How turning down Woodstock was the move that made Led Zeppelin

As the sun perched its rays in a sequined sea of muddy puddles spotted around a field in Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix became the Jesus Christ of counterculture in front of 500,000—quite literally, in the eyes of one reveller. Stoned out of his mind on acid, one humble attendee genuinely thought that Hendrix had transubstantiated into Christ before his very eyes.

This accountant had been an atheist prior to seeing Jesus shred ‘Foxy Lady’, now he wasn’t sure what to think. Led Zeppelin were, ironically, looking to assert themselves as the next gods of rock in a more figurative sense, but they boldly turned down the chance to play in front of half a million “very friendly people” as the tagline for the famed concert film put it.

Instead, they decided to play Astbury Park. Their grand performance unfurled during the second day of Woodstock. “By that time, the city was awash with tales, stories and rumours of what was happening at the festival,” Jimmy Page recalled. Murrmurings of biblical transubstitions, stark raving murders in the midst, and drugs so potent they could make your brain squirm were scurrying about the nation. But, strangely, little was said of the performances.

This, in part, was a huge reason why Led Zeppelin rejected their invite. The group weren’t just newcomers trying to catch a break. Jimmy Page was an esteemed producer who had already worked with a plethora of stars. In fact, Robert Plant was pretty much the only member who hadn’t rubbed shoulders with a superstar, so they were notably savvy in their approach.

Why did Led Zeppelin reject Woodstock?
“We didn’t do Woodstock because our manager thought we would be typecast,” Plant would later confirm. And being typecast was the one thing they were looking to avoid. It seems ironic to say given that Woodstock attracted a crowd of unrivalled proportions, but it seemed to many people that counterculture in its hippiest format was beginning to wane.

Beset by a sense of growing unrest, the times were reaching a pinnacle, and Led Zeppelin were keen to be the frontrunners of a new revolution rather than tagalongs to the last. So, they made that clear by shunning Woodstock and attracting a legion of their own fans to New Jersey. Buoyed by the rumours sweeping over the country, they knew that they had to put on a dramatic show of their own.

The Convention Hall might have only held around 3,600 fans but across their two shows, they left over 7,000 fans spilling out into the warm night proclaiming that they had just seen the future of rock ‘n’ roll. The same can not be said for Woodstock. Sure, some folks enjoyed it, one guy seen Christ on the main stage, and everyone left saying ‘I was there’, but even Grace Slick – a star seemingly made in its image – said it was a disappointment.

Just as the sheen was wearing off the peace and love movement, Led Zeppelin were casting a long, dark shadow. Mystique was a central tenet of their appeal. They had one foot in the future of rock ‘n’ roll and another firmly planted in its devilish, bluesy past, where lore and legend were key. Fighting against the rumours of Woodstock entrenched them further in this shadowy realm, and it became a signature of their sound—they would refuse to play ball with the mainstream forevermore, even forgoing the release of singles.

As the tragic events of the Charles Manson murders followed hot on the heels of Woodstock, their darker design seemed to herald a new zeitgeist. The revolution was over, and a new one had just begun.