A tale of tight trousers: or talking about what you know. With help from Led Zeppelin, Guns N’ Roses and a nurse with ‘O’ Level biology.
Date posted: Friday 19th September 2014
Doo doo doo doo dooh! Robert Plant in his prime
Led Zeppelin. What do these words mean to you? I suspect if you are under 50 or have never been a teenage boy, then not a great deal. But in 1974 (when I was a teenage boy) this band ruled the world. And most boys of my age wanted to be like either singer Robert Plant or guitarist Jimmy Page. (We didn’t aspire to be like drummer John ’Bonzo’ Bonham, as he was a bit pudgy, had a dodgy tash and was usually photographed in the middle of a 10-minute drum solo and dripping in sweat- not a good look. Nobody knew what John Paul Jones looked like as he was the bass player-nuff said.)
What we did know was that these guys not only rocked, but didn’t have to do anything to attract an entourage of girls: possibly because they wore impossibly tight trousers. For most of their career, Page and Plant were the height of sartorial cool (apart from a brief spell as country bumpkins during their Led Zeppelin III era. Plant went back to the spray-on flares in 1974 after a disastrous US tour when the band were not constantly mobbed by screaming fans and even appeared on the front cover of Farmers’ Weekly.) If you don’t believe any of this, just Google ‘Robert Plant’s trousers’ and you will see how many column inches are dedicated to his… well… column inches.
Good times, bad times. Clearly a bad clothes time for Page and Plant.
Adolescence is not only a time of rapid physical growth, but a period in a boy’s life when he hasn’t quite grown up emotionally and psychologically. This includes not taking into account the possible consequences of his actions. Or to put it another way: behaving like a complete twit. Boys are also desperate to find a role model and to copy his every move. This includes wearing the same clothes as the men they want to be like. One lad my age became an apprentice, and was to be seen around town wearing bib and brace dungarees and a cloth cap and drinking pints of light ale, in homage to his mentors at work. I, unfortunately, didn’t become an apprentice, and chose to dress like Robert Plant. This decision was to lead me almost to the brink of disaster.
As soon as I left school I wanted to go to a rock festival and attract lots of girls. Please don’t judge me: I was young and it was the thing to do. I’ve learned my lesson. The Windsor Free Festival was looming large on the horizon, and I was determined to go, but needed to be well prepared for this nine-day haze of peace, love and hopefully attracting girls. So I rushed down to the local department store, House of Fraser in Guildford, to get me a pair of ‘Robert Plants’. I took the tightest pair of denim flares I could possibly find and headed for the changing rooms. There a kindly assistant (looking back on it she was probably no more than 20, but seemed very mature to me) tutted disapprovingly as I emerged from my cubicle.
“I don’t wish to sound like your mum, but clearly those trousers will not allow for ‘growth’. Also they leave nothing to the imagination and you could do yourself an injury.” That was what she said. But what I heard was, “You look like Robert Plant, and if I wasn’t stuck here in this shop I would chase you down the street.”
Led Zeppelin. Warning: This clip has flashing lights and some very tight trousers
So I bought the jeans. My helper’s parting shot was something like, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If I had a crystal ball I’d predict that one day the fashion is going to be wearing shorts, with a shirt tied round your waist, just like the little boys in the playground. Amazingly, she was right, as the world witnessed when Axl Rose and Guns N’ Roses drove Wembley crazy in 1992. I read an interview with Robert Plant recently, where he admitted that before a gig he used to don a pair of ultra-tight jeans, jump in the bath and then they would shrink to fit. This helped him to sing in such a high voice and to leave nothing to the imaginations of the people (and strategically-placed cameras) in the front row, gazing up at him. After the gig, the roadies would draw lots to see whose turn it would be to cut Plant’s jeans off. That’s rock’n’roll baby.
A few days later the image of crystal balls flashed through my mind as I writhed in agony in the fetid gloom of a makeshift medical tent that had been hastily erected at the festival. I lay curled in a ball among row upon row of wounded and injured festival goers. The guy next to me had cut his finger trying to open a can of baked beans with a penknife. He was bleeding a little bit and needed an Elastoplast. Another unfortunate had been tripping- he tripped over a guy rope- and had grazed his knee. One poor geezer had bumped his head and was doing his best to ‘be brave’, while a nurse was trying to see if anyone could find his mum. It was like something out of Dante’s Inferno. Actually Dante’s Inferno was the name of the band that were onstage playing ‘Willie and the Hand Jive’ when, as happens at all great festivals, the heavens opened and everyone ran for cover. Everyone, that is, except me. My waterlogged denims had immediately shrunk, and walking, let alone running, was suddenly the most painful thing in the world.
Looking back on it, everything had gone just great for me on the first day. My trousers were attracting attention like nobody’s business. But I soon discovered that there was a serious flaw in my plan: once you have caught a girl’s eye, what do you talk about? I did what I usually do: talk about what I already know. But my two main subjects were ‘O’ Level Biology and British rock and pop from 1967 to 1974. I now understand that dissecting rats and whether Jethro Tull’s Benefit was better than Aqualung are not subjects that are going to cut the mustard when it comes to maintaining a girl’s attention, let alone make her want to strike up a relationship with you. Or so I thought…
Before the Flood: Me at Windsor 1974 (with the tight trousers)
…Finally, once the worst cases had been dealt with, it was my turn to undergo some ‘treatment’. “Wow!” enthused my ‘nurse’, “That must have been some downpour. You’re the 15th case of ‘Robert Plant Trouser’ I’ve had to deal with today. By the way, my name’s Felicity. I’m not a real nurse. When the first casualties came streaming in there was an urgent request for anyone with a medical background to come and help. I told them I only had ‘O’ Level Biology, but that was enough for me to be put here on the front line. That reminds me, (brandishing some scissors and looking where she was going to make her first incision) have you ever dissected a mouse?”
The long and the short of it was that Felicity cut my trousers off and I was left standing in my boxers. Nursie was full of advice. “Don’t worry. If you take your shirt off and wrap it round your middle you can look like a little boy in the playground. There are plenty of other guys walking around looking just the same. I think it could be the look of the future.” And sure enough, I didn’t stand out at all among the crowd of lads who had been ‘treated’ by ‘Nurse’ Felicity. Later on I stubbed my toe and had to go back for more treatment. Felicity and I got talking, and her eyes were drawn to my Jethro Tull T-shirt. I was delighted to find out that she was a Tull fan, and I was even more delighted that she held Benefit in very high regard.
After that initial chat, we seemed to bond very well, and Felicity cleverly expanded my repertoire of things I could talk about. What about that new band called Queen? Did I think they would ever make it big? (Not a chance). She even gave me her phone number so we could practice talking about things that neither of us knew anything about, but might be of interest; e.g. would the Vietnam War ever end (hopefully), would a US president ever get impeached (no chance), and would the New York ‘punk’ bands like The Ramones and Talking Heads influence a new wave of UK pop that would sweep the nation and consign bands like The Eagles to the hippie trashcan of rock history (that could NEVER happen!)
Guns N’ Roses: Crystal ball gazing.
Trousers? Led Zep? Guns N’ Roses? What’s all that about? Well, in many ways teenage boys are not unlike young children. They enjoy talking, but can sometimes feel a little nervous in strange situations or talking in groups when away from home. Talking in nursery can sometimes pose a challenge for young children, particularly when the adults can’t quite tune into what they are saying or the children are in the early stages of learning English as an additional language. In these situations it is useful to find out what the children already know about, and talk about that: rather than trying to talk about something new.
So if a two year-old is wearing a Peppa Pig T shirt, you can guarantee that she will be very pleased if you talk to her about Peppa. If you know about Peppa’s little brother George and muddy puddles, then the chances are that you will be able to strike up a conversation that will make sense to both of you, and could help you begin to build a bond. Children like to talk about people and experiences that are not in context; i.e. that you haven’t shared together. But this can be a challenge if you can’t fully understand what they are saying. One way to help children talk about topics that are out of context is to ask parents to bring in photos of the children’s grandparents, or their dog, or even their front door. As long as you know that the grandad is known as ‘Bampy’ and the dog is ‘Waggy’, then the child can learn to talk about people and experiences that they know lots about, but about which you know next to nothing.
Once children have built up their confidence, and improved their language skills, you can introduce new ideas, which they can go home and talk to their parents about. To help this along, you might send a few photos home of the child doing something new; e.g. playing with stacking beakers, or washing up their plate and bowl after they have had a snack (that would be in a Montessori nursery.) This gives the parents the chance to talk with their children about an experience that mum and dad have not been involved in. And that, my friends, is the beginning of storytelling and the decontextualized use of language: both of which are vital for reading and creative writing.
By chatting with Felicity I quickly picked up lots of new subjects and strategies that helped me broaden my ability to talk sense with other people. If you meet me now we can have a great chat… about what YOU know about and are interested in. Chances are that we would find that we have an interest in common that we can share in conversation: maybe children’s language or, who knows, even rock and pop (and festivals) from 1967 to 1974.
Take care out there
Michael
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4xoxFrRA2Q
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Hi Michael, in our setting we use photos as a means of supporting children. We also use treasure boxes that the children make up at home with their families. I have my own box that I show to parents at the start of the year to give them ideas. We suggest they use something like a shoe box that they decorate the outside with stickers, wrapping paper or drawings and then put inside some of the children’s treasures. We stress that they should not include anything precious, breakable or expensive. They could put in photos, a shell from the beach, a small toy from a day trip or any number of miscellaneous things that children collect. We are then able to sit one to one with the children as the box is open. Often a small crowd gathers, but only if the owner of the box is comfortable with an audience do we make this a group activity. Usually it is done one to one at the start. We have found most children relax when they are looking at photos and objects they are familiar with.
Hi Carol
Thank you for replying. I have been doing the same , and we call them ‘All About Me Boxes’. They were a very big success as part of our work with Every Child a Talker.
I should think that the children you care for are great talkers!
Best wishes
Michael
I have been struggling along with a new lad in my class who mainly talks in the third person and almost exclusively in terms of Disney films, star wars , the land before time etc etc. Luckily I have had a fantastic transition period from his previous class team…We are all getting there and I have some criteria in my head now as to what success will look like for him by the end of his year 11. After one particularly torrid day the week before last I was still taken aback (after all these years surrounded by autistic “stuff”) when his Mum told me on the phone that as far as he was concerned I was Obi Wan Kinobi and he was Anakin Skywalker just before he turned into Darth Vader: I.e he knew he was the “baddie” and I was the “goodie” but that was very firmly the way it was.
My point is, the staff who work and interact with this fascinating young man have to not just have a passing knowledge of subjects of vague interest to him, but an encyclopaedic knowledge of the plot and characters of quite a few Hollywood feature films, in order to tempt him into our “real world” for brief periods of time before he goes back to “be” in the world that provides him with whatever it is he needs to feel comfortable.
You tell a fine 70’s festival story Michael. I was approached, whilst playing in a pub in Portsmouth when I was about 17, by a major league hippy to perform at the Windsor free festival. Here’s an example of the use of language, which stuck with me, as a way of beating around the bush. What he wanted to say was that he wasn’t going to pay me for my services. What he actually said was “I can’t offer you anything in the materialistic greenback scene man”…. No he actually did say that….. I’m not just remembering something from Nigel Planer’s turn as Neil in The Young Ones. You couldn’t make it up.
Re “Percy” Plant. I’m usually the nerd looking at amplifiers and guitar effects pedals rather than the tightness of the lead singers trousers. However when I saw Plant fronting Strange Sensation at Womad about 10 years ago I could not take my eyes off him. He seemed to exude charisma in absolute bucketloads. When he was younger I assume this charisma had a hugely sexualised component. Aided in no small part by the tightness of the velvet loonpants. But my experience was just of an aura of owning the stage completely. Extraordinary. Oh and Justin Adams guitar playing was good too.
Pip Pip TD
PS Funny clip somewhere of Jagger and Bowie joshing about a spoof lead singers magazine to rival “Guitarist or “The Drummer” They thought they might call it “The Trouser” hilarious.
Hi Tim
What a story! I sometimes think that I take ‘reality’ for granted.
Did you perform at Windsor in the end. It was a crazy experience. Absolutely no facilities for 10,000 people. The only ‘toilets’ involved climbing over a barbed wire fence and visiting the cornfields that belong to The Queen. No water, no nothing. I’m planning to write lots more about this event on my other blog site, and am working on a novel that has some key incidents that take place at the festival.
Best wishes
Michael
PS Your ‘hippie speak’ example is amazing!
Hi again Tim!
On the subject of Led Zeppelin, check out this recent interview with Jimmy Page about the creation of ‘Stairway’. And to think I lived just seven miles away in Haslemere at the time!
http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-29550639
And here’s Plant himself talking about African music. Awesome!!!
http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-29142652
No never went. My Mum wouldn’t have let me. Never went to the Isle of Wight festival in 1970 to see Hendrix either, never allowed to wear a ex army greatcoat either, same reason.
Probably why I’m scrabbling around in festival fields churning out Hillbilly rock and roll now, approaching 60.
There were some other great festival shambles in the 70’s as well weren’t there? My friend (Lead Curst Son) Willi was there and has some good stories.
Life in Portsmouth in the 70’s was fun though, I remember another short “sweet” piece of language which I had not previously encountered from another sub cultural tribe, when a skinhead was menacing me and offering me “digs” I had no idea what “digs” were. He helpfully elaborated and I found out that it was short for “digs to the face” I.e. punches administer to my boyish proto hippy good looks.I think my soppy uncomprehending look probably spared me the actual deployment of said “digs”
By 1973 I compromised by having extremely (big) long hair and wearing brogues, sta-prest and a Fred Perry to school. That way I could confuse people and hopefully offend no one. Potentially obviously offend everyone (including my Mum) which is why I became a very good talker and fast runner…
I look forward to the novel