“I WAS INSATIABLE!”
JIMMY Page is two minutes late. His excuse though, is an impeccable one. “I never like to mess up the schedule but I just needed a minute on my guitar,” he pleads, as though excusing some borderline diagnosable peccadillo. “The thing is, I want to stay match-fit. You lose it otherwise. And, you know, I don’t intend to lose it…” Still practising his artistry at the age of 75, there are other ways Page remains true to the cause. In black leather jacket, jeans, shirt and Chelsea boots – the only colour relief comes from polka dots on a scarf and the famous white ponytailed hair – he looks every inch the raffish troubadour.
Strolling the lobby of the Kensington Gore hotel, footmen nod with respect as he sprays a toothy smile about. There’s a sense of occasion. Passing guests whisper to each other. As his boots click down the hall to the lounge, he could easily be a sheriff in a John Ford western come to slurp a post-gunfight whiskey at the best hotel in town.
Page has been relatively active these past few years. During Led Zeppelin’s reissue programme, he was both curator and the public face for the band, a role he continued last year during their 50th-anniversary celebrations. He also masterminded a Yardbirds’ ’68 live set that underscored the vivid power of the four-piece, Page-led incarnation. Now he has turned his attention to his own capacious archives.
“I’ve been having so much fun doing this project,” he asserts as we gather round a coffee table laden with advanced pages from his new book. “I have amassed such a lot of photos, clothes, instruments and other memorabilia over the
