The idea was too intriguing not to explore. Jimmy Page, arguably rock's
most influential guitarist, was searching for a lead vocalist for his next
album following his 1988 solo debut. Meanwhile, David Coverdale, the bluesy
belter who had founded one of rock's most successful bands, Whitesnake had
decided to dissolve that group.
Despite a common heritage steeped in the blues and R&B, and bearing
illustrious British hard rock bloodlines (Page with Yardbirds and Led
Zeppelin, Coverdale with Deep Purple and Whitesnake), they had only met in
passing during the good-old, bad-old days. Now, each was searching for a
creative partnership. That they found it with each other surprises even
them.
"We were both pretty nervous at first," says Coverdale. "To show how
unprepared we were for this working, just prior to Jimmy's arrival at my
house, I picked up a cheap ghetto blaster, $50 from Radio Shack, and we did
some of the scratchiest, most shocking demos on it. But we had this
exciting vibe, nothing contrived, and the songs just came pouring out. It
was incredible. We got all the fires burning again."
Coverdale/Page, the duo's self-titled debut album represents a creative
merger of two extraordinary talents and exploding with the hard rock blues,
is at once a departure and an arrival.
"We did not sit down and say, Let's write a Led Snake album," says
Coverdale. "We have a substantial amount to offer without resting on
former glories. It's easy to make comparisons but that's for the
narrow-minded. This album's the last two years of our lives, of two
musicians who have grown genuinely close as friends, which is quite
remarkable really."
Their first tentative step was to meet and simply see if they got on. When
they hit it off, the next step was to see if they could write together.
Page had been only vaguely aware of Coverdale's work: "Our common bond is
passion for this music," he says. "But I really didn't listen to many
other bands. I had enough to work on coming up with music of my own."
Emphasizing the low-tech, to the point of using cassettes of drum patterns
rather than computer keyboards on the demos, they found their writing wholly
natural, unforced. "You put two people together in a sort of corporate
merger and you won't get this result." Coverdale suggests. "The best
players don't necessarily make a great team. That's the downfall of
supposed supergroups."
Actually, he admits to being intimidated by Page in the beginning. "I
wanted to please him, not in a servile way but I wanted a thumbs-up from
Page, who I adore. When people meet me, it's sweet, but with Jimmy it's
papal."
Perhaps their first inkling that a Coverdale/Page teaming could spark some
major excitement was an impromtu walk on the streets of Manhattan one day.
"We literally stopped traffic," Coverdale remembers. "People wanted to
know 'Are you guys working together?' The hairs on my neck stood up.
That's when I thought this could be more than interesting."
Once in a studio, any potential ego problems disappeared in a hailstorm of
mutual admiration.
"He's a vocal gymnast," says Page of Coverdale, "someone whose notes
soar through the air. He isn't willing to see any barriers. I was
overwhelmed by his commitment. He doesn't take anything lightly once he
grabs hold. You could come up with something totally bizarre and he
wouldn't let it defeat him," Adds Coverdale, "there aren't a lot of
'chest-beaters' left."
In turn, Coverdale, who has sung alongside of some of the most noteworthy
of guitarists, defers to Page. "He has a phenomenal legacy which is as
potant as ever. It's great to look over and see somebody crunching chords
and giving you this foundation to go nuts. Give me some backbone, not some
widdly-widdly player. I'm used to calling the shots but it's easy to hold
back when there's this enormous reward."
Their credentials notwithstanding, they found they could still learn from
each other.
"JPs philosophy of build - the sheer dynamic, the whisper-to-a-scream
thing - is something I've always admired," says Coverdale. "And he's so
nuts about the creative process and not accepting just anything. I've given
jingle chords to somebody and gotten jingle chords back. Whereas from him,
I get this beautiful counter-melody or something I would never have thought
of. I've never had anybody to work with that intense."
Page is quick to chime in: "Or if I came up with something, he'd be so
fast to come on top of it. He'd throw guitar ideas at me as well and I'd
have to get my thinking cap on and come up with something."
Coverdale also encouraged Page to contribute lyrically.
"I wanted him to be able to identify with a lyric. My forte is personal
diaries but my experience is certainly not unique. One thing I've always
tried to do is make it a little more ambiguous, even though it's a personal
statement, so anyone can identify."
"Unfortunately my private life has been splashed all over the place the
last few years and I'm very uncomfortable about that. All I will say is
that my revelations come between the lines of the lyrics. My reputation
precede me: I'm a dream to some and a nightmare to others. It's something
Page and I have in common actually. Although I never saw any of his
rumoured dark side, I'm sure everyone has one."
The enigmatic nature of Page is renowned but, he offers, "I'm never shy
coming up with ideas for music. I communicate best through music rather
than words. David's extremely eloquent which is why he writes great
lyrics."
Their teamwork in the studio freed them to take some new and unexpected
directions, from Page wailing away on harmonica to Coverdale playing
acoustic guitar. They were backed by Lester Mendez (keyboards) and Jorge
Casas (bass), both Miami studio musicians; Denny Carmassi (drums) from
Heart, and Ricky Phillips (bass) from Bad English.
Says Coverdale, "It would be easy for either of us to be disappointed and
make overweight music just because of his name and my name. We've done it
all, seen it all, poked it all for a substantial period of time, surviving
whichever musical hula hoop was the current fad. But hanging on by one's
fingernails I find personally sad. Aging isn't a sin, mediocrity is.
Fortunately, I think we've risen to each other's expectations."
Both are keenly aware of the pitfalls of comparisons with the past and
other people with whom they've worked.
"When I get up into the stratosphere, it's impossible not to have some
indication of other singers," Coverdale notes. "Why, the other day, I
thought I heard myself and it was Etta James. I love what I'm doing and I
was very determined the more we got to know each other that I got JP's
support. I said, "If you think anything's getting too close for comfort,
don't hesitate to tell me. We communicated not only as musicians but
connected very strongly as people."
The same is true for Page. "This is my character of playing. I don't
play any other and I don't want to. So it stands to reason that identity is
going to be firmly stamped. But I'm extremely proud of what we accomplished
together. I know I haven't played guitar or focused on the overall songs
this well in a decade."
While emphasizing the new songs on their upcoming tour, they will
nevertheless play music from Led Zeppelin and Whitesnake as well. "We're
both really proud of our retrospective work, of course we're going to do
it," says Page. "There's so much material, the only question is will it
be a two-hour show or a two-day show?"
History aside, Coverdale says, it's all rock 'n' roll. "The two of us
together, we generate a substantial amount of electricity. This music is
flesh-and-blood: meat and potatoes rock."

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