s good, Jane, because we have to investigate why we have been drawn to each other this particular way. You’ve mentioned you don’t have any immediate plans, so would you come to stay at Deanery for a while? I have engagements in London in a week, give or take, so we could go back together. Or, if you prefer, you can stay on at the Inn, as my guest. No debate about that, hmmm?”
She turned to him and stepped back. “Wow. You are full of surprises!”
He watched her eyelids start to twitch as she looked down and knew her analytical side had engaged.
“Hey, look at me.” She was still wide-eyed as she gazed up from the ground. “You could just say yes, you know, but it’s plain that you have to think about it.” His finger tilted her chin so she looked directly at him. “James will be here all day tomorrow. If you decide to go back to London, he will take you. If you decide to come to the Deanery, we can find a good time for him to move you over and if you stay on at the Bull, we’ll figure out when to get together. No pressure, Jane. Is that agreeable?”
“Uh, yeah. . .yeah, it is. Sorry wasn’t expecting that.”
“Shall we get you back to the Bull so you can start your deliberations?”
“Ha! You’re such a smart-ass. Yeah, let’s go.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jane was restless after returning to the Inn. She found her way to a table in the far corner of the bar with a double shot. Even that didn’t settle her. She left the half-empty glass and walked out into the cool evening air. She headed through the car lot to the gate, knowing the other direction would take her to the Deanery. She didn’t want to do that. Absorbed in mentally debating the pros and cons of the situation she found herself in, she paid little attention to direction. As the night fell, the glimmer of the tea lights from the spot across the lock caught her attention.
Yeah, I’ll hang out here for a while. Nice and peaceful.
As she approached the bench, in the dimness she saw a figure already occupying the seat. He was hunched over, forearms on his knees, staring out at the water.
Shit! There’s someone there. Wait!
Her arrival at the bench was unnoticed. He didn’t respond until she plopped down on the bench disturbing his concentration.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she laughed. “Sorry. . .didn't mean to disturb your solitary time. Guess we had the same idea, huh? Imagine that!”
“Ha! Hello again, Jane. I was just heading back. Please don’t take offense – nothing to do with your arrival. Do you want me to walk you to the Bull?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”
He rose and slung his hands in his pockets. “Good night.” He leaned over and whispered, “Take your time, love. No rush, but call me, yeah?”
The first 2:43 minutes - priceless. Jimmy’s greeting of the backstage guest is very different from Robert’s. 😁 there’s also some clips from the concert and more of J & R after the interview with the backstage guest.
