Led Zeppelin - Black Dog
#3 in the five albums that most vividly evoke a specific time of our lives thing of which I will have more than five.
One day, I’m pretty sure it was around the 4th of July, 1973, I was in my cousin’s room, staring at the vinyl and the artwork on the covers. I wanted to listen. I wanted to hear. Something about those rock and roll records drew me towards them. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and hurriedly picked an album from the wall. Led Zeppelin 4. I ran out of the room, down the hallway and hid in the bathroom until I was sure my cousin had gone out again. When he left I went back in his room and lifted the lid to the record player.
I pulled LZ4 out of its cover and placed it gently - using just the edges of my fingers the way I was told - on the turntable. I lifted the arm, positioned it over the very first groove. I put the needle down.
Hey hey mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.
The lone, strong voice coming from the speakers made my heart skip a beat.
Then that guitar. The voice again. The guitar again. I was mesmerized.
Later, this album became the soundtrack to everything. Every summer. Every moment spent in Eddie’s fort or Dennis’s garage. Every walk to school, every night spent in the sump hiding from Officer Goldberg (car #106). My god, we thought we were bad ass and we were just punk ass. Punk ass suburban kids with a lot of time on our hands, most of which was spent in basements and garages and behind 7-11 drinking warm quarts of Miller beer and analyzing every word on Led Zeppelin IV.