A few years ago, I found I liked listening to Led Zeppelin in August.
Today, I caught this feeling of listening to Led Zeppelin again as I drove around in the late afternoon after work.
North Carolina’s August. That time when it’s like summer can’t take any more of itself. The active, joyful months of June and July are done, and the heat and humidity builds while the sunlight starts to slant. There is a feeling of falling and growing darkness. And rot and decay.
For me, the work of summer is often not done by August, but I don’t have the natural impetus for it anymore. But from the best years that I remember, I wonder if August is when the beauty of summer, if you have risen up to it and worked for it, rewards you.
Listening to Led Zeppelin’s lyricism in the heat of August is amazing.
But that’s not really fair to a band, is it? Who says that a band can only be listened to during one month out of a year?
Led Zeppelin is not a band that’s one of my favorite. But I’ve known people who loved them like that. I’m thinking of them this year.
Such people must be sensually deeper or sensually bigger. They can hold so much more than me.