MusaIf Led Zeppelin were the gods of rock, then their temple was the hotel suite and their commandments were simple: Play loud. Party harder. Deny nothing.
Sure, we know them for thunderous drums, face-melting guitar solos, and vocals that could summon lightning. But when the stage lights dimmed, the real stories began and none has loomed larger (or weirder) than the infamous “mud shark incident” in Seattle.
Picture it: 1969. The Edgewater Inn, perched on Seattle’s waterfront, known for one unique feature—guests could fish straight from their hotel room windows. Sounds wholesome, right? Wrong. Enter Led Zeppelin, armed with roadies, wild imaginations, and a total disregard for the Geneva Convention of hotel etiquette.
Now, we won’t get too graphic (this is a cheeky blog post, not a courtroom transcript), but legend has it the band and some very enthusiastic groupies got… creative… with a freshly caught mud shark and a video camera. Whether it’s 100% true or just another exaggerated rock fable, one thing’s for sure: the story exploded, solidifying Led Zep’s rep as rock’s rowdiest wrecking crew.
But that wasn’t a one-off.
Hotel furniture? Obliterated. Televisions? Launched from balconies. Room service bills? Astronomical. Jimmy Page was known to dabble in occult books between solos. Bonham once rode a motorcycle through a hotel hallway. And Robert Plant? He strutted around declaring himself a golden god—and honestly, who was gonna argue?
It was chaos. It was decadent. It was the 70s turned up to 11.
And through all the madness, they still dropped albums that redefined music—Led Zeppelin IV, Physical Graffiti, Houses of the Holy—each a masterpiece wrapped in mayhem.
Of course, not everyone found the backstage antics charming. Critics called them arrogant. Authorities often tried to reign them in. But fans? Fans lived for it. Because Led Zeppelin wasn’t trying to be safe—they were there to shake the Earth.
Decades later, the mud shark story still swims through rock’s mythological waters. Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s not. But that’s the beauty of Zeppelin: they blurred the line between legend and reality so well, even they weren’t sure where one ended.
One thing’s for sure: no one, then or now, does it quite like them.
Long live the hammer of the gods.
Musa
Olaniyi Ayoola
