It’s James Patrick Page’s birthday today. Quite bizarre to think of Jimmy as an acquaintance; just a few years ago, if you would have told me I would end up at Jimmy Page´s house, drinking tea and talking about records, I would have told you to fuck off. Actually, if you would have told me I was EVER going to be in the same place as Jimmy Page, I would have told you to fuck off, too. I mean, come on. Jimmy Page, one of the most creative and influential guitarists of our times, hanging out with some random Venezuelan kid? Not in a million years.
And then, on July 17, 2010… just because life is beautiful and unexpected and mysterious, I met him through my friend Ross at a record fair in Earl’s Court. We hung out all afternoon and then he invited me to go with him and Ross to see Wilco Johnson play at the 100 Club that night and even bought me a beer. Three days later, on my birthday, I saw him again at The Worx Studios, in Parsons Green, and got the chance to see his Gibson double neck up close. At the time, I thought it had been just a big streak of luck, a once in a lifetime experience, but then we met again and again and again to the point in which seeing him wasn’t as shocking as realizing I could potentially ran into him at any given moment. For a Led Zeppelin fan that’s just mental.
The coolest thing of all this is that every single time we met, he was an true gentleman. He was always laid back, friendly and really nice to me. Maybe it’s because I never bothered him with pictures or hassled him asking moronic fan questions, maybe he was just being polite because I was friends with Ross, or maybe he just liked me a little bit. Whatever the reason, I’m very proud to have met him and really happy to have a bunch of terrific memories I would never forget.
So, you keep on rocking too, Sir. Happy birthday.