The 500 - #148 - Houses Of The Holy - Led Zeppelin

 I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #148

Album Title: Houses Of The Holy

Artist: Led Zeppelin

Genre: Hard Rock, Art Rock

Recorded: Multiple Studios, London, England

Released: March, 1973

My age at release: 7

How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #278 - dropping 130 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: The Rain Song

To say my high school clique and I were fans of Led Zeppelin in the early ’80s would be putting it mildly -- our enthusiasm veered into full-blown obsession for months. At some parties, the debate wasn’t which album to play next, but which side of which Zeppelin album deserved the honor. It was serious business.

Led Zeppelin: John Paul Jones (bass, keys), Jimmy Page
(guitars), John Bonham (drums), Robert Plant (vocals).

We were already devoted fans of the 1976 concert film The Song Remains the Same, which captured Zeppelin’s electrifying  performances at Madison Square Garden, interwoven with behind-the-scenes footage and surreal fantasy sequences tailored to each band member. In 1984, when the film became available on video cassette, our friend, Steve Mackison, quickly tracked down a bootleg copy, and it became a staple of our viewing rotation.

Steve had built up an impressive collection of cult classic video tapes by the early ’80s. His townhouse became our unofficial screening room. We’d skip a few high school classes, head over to Steve’s place, drink tea, eat Pop Tarts and dive into his ever-growing archive of rock films and other flicks destined to become dramatic and comedic classics. Steve, unbeknownst to his parents, was taking a one-year hiatus from school, so he was always home and ready to hit play. We actually framed our morning sojourns from our high school to his town house on Dalhousie Drive in London, Ontario, as if we were attending a film class, We called it Mackison 101.

Steve's place in the 80s, pic courtesy of Google Street View.

In 1985, Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Saga hit the shelves, and it landed like a thunderclap in our circle. Written by rock biographer Stephen Davis, the book was packed with gritty, lurid tales of the band’s wild years, including tales of sex, drugs, mysticism, and mayhem. I didn’t get around to reading it, but it became gospel among my Zeppelin-obsessed friends. The book sparked endless debates and retellings, often between puffs at parties. Though the book was a hit with young rockers, the band famously criticized it for its sensationalism and factual liberties. Still, for the rest of us, it added another layer to the myth. It was our backstage pass to the chaos behind the music. As the adage goes: “Never let truth get in the way of a good story”. This was doubly true for teenagers in a time before the Internet.

Hammer of the Gods book cover (1985).

Houses of the Holy is the first of five Led Zeppelin records on this The 500 list Released in 1973, it marked a bold evolution in the group’s sound. Departing from the heavier blues-rock of their earlier albums, it embraced a more eclectic and experimental vibe. The record features fan favorites, such as The Song Remains the Same, (later to become the title of the aforementioned concert film). The Hobbit inspired Over the Hills and Far Away, and the reggae-tinged D’yer Mak’er. For years, my friends and I pronounced that track as “Dire Maker”, not realizing it was a play on the expression “Did ya make her?’ said quickly with a Cockney Accent -- “Jamaica”. It was, I would later learn, a play on a well known and silly British joke.

“My wife’s gone to the Caribbean.”

“D’yer mak’er?” ("Jamaica" aka “Did you make her?”)

“No, she went of her own accord.”

Houses of the Holy is a record I often cite as my favorite, although I’ve come to accept that ranking Zeppelin albums is a game of inches for me, and the criteria change with age and mood. The album contains an eclectic mix of songs, including the ethereally beautiful The Rain Song, a tune that will forever hold a spot in my personal top ten. But it also includes The Crunge, a James Brown-inspired funk experiment that’s never quite landed for me. As a teenager, I’d often joke (hoping for a laugh that never came) that it sounded like it was written specifically to make a drunk person feel like vomiting.

The Crunge is predominantly crafted in a time signature of 9/8 -- nine beats to a measure with the each eighth note getting a beat and an emphasis on the first fourth and seventh beats. The result is a rolling feel that can seem slightly uneven. Thinking about it as ONE-two-three, FOUR-five-six, SEVEN-eight-nine. Consequently, it moves a bit like a lilting ship in heavy waves. Now, throw in a few measures of 4/4 time (and a sneaky 10/8) and one might be able to understand how it could even make a drunken sailor a bit sea sick.

As I mentioned in my Black Sabbath Masters Of Reality post, back in September, 2022, Houses of the Holy was the first Zeppelin record I brought (sneaked) into my home -- having borrowed it from a chum named Adrian. At the time, I knew that the cover, which featured 11 naked, golden haired children bathed in an eerie, orange-pink glow climbing a stepped, rocky cliff, would not meet with parental approval. At the very least the gatefold art piece would prompt many questions I was ill equipped to answer.

Full gatefold picture for Houses of The Holy.

I would later learn that the photograph, taken by Aubrey Powell from the legendary art group Hipgnosis, actually depicts the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland, a natural rock formation of interlocking basalt columns. The photo was created using multiple exposures of two child models, siblings Stefan and Samantha Gates, who were photographed in different poses and positions.

Aubrey Powell -- who also did the covers for many of my
favourite bands, including Pink Floyd, Styx, Peter Gabriel,
Black Sabbath, Yes and Genesis.

The use of nude children, even in this non-sexual artistic context, has sparked discomfort and debate -- particularly in recent years. However, the image was not intended to be provocative. Powell noted that it was inspired by Arthur C. Clarke's science fiction novel, Childhood’s End. It was meant to evoke a sense of mystery, mythology and transformation that aligned with the album's eclectic and experimental tone.

I do know that the Houses of the Holy cover was never considered provocative by my high school peers. Like so many Zeppelin album covers, it was simply a cool, mysterious image and one we could project our own meanings onto while jamming to the eight tracks within. If anything, it felt more straightforward than the eerie minimalism of Presence (1976) or the cryptic symbolism of their untitled 1971 release, often called Led Zeppelin IV. Such was the “serious business” of Zeppelin fandom for a handful of Ontario teens in the early ’80s -- decoding album art, debating track rankings, and letting the music shape our own mythology.