“I Yell Like a Bear”: Bonzo and the Thunderstorm of Rock

“I Yell Like a Bear”: Bonzo and the Thunderstorm of Rock

John Bonham, affectionately known as “Bonzo,” wasn’t just Led Zeppelin’s drummer—he was the thunder behind the storm. His signature pounding rhythms, bone-rattling intensity, and explosive technique gave the band its heartbeat. But what many fans may not know is that Bonham didn’t just play with ferocity—he roared with it.

“I really like to yell out when I’m playing,” Bonzo once admitted. “I yell like a bear to give it a boost. I like our act to be like a thunderstorm.” That vivid metaphor perfectly captured the experience of watching Led Zeppelin live: a raw, electrifying force of nature that surged through every corner of the venue. And Bonham was its epicenter, not just drumming—but unleashing energy, like lightning hitting the skins.

This primal yelling was part of Bonham’s immersive approach to performance. He wasn’t simply keeping time—he was the time. Every crash of the cymbal, every double kick from his famous Ludwig Speed King pedal, was infused with his voice, sometimes literally. His bear-like yells from behind the kit weren’t for show; they were spontaneous outbursts of adrenaline, erupting from the same place as his volcanic rhythms.

Bonham’s love for making the band feel like a thunderstorm reflects the elemental power he brought to Led Zeppelin’s sound. Whether in a slow, bluesy burn like “Since I’ve Been Loving You” or the relentless gallop of “Achilles Last Stand,” his drumming carried weight, presence, and atmosphere. Like a storm gathering on the horizon, Bonham built anticipation—and when he exploded, it was unforgettable.

This ferocity was never about chaos. Bonzo’s yelling, just like his playing, was always in service of the song. He was a master of dynamics, able to control the storm just as easily as he unleashed it. His yell wasn’t a gimmick—it was the sonic exhale of a man completely immersed in the moment, fueling the fury of the music.

Bonham’s thunder still echoes today. Modern drummers across genres cite him not just for his technical prowess but for his feel—that intangible quality that turned every Zeppelin performance into something seismic. And maybe that yell, that bear-like roar, is a symbol of what made him so unforgettable: a musician who played like his life depended on it, shaking the heavens with every beat.