I blasted the first Led Zeppelin LP on headphones as I walked to the bus stop this morning, a stereotypical grey, windswept rainy Seattle morning, and I was struck by how perfect "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" sounded in conjunction with my surroundings.

"Babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, baby, baby I don't wanna leave you. I ain't jokin' woman, I got to ramble. I can hear it callin' me the way it used to do."

Seeing as how 90% of the lyrics (not to mention riffs) on this LP were stolen wholesale from assorted anonymous and not-so-anonymous bluesers and folkies, I can only assume these brilliant words did not spring from the tiny head of Jimmy Page. Still, it's a haunting piece, particularly with the clouds in your eyes and the rain on your lips. And don't get me started on "How Many More Times" ... no matter when, where or how many times in a row it's played, that monster always sounds like the greatest song ever written, and yet it isn't, not by a long shot -- how the hell did they DO that?

Oh that's right. Satanism. If there's any band that I might believe signed a pact with the devil for success, it's Zeppelin ... bloated, sluggish, insulting, tasteless, slobbering with ham-fisted guitar and saddled with dull-witted earth-bound rhythm, shamelessly pilfered lyrics (entire songs lifted without attribution!) and each succeeding record more pointless than the last. Yet still my spine stiffens within seconds of exposure to that snarling "Communication Breakdown" riff, those first punchy chords of "Good Times Bad Times" or the majestic gallop of "Immigrant Song." I oughta know better than to dig these clods ... yet here I am.