Sorry posting has fallen off the table, but I'm in rehearsal and haven't had time to see films anyway. For the moment, please enjoy Chuck Klosterman on the end of Led Zeppelin. (Grantland)
There's no one (alive or dead) who can compete with John Bonham, particularly in terms of one's ability to be very, very, very loud without being the least bit deafening (he's always present, but never distracting). I don't think I've ever met a drummer who didn't love his work, which isn't the case with any other high-reputation hard rock percussionist I can think of.10 Yet Bonham's a troubling figure: Because he's dead, everybody wants to remember him fondly, even though half the stories I've ever heard about the guy seem to focus on other people stopping Bonham from stomping a man to death or raping a stewardess at random. In Mick Wall's book When Giants Walked the Earth, a French record executive recounts a story in which Bonham offered him cocaine, but — as a joke — actually gave him heroin. "He thought that was the funniest thing," recalled the executive. "He would take a chance on killing you!"