But Yank fun is much less spirituel, so that God bless America, ‘One More Time’ is merely an annoying novelty stateside. Young moderns who’ve made the Detroit-Berlin adjustment may find their squelchy synth sounds humanistic young moderns whose asses sport parallel ports may dance till they crash. The nastiest bit: “These guys are so French I want to force-feed them and cut out their livers. Exactly why he hated it so much remains unclear, but then, Christgau’s rarely let any sort of actual criticism get in the way of his prose. Quite why anyone cares what the self-styled Dean of Rock Critics™ thinks is one of the enduring mysteries of the world of music - especially when he writes things like this startlingly jingoistic flag-waving dismissal of Daft Punk’s magnum opus, doing everything but accusing Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo of being cheese-eating surrender monkeys.
It would seem that, if they’re to help fill the void created by the demise of Cream, they will have to find a producer (and editor) and some material worthy of their collective attention.” Like the Beck group they are also perfectly willing to make themselves a two- (or, more accurately, one-a-half) man show. The nastiest bit: “In their willingness to waste their considerable talent on unworthy material the Zeppelin has produced an album which is sadly reminiscent of Truth.
Still, you can’t blame Page for taking offense to this - amongst other things, Mendelsohn calls Robert Plant “as foppish as Rod Stewart, but he’s nowhere near so exciting” and lambasts the guitarist as “a very limited producer and a writer of weak, unimaginative songs.” This review pissed off Jimmy Page so royally that he refused to speak to Rolling Stone for years, a fact that would cause the magazine much consternation throughout the ’70s as Led Zep bestrode the world like tight-trousered, mudshark-wielding commercial colossi. The critic: Rolling Stone’s John Mendelsohn
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