SteveAJones Posted November 24, 2007 Share Posted November 24, 2007 "Now and Zep" Life After Zeppelin By JOHN KRYK // Toronto Sun March 17th 2002 Consider the most successful recording acts in music history: The Beatles, Garth Brooks, Led Zeppelin, Elvis Presley, Elton John and Barbra Streisand. Now think what would happen to any of them -- save the dearly departed -- on a midday stroll down any main street in North America. They'd be mobbed, all of them. With one exception -- John Paul Jones. John Paul who? Exactly. He was the bassist, keyboardist and occasional songwriter for Led Zeppelin, the music act that has sold more records in America than everybody but the Mop-Tops. Yet today, two days before the official release of his second solo CD, "Jonesy" remains one of rock music's least recognizable, most under-appreciated talents. Now 56, Jones today not only can walk the streets of the world with little fear of being recognized, he says that has always been the case. "Pretty much, yes," the soft-spoken Jones told The Sun in a wide-ranging interview last December, a few hours before he and his two backing musicians opened for King Crimson at Massey Hall on a whirlwind North American tour. For the benefit of those who have never listened to FM radio, Led Zeppelin was the British band that popularized hard rock from 1968 to '80 and recorded the genre's pre-eminent masterpiece (Stairway To Heaven). They rarely granted interviews, were reviled by the British press, and never performed on North American TV -- all of which did nothing to stop them from shattering both album-sales records and concert-attendance marks throughout the 1970s. In the process, Led Zeppelin took musical creativity, stage confidence and, it must be said, arrogance to new levels. "It's not only that we think we're the best group in the world," singer Robert Plant said in 1974, "it's just that in our minds we're so much better than whoever is No. 2." Of Zeppelin's four members -- the others were Plant, guitarist Jimmy Page and the late John Bonham on drums - -- none revelled in starving the media monster more than the ultra-private Jones. With his mixture of impeccable manners and "upstairs" English accent -- always spoken with back teeth clenched -- Jones sounds like the last man you'd ever expect to find in a hard-rock band, especially one that partied as hearty as any did in the decadent '70s. Everything about his demeanour would lead you to believe he's an aristocrat who spends his afternoons sipping tea out in the Cotswolds, with pinky pointing skyward -- especially now with his short haircut. If shunning the spotlight was Jones' mission in life beyond music, well, mission accomplished. The lone price tag? Credit. "He's the kind of person who never would go around blowing his own horn, so people don't really know how much of an impact he made in Led Zeppelin," says Ann Wilson, who along with sister Nancy fronted Heart, a band that, like so many others during and since the '70s, rode to success along the trail that Zeppelin blazed. "I mean, that's why they hired him, because he was a brilliant musician. He kept them anchored to the earth. Without him in the band, I shudder to think what Led Zeppelin would have been." Jones' second solo CD, The Thunderthief, finally hits store shelves on Tuesday after months of delays. Even more than on his first solo effort (1999's Zooma), Jones shatters the misconception in the general public that Led Zeppelin's remarkable sound is owed entirely to Page's classic heavy-metal riffs and searing leads, to Plant's high-pitched vocal attacks, and to Bonham's thunder-thudding percussion. In Zeppelin, it was Jones who co-wrote the music to Stairway with Page and who both composed and played the brilliant four-part woodwind intro. It was Jones who devised the string and mellotron sections on Kashmir, he who broadened the band's sound by adding everything from mandolin to organ to synthesizers, he who wrote one of heavy metal's greatest riffs (Black Dog), and he who laid down some of the best, most melodic bass lines in rock music. "John Paul is the unsung hero of that band," Wilson says. "But, you know, everyone always says, 'Jimmy and Robert, Jimmy and Robert, Jimmy and Robert.' That's because they're the two most out-front guys who have always lived the big rock 'n' roll lifestyle in that band." The new CD should steal back some long-overdue thunder for Jones. The musical styles Jones explores (everything from hard rock to classical piano, Celtic, bluegrass, punk and folk) are reminiscent of the diverse styles embraced by Led Zeppelin on their eight studio albums. What's more, the main riffs on both the title track and on Hoediddle are as Zeppelin-like (that is, as catchy and hard-charging) as any written since the Zeppelin landed. The album also is a showcase for Jones' instrumental genius, for he plays 19 instruments -- from variously strung basses, guitars and mandolins, to keyboards, autoharp, ukulele and Japanese koto. Ah yes, instruments. Are there any he hasn't learned to play? "Oh, hundreds. Bass, for a start," he says laughing, shortly after giving The Sun a demonstration of blistering electric slide work on a custom-built, collapsible, eight-string lap-steel guitar. "My ambitions for instruments are endless, and they'll never be realized. You know, I'd like to play all of them. "I started off playing piano, then I heard the organ and said, 'Oh, that's nice.' And then the harpsichord and, 'Oooh, that's nice too.' And then bass, I like bass. And then I picked up a bit of guitar. I like picking up instruments, and I'll just get enough out of each instrument for the purposes in mind." Born John Baldwin in Sidcup, England, on Jan. 3, 1946, he was classically trained and mentored by his professional-musician father. By age 14 he was organist and choirmaster in his father's dance band, and two years later turned professional himself. He spent the early '60s in various touring bands. "In the early days I played in traditional bands, in jazz bands. I've played Lithuanian music, polkas ... I've played for weddings, bar mitzvahs, belly dancers, strippers -- you name it. I know it's called paying your dues, but it's basically a great learning curve on all styles, and they all relate." Already tired of the road by age 18, Jones got his break in 1964. He became musical director of side projects for Rolling Stones producer Andrew Loog Oldham. From there, over the next four years, Jones became one of the most sought-after session musicians and arrangers in England. He worked with everybody from the Rolling Stones (arranging the strings on She's A Rainbow), to Lulu (arranging To Sir With Love), to Donovan (arranging Mellow Yellow), to Jeff Beck (Hi-Ho Silver Lining and Beck's Bolero), to Tom Jones (Delilah), to Herman's Hermits (There's A Kind Of Hush), to Pearl Bailey, to Etta James, to Cat Stevens, to Burt Bacharach. Jones played on, or arranged, literally hundreds of recordings through 1968. There was no fooling around at those sessions. "You sit down, they put the music in front of you, they pretty much count you in for a run-through and then they go for a take, and that's it," he says. "One of the reasons I got a lot of work in the '60s was because I was just one generation younger than most session musicians. Anybody that wanted a Motown-sounding record really needed a James Jamerson-sounding (bass) part, otherwise your record simply wouldn't even come close. And so I could improvise in that style, and in the style of Duck Dunn as well, who was at Stax. So for any time that they needed a Stax or Motown cover, they would have to call me." It's no wonder that when a former session guitarist named Jimmy Page went about forming the "New" Yardbirds (after everybody else but Page had quit that legendary British band), the first thing he did was call up Jones, whom he knew well from session work. Page then found Plant and his drummer buddy John Bonham, and the New Yardbirds were born in autumn 1968. They soon changed their name to Led Zeppelin. The next 12 years were a blur: 26 tours, nine albums, worldwide fame, unequalled successes and, ultimately, tragedy. "Bonzo" Bonham died on Sept. 25, 1980, at Page's mansion in England, after a night of binge drinking following rehearsals for a fall tour of America. Bonham choked to death on his own vomit. The surviving members soon agreed there was no way they could continue as a band without Bonham. Asked how much he misses the other half of rock's greatest rhythm section, Jones pauses, then grows quieter than usual. "We did some great stuff together, which is always there. So if I miss him I can put it on ... If I hear something like Over The Hills And Far Away -- the rhythm section on that is exceptional. There are a lot of very, very tight, exciting moments. And I can remember in detail how we arrived there, and the feeling I had, we had, for what we were doing. So he's never really left, in that respect. "Bonzo and I were always listening to rhythm and blues records -- big James Brown fans. Like a lot of drummers, funny enough, he always knew the lyrics to things ... Bonzo would sit there playing and singing Chi-Lites songs or Smokey Robinson." After Bonham's death, Jones disappeared from the public eye. "I needed a rest," he says. When the three survivors reunited for the LiveAid concert in 1985, ABC's cameras never once trained themselves on Jones. It was all Page and Plant -- oh, and lots of shots of fill-in drummer Phil Collins, whom Page has lambasted ever since for ruining their songs that night. From 1981 to '94, Jones went back to doing what he did in his pre-Zeppelin days, quietly arranging and producing for other artists -- this time, sparingly. Amazingly, the phone did not ring from other bands looking for a brilliant bassist or keyboards player. The "unapproachable" mystique surrounding Zeppelin probably was to blame. "People used to say to me, 'Well, after Zeppelin, you were just turning down offers from other bands for you to join them, right?' Well, no. Not one -- because nobody would ask you." "That's absurd," Wilson says. "We considered ourselves so lucky when he agreed to work with us, because he had just finished working with Diamanda Galas, the Butthole Surfers and these different kind of projects that he was doing." The project to which Wilson refers is Heart's CD The Road Home, a live recording at a Seattle club that Jones agreed to produce and play on. It was during rehearsals at that club in August 1994 that Jones learned through the media that Page and Plant were reuniting for an MTV Unplugged special and for a future album and tour, mainly to play Zeppelin songs in new arrangements. "They didn't even call him to tell him," Wilson says. "One night he kind of opened up, you know, in his way, which is very polite. Never finger-pointing. But he did allow as to how it was a hurtful deal that they didn't even call. Those guys probably all their whole career had everyone in the world say to them, 'Oh, you two are the band.'And I know that, because that's what's always happened to Nancy and I in Heart. There's always some voice going, 'Oh, it's just you two. Never mind the rest of the band.' " Both Page and Plant declined to be interviewed for this story. Jones came to a personal crossroads that same year, after hitting the road for the first time since 1980 with Galas on her world tour: "I decided, 'I've been on everybody else's records. I've played everything, I've produced everything. I've arranged for them. And, you know, now's the time I'm gonna spend on my own stuff for a while.' " Once again, Jones was changing cycles. "My career has been cyclic. That's good. It keeps you awake, ya know. By the time it gets -- not boring -- but more on automatic, then that's the time to break away and take a few chances." Jones released the first solo album of his career, the vocal-less but critically hailed Zooma, in September 1999. He backed it with a tour in winter 2000 that concluded in Toronto. He then immediately went to work on The Thunderthief. On this new CD, Jones sings lead (on four songs) for the first time in his career. Jones plans to tour North America in late spring or early summer, once again with backup musicians Terl Bryant (on drums) and Nick Beggs (on Chapman stick). While many of Jones' contemporaries have long since seen their creative wells run dry, he himself isn't having that problem. His playing is better than ever. Hence, he doesn't like the stereotype of the over-the-hill rock 'n' roller. "It's a shame, really. For a rock 'n' roll musician, you're considered to be at your peak when you're 20 and then it's downhill from there. For every other musician, it's entirely the reverse: You're a student when you're 20, and by the time you get to 40 or 50, you refine your art." The father of three grown children has relocated from his longtime home of Devon in the English countryside back to London -- back to where, some day, he just might get recognized on the street. Should he ever attain universal popularity again, he could resort to a sure-fire plan that worked in the '70s. "Well, I'd always look different on every (Zeppelin) tour. I'd have a beard, or a moustache, or short hair, or long hair. "It helped. I remember coming out of the premiere for (Zeppelin's 1976 concert movie) The Song Remains The Same. At the end of it, I came out of the wrong door at the cinema, and there's suddenly just this crowd of Zeppelin fans coming toward me. And I could see some recognition in the first guy's eyes. So I pointed and said, 'They went that way.' Everybody said, 'Oh, thanks, man!' And took off. I went, 'Whew! Faked them out again.' Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Archived
This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.