Part 3 (1/2)

1. I have no f.u.c.king idea why rock magazines insist on interviewing ”industry insiders” for these kinds of profiles. Are we really supposed to be surprised that the guy who runs the White Stripes' record label thinks the White Stripes are awesome? The inclusion of this quote was not my idea.

2. In retrospect, I truly cannot fathom why this sentiment seemed so controversial at the time.

3. There's one other detail about Jack White that undoubtedly affected this piece: He doesn't trust the media, so his impulse is to contradict anyone he suspects is attempting to manipulate his image. This quality is rare. Most celebrities want to be lead, so they'll agree with any question that intimates an obvious answer; if you ask the average movie actor if his latest performance was more physically demanding than his previous roles, he'll almost always agree that it was (even if it wasn't). Most celebrities want the journalist to like them. White does not; his natural reaction is to disagree with whatever the question seems to suggest. For example, if a reporter says to him, ”The guitar playing on this record reminds me of Led Zeppelin,” White will immediately claim that he doesn't like Led Zeppelin and that the a.n.a.logy is weak. However, if that same reporter had said, ”Everyone thinks this alb.u.m sounds like Led Zep, but I think it sounds more like the Stooges,” White would say, ”Oh really? I'm very influenced by Jimmy Page. This is our Zeppelin record.” Within the context of any profile that's supposed to ill.u.s.trate who he is as a person, there's nothing Jack White won't disagree with.

Someone Like You I've probably written more about tribute bands than any sensible man should. I really like them, though. Tribute bands often reflect what I like about rock 'n' roll more than the authentic bands they replicate.

Dude Rocks Like a Lady (June 2005) ”In the days of my youth, I was told what it means to be a man,” yowls a waifish rock chick named Brooke Gengras, and three hundred lesbians know exactly what she means (even if I do not). While thundersticks detonate behind her, Brooke goes on to relate how she's had her share of good times and her share of bad times, but she can't seem to manufacture any concern about the woman who left her for a brown-eyed man; here again, the lesbians seem to agree completely. On the other side of the stage, a woman named Steph Payne is wearing dragon pants and carrying a Les Paul guitar and walking backward like Jimmy Page in The Song Remains the Same, The Song Remains the Same, although I don't recall being able to see Jimmy's black bra every time he reared his head back. Fifteen minutes from now, a woman in the audience will invade the stage and attempt to kiss Payne, but Payne will keep playing (in fact, she will play heavier). although I don't recall being able to see Jimmy's black bra every time he reared his head back. Fifteen minutes from now, a woman in the audience will invade the stage and attempt to kiss Payne, but Payne will keep playing (in fact, she will play heavier).

You get the impression this has probably happened before.

We are inside the Supper Club in Times Square; there is a blizzard on the streets of Manhattan, but the amplifiers are melting inside. The Supper Club is hosting a semi-private party for Showtime's lesbian soap opera The L Word, The L Word, and we are experiencing the headline entertainment: Lez Zeppelin, an all-girl tribute to the greatest rock band ever to sing about and we are experiencing the headline entertainment: Lez Zeppelin, an all-girl tribute to the greatest rock band ever to sing about The Hobbit. The Hobbit. Tonight, Lez Zeppelin will play just four songs-”Good Times, Bad Times,” ”Black Dog,” ”Whole Lotta Love” (including the theremin solo), and ”Rock and Roll.” Their replication of these songs is 80 percent flawless and 99 percent awesome. They sound like what would have happened if Heart had somehow written four songs that were all better than ”Barracuda.” And there are a few jarring moments when it will feel like the most powerful all-female band in rock history is not the Runaways or L7 or Sleater-Kinney; it will feel like the most powerful all-female band in rock history is four women playing c.o.c.k rock to a room full of hard-drinking, cable-subscribing lesbians. That might sound s.e.xist (and perhaps it is), but it also might be true. Tonight, Lez Zeppelin will play just four songs-”Good Times, Bad Times,” ”Black Dog,” ”Whole Lotta Love” (including the theremin solo), and ”Rock and Roll.” Their replication of these songs is 80 percent flawless and 99 percent awesome. They sound like what would have happened if Heart had somehow written four songs that were all better than ”Barracuda.” And there are a few jarring moments when it will feel like the most powerful all-female band in rock history is not the Runaways or L7 or Sleater-Kinney; it will feel like the most powerful all-female band in rock history is four women playing c.o.c.k rock to a room full of hard-drinking, cable-subscribing lesbians. That might sound s.e.xist (and perhaps it is), but it also might be true.

The rise of bands like Lez Zeppelin is the kind of multilayered cultural phenomenon that would make Camille Paglia so ecstatic that her brain would implode. The fact that women can play music originally written and performed by men-and that they can play this music so fluently-should not surprise anyone. What makes this noteworthy is their choice choice to play this music, especially since the majority of successful female tribute bands gravitate toward the most masculine, misogynistic music in pop history. It all feels ”political,” somehow. Motley Crue glorified ”Girls, Girls, Girls,” and so does the all-girl Crue tribute Live Wire. Iron Maiden told mothers to bring their daughters to the slaughter, and L.A.'s Iron Maidens make the identical request. There is an all-girl Italian band called KISs.e.xy that even includes a fifth member (she portrays replacement guitarist Vinnie Vincent), apparently so that they can play the KISS songs released after Ace Frehley quit in 1982, most notably ”Lick It Up” (which is about licking) and ”Fits Like a Glove” (which is not about gloves). And the question that might be even more compelling is why so many guys want to watch girls appropriating dude metal, particularly since the feminine reinvention of a song like ”Custard Pie” significantly alters how intimately male audiences can relate to its message. to play this music, especially since the majority of successful female tribute bands gravitate toward the most masculine, misogynistic music in pop history. It all feels ”political,” somehow. Motley Crue glorified ”Girls, Girls, Girls,” and so does the all-girl Crue tribute Live Wire. Iron Maiden told mothers to bring their daughters to the slaughter, and L.A.'s Iron Maidens make the identical request. There is an all-girl Italian band called KISs.e.xy that even includes a fifth member (she portrays replacement guitarist Vinnie Vincent), apparently so that they can play the KISS songs released after Ace Frehley quit in 1982, most notably ”Lick It Up” (which is about licking) and ”Fits Like a Glove” (which is not about gloves). And the question that might be even more compelling is why so many guys want to watch girls appropriating dude metal, particularly since the feminine reinvention of a song like ”Custard Pie” significantly alters how intimately male audiences can relate to its message.

Steph Payne thinks she has the answer.

”I have this theory,” she tells me a few weeks after the L Word L Word gig. ”A contractor was going to do some work in my apartment, and I told him about our band. Well, he flipped out; he told me that he saw Zeppelin at Madison Square Garden in 1973. And this big contractor dude-this heavy-duty, heteros.e.xual bricklayer-told me that Robert Plant was the only man he ever wanted to sleep with. My theory is that there were a lot of guys like this contractor: guys who were s.e.xually turned on by Led Zeppelin, because Page and Plant were f.u.c.king beautiful. They were thin, they had long, flowing hair-they looked like girls. My theory is that a lot of male Zeppelin fans really gig. ”A contractor was going to do some work in my apartment, and I told him about our band. Well, he flipped out; he told me that he saw Zeppelin at Madison Square Garden in 1973. And this big contractor dude-this heavy-duty, heteros.e.xual bricklayer-told me that Robert Plant was the only man he ever wanted to sleep with. My theory is that there were a lot of guys like this contractor: guys who were s.e.xually turned on by Led Zeppelin, because Page and Plant were f.u.c.king beautiful. They were thin, they had long, flowing hair-they looked like girls. My theory is that a lot of male Zeppelin fans really did did want to sleep with Led Zeppelin. So those kinds of guys love the fact that we're girls, because they can watch us play those songs and still feel normal. They can actually go there in their mind without freaking themselves out.” want to sleep with Led Zeppelin. So those kinds of guys love the fact that we're girls, because they can watch us play those songs and still feel normal. They can actually go there in their mind without freaking themselves out.”

So perhaps this phenomenon is a little less political than it seems.

”We've had to kick guys out of our shows for jacking off,” Nici ”Riff” Williams tells me, and I am not surprised. Williams plays ba.s.s in AC/DShe. ”He wasn't just kicked out, but physically dragged out-in a daze-by guys who were a little bit more testosterone-driven than he was. We were playing in a place in Folsom, California, north of Sacramento. The venue has a balcony, and I guess this guy was sitting right above the stage, jacking off. One of the security guards saw him and started to kick his a.s.s. He ended up getting dragged out of the place with his pants down.”

I am speaking with both Williams and Amy ”Bonny Scott” Ward, the founding members of San Francisco's best-known, all-female tribute to pre-1980 AC/DC. Unlike many of their tribute peers, AC/DShe is not a collection of career musicians who decided to sc.r.a.p their original bands in the hope of making more money as begrudging copycats; AC/DShe is the only only band Williams and Ward have ever played in. Williams, in fact, had never even picked up a ba.s.s until she thought up the name AC/DShe and decided such a group needed to exist. It is not that these women merely love AC/DC-they actually feel a responsibility to make AC/DC more popular. This is their religion. band Williams and Ward have ever played in. Williams, in fact, had never even picked up a ba.s.s until she thought up the name AC/DShe and decided such a group needed to exist. It is not that these women merely love AC/DC-they actually feel a responsibility to make AC/DC more popular. This is their religion.

”Our ultimate goal is to spread the gospel of AC/DC,” explains Ward. ”We are trying to turn people on to AC/DC. A lot of young kids come to our shows. They've never seen AC/DC, but they've grown up on AC/DC because of their parents. There's nothing cooler than playing to a s.h.i.+tload of kids in the front row-kids who are nine or ten, wearing AC/DC s.h.i.+rts, singing all the words. I know that sounds f.u.c.king corny, but it's cool. The second goal is to eventually meet AC/DC. I mean, if we could meet AC/DC, then we've achieved everything. And being in this band gives them a reason to want want to meet us. Otherwise, we're just a couple of bimbos going to an AC/DC show, trying to make it backstage. This is the proper way to meet your heroes.” to meet us. Otherwise, we're just a couple of bimbos going to an AC/DC show, trying to make it backstage. This is the proper way to meet your heroes.”

AC/DShe's motivations are both modest (i.e., meeting a popular rock band) and abstract (making one of the world's most popular bands more popular). This curious brand of pragmatism is probably central to their success-and within the limited confines of the tribute idiom, AC/DShe is just about as successful as possible. They have played to five thousand people in Chicago and more than ten thousand miscreants at biker rallies; they've been flown to Wales to perform at AC/DC's Big Ball, an international festival celebrating the music of Australia's most precious metal. Curiously, they are not the only all-female AC/DC tribute in America; there are at least four others, and Seattle's h.e.l.l's Belles are (arguably) just as famous as AC/DShe. Yet h.e.l.l's Belles are not AC/DShe's main musical rivals, even though they should be. AC/DShe's main musical rival is Zepparella.

As you may have guessed, Zepparella is another all-female Zeppelin tribute. Two of the women in Zepparella-their lead guitarist and drummer-joined after leaving AC/DShe. It is a complicated situation. These former members of AC/DShe (”Phyllis Rudd” and ”Agnes Young”) also play in an original band called Bottom, which has opened shows for Zepparella. They wanted to do this while remaining in AC/DShe, which Williams and Ward saw as unacceptable. Both women were reticent to discuss this (inarguably unique) rivalry, but it's clear that some feelings remain bruised.

”The one thing that I will say,” Ward adds cautiously, ”is that we've always been on the up and up with those girls. We had been playing with them for three years, and it was great. Zepparella is a completely different thing, and a completely different audience. But I do think it's really f.u.c.king hard when your Angus Young is also Jimmy Page. I think that the image we portray-you know, the idea that we're doing this simply because we're huge AC/DC fans-would have been tarnished a little bit.”

Ward's argument is that someone wanting to simultaneously play in an AC/DC tribute and and a Led Zeppelin tribute is precisely what she hates about other cover bands: that they are not serious about the music they lionize, and that it's simply a financial decision. They are only in it for the money. Ward and Williams (along with AC/DShe rhythm guitarist ”Sarracuda” Young) remain focused on what they feel is most important, namely (a) delivering dirty deeds at cut-rate prices; and (b) consistently re-creating Bon Scott's last night on earth. AC/DShe may be better at a Led Zeppelin tribute is precisely what she hates about other cover bands: that they are not serious about the music they lionize, and that it's simply a financial decision. They are only in it for the money. Ward and Williams (along with AC/DShe rhythm guitarist ”Sarracuda” Young) remain focused on what they feel is most important, namely (a) delivering dirty deeds at cut-rate prices; and (b) consistently re-creating Bon Scott's last night on earth. AC/DShe may be better at drinking drinking like AC/DC than they are at like AC/DC than they are at sounding sounding like AC/DC. Their rider requests almost nothing beyond Budweiser and Maker's Mark, which they guzzle throughout their performances. Williams notes that there is no ba.s.s line during the first and second verse of ”Highway to h.e.l.l,” thereby allowing her to shotgun two beers during one song (”That's kind of my ba.s.s solo,” she says). These are, in many ways, the kind of women that male AC/DC fans dream about meeting. And though that is not AC/DShe's singular aspiration, it's not something they're ashamed of. like AC/DC. Their rider requests almost nothing beyond Budweiser and Maker's Mark, which they guzzle throughout their performances. Williams notes that there is no ba.s.s line during the first and second verse of ”Highway to h.e.l.l,” thereby allowing her to shotgun two beers during one song (”That's kind of my ba.s.s solo,” she says). These are, in many ways, the kind of women that male AC/DC fans dream about meeting. And though that is not AC/DShe's singular aspiration, it's not something they're ashamed of.

”Some other tribute acts do take this all-girl thing to a totally different level,” Ward says. ”We were never trying to be political. We would never say, 'We're chicks and we can rock, too!' I mean, of course of course chicks can rock. But there are other all-girl bands where that is absolutely their agenda, and they're feminists and they make feminist statements. We've been asked to play at political events and to do fund-raisers, but we always say no. Our agenda is to have no agenda. Rock 'n' roll has nothing to do with politics. Even if we chicks can rock. But there are other all-girl bands where that is absolutely their agenda, and they're feminists and they make feminist statements. We've been asked to play at political events and to do fund-raisers, but we always say no. Our agenda is to have no agenda. Rock 'n' roll has nothing to do with politics. Even if we agree agree with the politics, we still refuse to do those events, because AC/DC would never do anything like that.” with the politics, we still refuse to do those events, because AC/DC would never do anything like that.”

Seven years before he sired the fourth-most famous Stroke, Albert Hammond wrote a song about how it never rains in Southern California; according to Hammond's paradoxical lyrics, it actually pours. And it is pouring tonight in Los Angeles as I walk toward Club Vodka to see Cheap Chick, SoCal's finest (and presumably only) all-female Cheap Trick tribute. I am not sure what they will look like, but they are easy to spot: I see four women freaking out over a Nissan mini-van, and one of them is wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap and checkerboard sneakers. I walk over to say h.e.l.lo and antic.i.p.ate meeting four twenty-five-year-old ironists, but these are not the people I encounter. The reason they are freaking out over this minivan is because someone just gave it to them. It was a gift from Nissan, and it's precisely the kind of gift they need.

You see, Cheap Chick are soccer moms.

Well, not all of them, I suppose; only two of them have kids. However, everybody in Cheap Chick is a little older-and a little more sensible-than I expect. ”I'm Kristi and I'm forty-one, and I'm proud of being forty-f.u.c.king-one,” says Kristi Callan, lead singer and mother of two. ”I play Robin Zander, and I also edit books for money. I do whatever I can to make money.”

It seems that someone from Nissan is a fan of Cheap Chick, so he decided to give them a Nissan Quest as an innovative form of viral marketing: he apparently hopes to rebrand the concept of soccer moms soccer moms into the hipper category of into the hipper category of rocker moms. rocker moms. The members of Cheap Chick seemed like ideal candidates for such an evolution. ”Nissan's target market is active moms,” says ba.s.sist Pamita Neptuna, who also has two children. ”They want to appeal to the kind of woman who would be in a rock band. We're not unusual for a band, but we're unusual for moms.” As such, the members of Cheap Chick now share a complimentary $30,000 vehicle that would be perfect for touring, if they did, in fact, tour. Which (of course) is something they can't really do, because somebody has to drag the kids to soccer practice twice a week. It's a vicious circle. The members of Cheap Chick seemed like ideal candidates for such an evolution. ”Nissan's target market is active moms,” says ba.s.sist Pamita Neptuna, who also has two children. ”They want to appeal to the kind of woman who would be in a rock band. We're not unusual for a band, but we're unusual for moms.” As such, the members of Cheap Chick now share a complimentary $30,000 vehicle that would be perfect for touring, if they did, in fact, tour. Which (of course) is something they can't really do, because somebody has to drag the kids to soccer practice twice a week. It's a vicious circle.

Neptuna is the reason Cheap Chick became a reality; the band was her idea, and she handles all the publicity and booking. ”My talent does not lie with being a phenomenal ba.s.s player,” she says. ”My true talent is talking people into doing stupid things.”

All four members of Cheap Chick had previous careers in music, but all four now hold day jobs. During the 1980s, Callan was in a Bangles-esque group called Wednesday Week who were briefly label mates with the likes of Poison on Enigma Records. In the '90s, drummer Judy Cocuzza played with the cartoonish, all-girl punk-metal outfit Betty Blow-torch (in Cheap Chick, she calls herself Bunni Carlos-a play on Cheap Trick's Bun E. Carlos that can only be appreciated on paper). Guitarist Robin Beacham is both the quietest and s.e.xiest member of the band, and inadvertently the most confusing: because her real first name is Robin, people always a.s.sume she portrays singer Robin Zander, even though she actually portrays Rick Nielsen. This is the kind of dilemma nontribute acts never have to worry about. Beacham joined Cheap Chick after declining an opportunity to personify Tony Iommi in the all-female Black Sabbath tribute Mistresses of Reality.

Perhaps because of their ages-or maybe just because of their collective worldview-Cheap Chick seem detached from all the gender-based questions that typically hound any group of women who play music created by men. Though they concede that part of their audience simply wants to watch hot women playing rock music, they find that neither interesting nor insulting. ”Growing up, I never thought that I was a girl playing the drums and that there were also guys who played the drums,” claims Cocuzza. ”I always just thought, I play the drums. I play the drums. It took me a long time to realize that everybody else thinks I'm a girl. I mean, I'm It took me a long time to realize that everybody else thinks I'm a girl. I mean, I'm aware aware that I'm a girl, but it never made a difference to me.” that I'm a girl, but it never made a difference to me.”

That's a good att.i.tude, especially since Club Vodka is (more or less) a strip club. The bar features two stages: one for Cheap Chick and one for cheap chicks. I a.s.sume the strippers will take a break during Cheap Chick's set, but they do not; they inexplicably perform throughout the entire concert. It's a confounding dissonance: while one woman rips through the solo to ”Southern Girls” and flicks guitar picks into a mixed audience of 150, another woman (who's literally a Southern girl from Alabama) uses those same riffs to slither like a python against a cold metallic pole. During ”He's a Wh.o.r.e,” a brunette stripper jumps on the main stage and tries to molest a visibly uncomfortable Beacham, forcing the guitarist to constantly flee the dancer's ridiculously fake b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The rest of the band finds this hilarious. It's almost like a bachelorette party, except the soundtrack is power pop.

Cheap Chick close the night with ”Surrender” and ”Dream Police.” Outside on Melrose Avenue, it's still pouring. It's a good thing that this Nissan has antilock brakes.

The first night I watch Lez Zeppelin perform, I presume they are all lesbians. This seems like a valid a.s.sumption, inasmuch as (a) they were performing at a party for The L Word, The L Word, and (b) they are in a band called Lez Zeppelin. After I interview the band in a Manhattan rehearsal s.p.a.ce, I decide that my initial math was wrong; I decide that two of them are lesbians and two of them are not. When I see them a third time, I realize that three of them are totally straight (and at least two are totally married). In fact, they might and (b) they are in a band called Lez Zeppelin. After I interview the band in a Manhattan rehearsal s.p.a.ce, I decide that my initial math was wrong; I decide that two of them are lesbians and two of them are not. When I see them a third time, I realize that three of them are totally straight (and at least two are totally married). In fact, they might all all be straight, for all I know. This is their ”mystery,” much like the way the real Led Zeppelin refused to admit whether or not they had sold their souls to the devil in order to receive supernatural rocking power and/or a higher royalty rate from Atlantic Records. be straight, for all I know. This is their ”mystery,” much like the way the real Led Zeppelin refused to admit whether or not they had sold their souls to the devil in order to receive supernatural rocking power and/or a higher royalty rate from Atlantic Records.

”Definitely maybe not,” says drummer Wendy Kershen when I first ask if Lez Zeppelin are predominantly (or partially) h.o.m.os.e.xual. ”But maybe. Maybe, or maybe not. Actually, I had to have a s.e.x change to join this band.”

As it turns out, the name Lez Zeppelin is a marketing tool. According to the band, it was simply the cleverest linguistic manipulation they could think of. However, it's clear that Payne-a former rock writer for NME NME and and Rolling Stone Rolling Stone-understands exactly what she is doing. ”Our gender is definitely an important part of what we do, but it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with us being lesbians,” she says. ”There is certainly some unusual power in the idea of girls playing this particular music, and that doesn't have anything to do with whether or not those girls are gay or straight. It's just the profound intensity of females playing c.o.c.k rock.”

Because Lez Zeppelin live in New York City, they exist in something of a bubble; they don't face much artistic opposition. On the West Coast, Cheap Chick and AC/DShe are surrounded by the hordes of tribute acts (both male and female) who now dominate the Sunset Strip (on the same night I saw Cheap Chick, the opening band was Nirvana tribute Penny Royal-and both were competing against nearby shows by the Skid Row tribute Monkey Business, the Black Sabbath tribute Wicked World, the ELP tribute Knife Edge, and the Rolling Stones tribute Sticky Fingers). This is not the case in New York, where the scene is less visible. Payne found Kershen by placing an advertis.e.m.e.nt in Drummer Girl Drummer Girl magazine; in a bizarre (and possibly unbelievable) case of serendipity, Kershen had just given up on forming an original band and locked herself inside a studio, hoping to learn John Bonham's drum fills. Payne (who once toured as a backing musician for erstwhile girl grouper Ronnie Spector) had already hooked up with Lisa Brigantino, who-weirdly-played ba.s.s, organ, and mandolin, which happen to be all the same instruments John Paul Jones played in Zeppelin. What's even more coincidental is that Brigantino delivers the kind of droll commentary you'd expect to hear from John Paul Jones, a.s.suming J.P.J. wasn't British and possessed ovaries: she is entirely professional and relentlessly understated. magazine; in a bizarre (and possibly unbelievable) case of serendipity, Kershen had just given up on forming an original band and locked herself inside a studio, hoping to learn John Bonham's drum fills. Payne (who once toured as a backing musician for erstwhile girl grouper Ronnie Spector) had already hooked up with Lisa Brigantino, who-weirdly-played ba.s.s, organ, and mandolin, which happen to be all the same instruments John Paul Jones played in Zeppelin. What's even more coincidental is that Brigantino delivers the kind of droll commentary you'd expect to hear from John Paul Jones, a.s.suming J.P.J. wasn't British and possessed ovaries: she is entirely professional and relentlessly understated.

”When Steph told me about her idea to play this music-which I was familiar with, but not to the extent of the other three-it intrigued me, and it seemed like a challenge,” Brig-antino says, slightly bored by the question. ”It seemed like a way to increase my musicians.h.i.+p, and it created an opportunity to play several instruments every night. Historically, women in rock are rarely seen as instrumentalists, and that is what we're trying to achieve. These songs are intricate and heavy and wonderful to play. As someone who grew up playing a lot of different instruments, I caught a lot of flak from guys and always felt this pressure to prove myself, simply because I was a woman and no one expected me to be any good.”

As Brigantino explains her motives for reinventing ”Trampled Underfoot” for audiences who reflexively adore the original, the meaning of Lez Zeppelin (once again) starts to seem philosophical; she is trying to prove a point, and that point is tangibly tied to her femininity. So maybe this trend does mean something; maybe all-female tribute bands really are are political. But then I start chatting with Lez singer Brooke Gengras, and I realize I may be overthinking all of this. There is a point to Lez Zeppelin, but it has nothing to do with the political. But then I start chatting with Lez singer Brooke Gengras, and I realize I may be overthinking all of this. There is a point to Lez Zeppelin, but it has nothing to do with the Lez Lez and everything to do with the and everything to do with the Zeppelin. Zeppelin.

”This band is just so fun, and it's because I f.u.c.king love Led Zeppelin, man.” Gengras calls herself ”Roberta Plant” and wears '86 Air Jordans. If asked to describe her enthusiasm, the key modifier would be unbridled. unbridled. ”I mean, I f.u.c.king love John Bonham, but I'm never gonna get to play with him, and my other band isn't going to sit around and play f.u.c.king Zeppelin covers all night, so f.u.c.k it.” ”I mean, I f.u.c.king love John Bonham, but I'm never gonna get to play with him, and my other band isn't going to sit around and play f.u.c.king Zeppelin covers all night, so f.u.c.k it.”

Roberta Plant looks a little like Parker Posey; her other band is called Easy, but this band is easier. All she has to do is sing the songs that changed her life. And if men (or women) want to watch her do that simply because she's a woman, that's fine; being a woman doesn't have any impact on why she loves Physical Graffiti Physical Graffiti and and In Through the Out Door. In Through the Out Door.

”Actually, the hardest thing is just memorizing the lyrics,” she says. ”When I was learning 'Stairway to Heaven,' I had to close my eyes and create this entire movie in my head-I had to come up with this entire visual f.u.c.king thing, just so I could f.u.c.king remember all six verses of this weird-a.s.s s.h.i.+t. I had to look up hedgerow hedgerow in the dictionary.” in the dictionary.”

Well, so did the rest of us.

Fargo Rock City, For Real I am including the following story for two reasons, neither of which is, ”Because it's good.” In many ways (in fact, in most most ways), this story is horrible. It was my attempt to explain the Fargo, North Dakota, ”rock scene” when I was twenty-three years old. In retrospect, it now reads like a satire of daily newspaper entertainment reporting, which was certainly not my intention at the time. But that's also what's kind of cool about it; the description of all the 1995 bands in Fargo (and its sister city, Moorhead, Minnesota) is probably pretty close to the rock scene of ways), this story is horrible. It was my attempt to explain the Fargo, North Dakota, ”rock scene” when I was twenty-three years old. In retrospect, it now reads like a satire of daily newspaper entertainment reporting, which was certainly not my intention at the time. But that's also what's kind of cool about it; the description of all the 1995 bands in Fargo (and its sister city, Moorhead, Minnesota) is probably pretty close to the rock scene of every every small-market town in 1995. If you spent the middle part of the '90s in, say, Little Rock, Arkansas (or Des Moines, Iowa, or Boise, Idaho, or anywhere with a population below 200,000), you could probably delete all the artists' names and replace them with any of the going-nowhere bands who happened to be playing in your hometown. The article wouldn't make any less sense (or be any less accurate). small-market town in 1995. If you spent the middle part of the '90s in, say, Little Rock, Arkansas (or Des Moines, Iowa, or Boise, Idaho, or anywhere with a population below 200,000), you could probably delete all the artists' names and replace them with any of the going-nowhere bands who happened to be playing in your hometown. The article wouldn't make any less sense (or be any less accurate).

The other reason I like this story is because 1995 was a goofy cultural moment for pop music; by '95, alternative rock had been completely mainstreamed by every element of society (even in North Dakota). However, young musicians still looked to punk and grunge as a way to identify themselves as ”underground.” Which was hilarious, since trying to be underground by liking alt rock in 1995 would have been like trying to be underground in 1978 by liking Boston.