Concert Memory: Led Zeppelin, Greensboro Coliseum, May 31, 1977

“We have seen the gods.  Now we can die.”

The date was May 31,1977.  It was just past midnight.

Along with about 17,000 other hard rock fans with ringing ears, Robert and Tim Miller and I were walking out of the Greensboro Coliseum.  We had just seen a three-hour long concert by Led Zeppelin.   

 

I love listening to rock music and hearing it live.   Picking my second most memorable or greatest concert would be difficult.  I’ve been lucky to have seen dozens of shows across the span of my sixty-four years, including Zep, The Who, Black Sabbath, Queen, Van Halen, Deep Purple, Rush, Blue Oyster Cult, Judas Priest, Def Leppard, AC/DC, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Scorpions, Uriah Heep, ZZ Top, Motley Crue, Eric Clapton, Kiss, Bad Company, Kansas and Boston.

People who know me and know how much I love Rush, who I saw about two dozens times over the course of about 40 years, will raise their eyebrows when I say that the greatest concert I have ever seen was that Zeppelin show in my hometown in 1977.   On the other hand, most of those people will also show some understanding.   We’re talking one of the greatest rock and roll bands of all-time, and arguably the greatest hard rock band ever.   

 

Every generation has arguments about which artists are the greatest.  In the fifties, Elvis ruled.  In the sixties, Jimi Hendrix not only lit his guitar on fire, he lit the world on fire on his way to becoming the greatest guitarist who ever stood on a stage.   Nevertheless, it was The Beatles that shook and conquered the world.   

The British Invasion was on.   After the Beatles disbanded in 1970, the Rolling Stones moved up to the top spot, helped by being introduced as “greatest rock and roll band in the world.”   I remember hearing that in mid-70s, and thinking something like — we Zep fans beg to differ. 

Part of our argument centered on our belief that Page was the greatest guitarist, Bonham the best drummer, Plant the best singer, and Jones the best bassist.   That is certainly subjective, but Google — greatest rock and roll guitarist/drummer/singer/bassist — and see what you get. 

On a trip in the early 1970s, Mom and Dad took me and my younger sister to Washington to see her aunt and uncle and family.   With a gleam in his eye, my cousin took me to his room, closed the door, and began playing Sabbath's "Master of Reality."   

In the mid to late 60's, when feel good, three-minute songs ruled the AM airwaves, my brother had corrupted me by playing the Doors and the Stones on his reel to reel.  Listening to Black Sabbath for the first time  was something more.  My whole mind and body felt something very powerful.   Although the words were not in our vocabulary yet, I was entering the realm of hard rock and heavy metal.

 

The crazy thing about Led Zeppelin (or maybe not) is that the band’s management decided to not release singles.  Nevertheless, fans bought and played their vinyl albums, and some FM radio DJ's began playing what became known as “Album Oriented Rock.”   By the mid-70s, Zep was filling up venues in numbers like no other act before.   

In our world of mega large venues, bands and acts, including the Stones, have set single performance attendance records with six digits, whopping figures that blew past Zeppelin’s high watermark.   Ultimately, however, we should judge performance by what was done in its time.  A month before the Greensboro show in 1977, 76,229 fans had filled the Silverdome in Detroit to see Zeppelin, a jaw-dropping figure that stood as a record for a number of years.   

 

Robert, Tim and I, were part of a sold-out crowd at the Greensboro show.   It’s hard to know if Coliseum Manager James Oshust (1970 – 1985) kept his own list of top acts he had brought to the arena.   He certainly had a lot to choose from.  In the 1970s and into the 80s, the Greensboro Coliseum was the main stop for touring bands, perfectly situated halfway between Atlanta and Washington.   As a big fan of live music, I took full advantage of that golden era.   We lived just two miles from the Coliseum.  

 

Concert-wise, the stars aligned for me in ’77.   Before turning my sagging life around by joining the Air Force in February 1978, I had money in my pocket from working odd jobs and was living at home.   In the summer of 1975, I had seen my first concert.   On the strength of their Number One hit, "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet," as well as FM staples, "Let it Ride" and "Taking Care of Business," Bachman Turner Overdrive headlined at the Coliseum.   I can still feel the excitement of stepping into that wonderful new world of sight, sound and spectacle, all the hands clapping, and as the BTO song says, "candles in the air" (and what was that sweet smell drifting around?)

In a span of just four months in ‘77 (February to May), Robert, Tim and I saw, at the Greensboro Coliseum, ZZ Top, Boston, Lynyrd Skynyrd and Led Zeppelin.   Boston was hotter than the firecrackers fans lit during concerts back then.   Their eponymous debut album would eventually sell 17M copies.   We saw them right when they were breaking out from back-up to headliners filling the biggest arenas.   

“More than a Feeling” was their smash hit, but every song on the album could have been a hit.   Those are the kind of shows you remember.   The band members are making a lot of eye contact, all that joy before the grind of touring does its damage.

 

Back in the day, concert promoters employed the standard practice of “festival seating.”   Sounds like a picnic in the park.  Oh, no.  Things could get ugly and fans got injured.   With some exceptions, the widespread practice eventually ended.   Ever so sadly, it took a terrible tragedy in 1979, the loss of 11 lives at The Who concert in Cincinnati, to show the world just how crazy the practice was.   

Anyway, we were oblivious to what happened outside the Coliseum ’77 show, but news reports I have now read tell of broken fences and rowdy behavior.   We must have held back and waited until the crush ended.   That meant we didn’t get up close to the stage, but being about 15 rows back and on the floor wasn’t too shabby.   And we didn’t get crushed like we did for the Boston show, where I was lifted off the ground. 

Almost all rock concerts in those days had one or more support acts.   That’s how up and coming bands got noticed.  I remember seeing five young lads from Britain in 1980 at the Coliseum, a band named Def Leppard that would go on to sell a few albums themselves.   The kids warmed up for the up and coming Scorpions and wild man Ted Nugent.   No one ever blew Nugent off the stage, but Robert and I saw Van Halen blow the doors off Boston in Raleigh in 1978 (remember the flying empty beer cups?)

Zep’s 1977 tour, billed as “An Evening with Zeppelin, was them and only them.  The term itself spoke to the band’s lofty status.   They had started the practice of “no support” around 1972, when their concerts had turned into three-hour affairs.  Of all the shows I saw back then, only Zep was a solo affair.

 

Rock musicians are not known for their compliance with rules and norms.   But when it comes to concerts, they know that show time is a sacred time.    Almost every rock concert I have ever seen has started on time.   That night, show time (8 pm) came.   Zep had only played Greensboro one other time (1975), a show I did not see.   The crowd was primed and ready for the magical moment when the lights go down.   

Only this time, they didn’t.   

As the first few minutes went by, I’m sure we were thinking, ok, no biggie, the band is just a little late.   Twenty long minutes later, we were all dying from the worry the show would be cancelled.   And after that, who knew?  Maybe no return appearance (as things turned out, this was their final tour of North America). 

Thirty minutes turned to forty, an eternity.  We might have been thinking —  So this is what purgatory feels like.   

It’s my thought that had it been any other band, the crowd would have reigned down a chorus of boos.   We certainly had every right to.   But as best as I can remember, we didn’t boo, because you don’t boo the gods.

Finally, the lights went down.  17,000 delirious fans started breathing again and roared in approval.   The band tore into “The Song Remains the Same.”    

 

My memories of the show have faded, but one can now fill in the gaps at the Zep website with reviews and comments, and newspaper reports.   I do recall Plant greeted us after the first song, and apologized for being late.   He said they would make up for it by playing a lot of songs.   These days you can’t get away with something like that because everyone knows the set lists and length of shows.   Having said, that, their three-hour show was without intermission.   I don't remember any other band playing that way.   From 1997 to 2016, Rush played about three hours, but always took a 20-minute break.

I can’t remember Zep’s setlist, but one can now look it up on the web.   They had put out seven albums so we benefitted from that.   The band would release just one more studio album, 1978’s “In Through the Out Door.”   

My favorite Zep songs are Kashmir, Whole Lotta Love, and one you might have heard of — Stairway to Heaven.  They played all of them and a total of 19.    

With Led Zeppelin, their concert was more than just a collection of songs.   They were maestros.   As one writer has said, Robert Plant had "the whole package as a frontman -- a tremendous vocal range, flowing rock star locks, and magnetism for miles."   Page held court with a mesmerizing extended solo with his bow string during "Dazed and Confused."   Only a fool took a bath room break during John Bonham's drum solo, and John Paul Jones and his keyboards had the stage during “No Quarter.”    

I wish I did have more memories.  I do remember at one point Plant took a break by sitting down on one of the stacks of speakers.  Every other musician I ever saw who took a break went backstage.   In my book, Plant earned some serious respect that way.   

The late Jerry Kenion reviewed the show in the Greensboro Daily News.   We offer the following snippets of her write up.

Jimmy Page, his thin frame covered in white satin... John Bonham’s drums help put the heavy into the heavy metal sound... laser beams crossed the stage creating a hazy green screen for the rising smoke... the fog machines cranked up to give the appearance that John Paul Jones was floating on a cloud. 

 

What constitutes a great concert means different things to different people.   Neil Peart has written that each Rush tour would bring just a handful of magical shows.   For most fans, just seeing the band play is magical.   I’ve read nit-picks of a show I had just attended, a critique that made me wonder if we were at the same show. 

Nevertheless, we all find shortcomings.   I can point out some with shows I have seen.   I saw Deep Purple with the Fab Five lineup headline the 1985 Knebworth concert.  Great show at a storied outdoor venue, but it rained so much the concert was dubbed "Mudworth."   And, get this.  There was an insane rumor going around Ritchie Blackmore did not want to play “Smoke on the Water” (they did).

I saw Black Sabbath, but it was at the god-awful sounding Fayetteville Coliseum and wasn’t with Ozzy (loved Ronnie James Dio all the same).  I saw The Who, but it wasn’t with Keith Moon (still a great concert).   I saw Lynyrd Skynyrd, but the memories are bittersweet.   Just five months later, tragedy struck when Van Zant, Gaines and a backup singer were killed in the crash of their chartered plane.  I saw Kiss in 1976, a killer show, but we sat in the nose bleed seats.  By the way, don’t get me wrong.  All those were awesome shows.

With the Zeppelin show we saw, there was the painful long delay.  But everything else was so right about it.  We sang happy birthday to “Bonzo,” and felt something very powerful when Page picked the first notes of Stairway to Heaven.   

 

In 2014, music journalist Lisa Robinson wrote, “There Goes Gravity: A Life in Rock and Roll.”   Robinson had full access to Led Zeppelin for a number of years and spends more than two dozen pages on what she saw.  In 2014, the author promoted her book at Politics and Prose here in Washington, DC.  I told her about seeing them and the unheard of forty minute wait.   

Echoing what many others have said, Robinson said by that time, the band was going downhill.   Many a journalist has written about “the monster that was Led Zeppelin.”   Page and Bonham drank heavily.   John Paul Jones would later say he was sick of life on the road.   Manager Peter Grant was a bully.    Zep weren’t the first band to become a train wreck, but all this made them easy targets for their critics.     

But for Robert, Tim and I, ignorance was bliss.   All we knew was the mighty Zep was coming to our home town and we scored tickets.    

The previous September, the band had released, "The Song Remains the Same," a double live album from the best of three shows at Madison Square Garden during their 1973 tour.   I read now that,  "a number of critics consider it to be over-produced and lumbering."   You'll have to excuse me, for I can only chuckle on that one.  From our perspective, it was all good.    

Three months later, Zep released “The Song Remains the Same,” the movie of the same name.   Robert and I went and saw the flick at the Janus Theatre in Greensboro.   Once again, reviews aren’t flattering.   For us, however, just being able to see a hard rock band on the big screen was an utter and rare delight.   

You have to understand that in the 1970s, before MTV came along, there was very little hard rock music on TV.   I remember staying up past midnight to watch Don Kirshner's Rock Concert (Zeppelin never appeared).  As a form of mental torture, I had to keep the volume down low as to not wake up my Mom and sister.   

As seen by this ad in the Greensboro Daily News (July 1985), TV programmers continued to push aside hard rock music.   

 

With some bands, the fans get to see them a long time.  The Stones are quite amazing that way, and Rush kept things top-notch for almost 40 years.  Blue Oyster Cult has played over, wait for it, 3,000 shows.     

But for many bands, the fire burns out too soon.   Just a few weeks after the Greensboro show, Robert Plant’s five-year old son died.   Bonham slipped away three summers later.

When things like that take place, bands face the tough decision of replacing an original member.   Some make the change and keep going.   

Led Zeppelin did not.   They were the gods, and we saw them.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[RealDavidMNixon]

THIS WRITTEN November 29th 2022

I was there…

Me and two friends hitch hiked separately from Fayetteville we agreed to meet at the newest McDonalds, funny thing was we got there within 30 minutes of each other.

My most vivid memory is when Robert Plant sit on the grand piano and sang Stairway To Heaven.

I thank you for this article, it was a very good read, brought back many memories I thought were lost.

I to enjoyed concerts in the ‘70’s
To name a few along with Zeppelin are…

The Rolling Stones
Van Halen
Doobie brothers
Black Oak, Arkansas
Three dog night
Uriah, Heep
Kiss
Bob Seger
J Geils band
ZZ Top
Blue Öyster Cult 2 times
Mothers Finest
I had tickets to Pink Floyd but me and my friends got high and forgot to go.
And
Lynyrd Skynyrd 3 times in the ‘70’s

And I had a late plane out of Birmingham, Alabama to go see them in Greenville, South Carolina their last concert together, I didn’t get there till midnight. My friends met me at the airport and we partyed that night only to find out the next morning their plane had crashed., it was a sad day.

In the nineties I went to Huntsville, Al. to watch a tribute to Lynyrd Skynyrd concert, playing was…

Peter Frampton
38 special and
Lynyrd Skynyrd.

I swear I think I recognize most the people there from the ‘70’s. LOL

DAVID NIXON
Still ROCKIN

[Jaybird's Jottings]

David,

Thanks for those great memories. They reveal your great passion for music and concerts. The story about Pink Floyd is something out of Cheech and Chong. Rock on!