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I've tried to wipe Led Zeppelin's Led Zeppelin III from my mind, but, for you, here's what I can remember...
Celebration Day is about as hip as my mother's attempts at the Lambada. It's a vision of hell that not many people live to see, I promise you. It's things like Out On The Tiles that makes people want to kill each other. Sixteen years of therapy and still I'm reduced to a gibbering wreck by things like track six, Gallows Pole.
Track 7, Tangerine sounds like the little ticking noise that maggots make as they feed from its start right through to its (bleated) finish. The chorus of That's The Way will haunt me for years to come, sounding as it does like a dawn chorus of chickens slowly being ground into mince for the cheap meat market. Ouch. Track 10, the 'Roy' of Hats Off To Harper will not only remove the enamel from your teeth, but charge you for its professional dental services afterwards.
It is difficult to stop yourself from throwing a brick at your CD player when tosh like the opening track, Immigrant Song comes out of it on a regular basis. Track five, Out On The Tiles sounds like a coked-up Andrew Lloyd-Webber writing a never-ending stream of musical obscenities dribbling through my ears and out onto the carpet from its start right through to its (bleated) finish. Four people died whilst track seven, Tangerine was being created. I can only say that they are the lucky ones and missed out on what sounds like the elephant man attempting to whistle the Muzak back catalogue.
Track 9, Bron-Y-Aur Stomp should have been left off this album. It's marginally better than the rest and, frankly, only draws attention to their simplistic banality.
In fact, a fruits of the forest yoghurt has more cultural significance.
If you still like this crap, go buy it on amazon or something.
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