One of the perks of keeping a blog is that years from now, I can look back and know just what I was listening to in August of 2009. While that will do a fine job of summing up August '09 Michelle, and all that I was doing in that time (since my memory is wired by music), it doesn't give a glimpse of the big picture. For that reason, I've decided to write about the "extraordinary four"; the four groups that will probably always be my favorites. The reason I've chosen four, besides the fact that it gels magnificently with 'extraordinary', is that when I start contemplating number five... I draw a blank. I could probably send myself to a panicked state if I really tried to figure out number five. But I've grown very comfortable with the extraordinary four, like a dress you can wear over and over (even when everyone else notices) or the ring that never comes off. With each group, I fell into a dreamy love affair, devouring every album, book, and film. So much of the fun stems from aimlessly perusing the internet for photos you've never seen, picking your favorite and deciding why, and trying to dissect the magic and better understand it. The thing that puts these groups at the top every time is that transcendent feeling that their music provokes, every single time. For me, nothing rivals that feeling. It enables me to believe that possibilities are infinite, and that anything is possible. So often it awes me to think that such a celestial feeling stems from something crafted by a seemingly normal group of guys, not much older than I am, sometimes in a matter of days. So often I wonder what to do with this feeling, and it seems the only thing to do is to write endlessly about it. I think it would be nearly impossible to capture such a sensation in text, but I think I'll spend my entire life trying.

Anyway, numéro un, the best of the best. For me, it will always be Led Zeppelin. I suppose I should start at the beginning... Of course, anyone who has lived any sort of civilized life since 1969 knows of Led Zeppelin and the classics; "Stairway to Heaven", "Whole Lotta Love", "Rock and Roll", "Black Dog", "Immigrant Song", "Dazed and Confused" -- You can't escape them on the radio. (Despite hardly ever releasing singles during their run.) Their presence was felt in my house as a young child, as my father is a fan. I always knew of their existence, but taste was never forced upon me. As I cascaded through the world of 90's pop, boy bands, and ridiculous radio hits of the new millennium, Led Zeppelin remained dormant in the back pages of my memory. I've always believed that influences are important, and that if you like any sort of artist, you should go back and listen to what inspired them -- Let it inspire you. I should also mention my mother's titillating obsession with 80's hair metal, as that is the era in which she came up. After trying that out, I realized that even the next-to-talentless musicians that peaked my mother's interest were heavily influenced by those who came before them, and once again, there was no escaping Led Zeppelin. Somewhere it the midst of all this, music became my 'thing'. Engrossing in whatever documentaries VH1 Classic had to offer, I knew I had to embrace Led Zeppelin and see what they were all about. So I gathered all CDs laying around my house, effectively stealing them from my father, and finally had my mind blown by a full album... Kind of. Physical Graffiti was within the batch. The bulky double disc set became the only CD that meant anything to me, even if disc one was missing. Still, I slid disc two into my falling-apart ghetto blaster I had received so many Christmases ago. The sun was setting, my room was getting darker, it was early in the year, a little before or a little after my birthday. The weather was departing from that knee-knocking chill experienced during the winter months, and I was due for testing at school in a few short hours. It's interesting that I recall these things, because in that instant, they didn't really matter. I lied my head beside the speakers, and somewhere between the hypnotic intro of "In the Light" and the thunderous climax of "Sick Again", I became magnificently entangled with this album. Each song melted into the other, like some sort of grand anthem, and it was enchanting. Suffice to say, it became my album. We went everywhere together. I carried it in my purse, and listened to it every chance I could. I turned my young brother onto it, and held him as he cried about his bad day, while "Bron-Yr-Aur" quietly set the mood. He now says that is his favorite song, because of that moment. I played it for my cousin for the very first time, and she had to stop what she was doing -- eating Doritos in her bra -- to feel "The Wanton Song". I played it in the car, singing along with others who loved it dearly. Most memorably, my father, who had, until then, unknowingly passed the torch. I remember distinctly that he turned to look at me in the back seat, at the start of every song, stunned that I knew every single word. I looked out the window, acting like I didn't feel his eyes, and continued to groove. I jumped for joy when I found a Led Zeppelin tee shirt, blatantly too large for my small frame, but bought it anyway -- so everyone knew that they were my band. I acquired the entire Led Zeppelin catalog within a year, read every single book, read every old article I could find, and must have watched The Song Remains the Same a hundred times. Throughout this journey, each song continued to hit me in a way it hadn't before, and gems were unearthed when I thought I had phased on them all... But the truth is, I can't capture the feeling I've just experienced, listening to "Ten Years Gone" and "Going to California" over and over just to feel what I'm saying. They didn't sell their souls to the devil, they just worked hard at their craft, and succeeded.