Led Zeppelin – D’yer Mak’er (1973)
Admit it: you grew up pronouncing it ‘die-uhr may-kuhr‘, didn’t you?
It wasn’t their first single released in North America (that’d be Good Times Bad Times), nor was it their most successful single in either sales or radio play (that’d be Whole Lotta Love). In fact, absent a few passing medley quotations, they never even played it live (in Kingston or elsewhere).
But it was their last single to crack the Top 20 in America, and for many dilettantes, it was their introduction to the most widely revered rock band of all time. Yes, I phrased that superlative carefully, and no, I did not forget to use the word ‘arguably’. You go argue with a half-dozen 60-year-olds at the local at 01:30.
Indeed, it was never released as a single anywhere other than the US and Canada. An advance release was sent to radio stations in their homeland, but the reception was chilly; it was not the stuff of British Metal Nobility. So what do you do with chaff that the English consider wheatless? Sell it to ‘Murcans.
Amazingly, all of Page, Plant, Jonesey and Bonzo were credited with the composition. In fact, it started with a bebop drumbeat and morphed from there. The guitars – both bass and lead – were near-laughable caricatures of reggae formulae, while Plant’s voice and lyrics swapped between catchy vocables and blues-based ‘baby done left me’ tropes.
It was a bizarre mélange. And if it happened to be your first exposure to this surpassing band (and given its rotation on AM radio, it surely was), then the deeper dive into their oeuvre was going to be a cold bucket of ice water. Not bad, good heavens – but very. very. different.
So back to that title. It comes from an old, stupid joke:
“My wife just left for the Caribbean.”
“Oh?… Jamaica?”
“No, she’s always wanted to go there.”
Read it aloud with your best East-end London accent and it’ll come to you.
