I am delighted to discover that there is a form of nostalgia that I am too young for. This week’s "Led Zep" frenzy left me pretty cold. No so FT readers – it seems. Our review of the Led Zeppelin reunion concert this week made the paper’s "most read" list.
I didn’t totally miss out on Led Zeppelin, the first time around. The first rock film I ever went to see was a recording of one of their concerts called, "The Song Remains the Same". And so it did – for hour, after interminable hour. The low-point was an 18-minute drum solo. The film was released in 1976 in London and even to my 13-year-old eyes, it was clear that Led Zep did not represent the future.
Before I crow too much about my extraordinary youth, however, I should face the truth. I may be "only" 44, but I’m going senile. Sitting on my desk is the fourth blackberry I have been issued with in the past 18 months. I’m too terrified to pick it up and move it (which kind of defeats the point), in case I lose this one as well. Number one was left on a bus in Istanbul; number two was left in a taxi in Washington; number three was left in a taxi in London.