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John Bonham's brother Mick recalls this night in his book 'My Brother John':  "Come May 23rd, Jacko (father), Debbie (sister) and myself, along with a good friend of mine set off to see for ourselves how the band had progressed since we had last seen them at Trentham Gardens. As soon as the band walked onstage, to rapturous applause, we were in awe at the whole bloody size of it. Showco had shipped in the PA system and light show that was used on their American tour and above the stage a huge video screen showing close up views of the band as they went about their business. For three and a half hours, we were treated to rock music from a band that you just know were glad to be home. Every enthusiastic move by the band was highlighted in a show that was second to none. Laser beams fired above the heads of the audience gave the effect of flaming arrows when they reflected off a mirror ball, filling the vast hall with snowflakes and stars..."

Press Review: 5-23-75: Led Zeppelin were due to begin their Friday concert at 8pm. To anyone familiar with the habits of rock superstars, this could be interpreted as a laggardly and reluctant 9:30. I myself entered the precincts of Earls Court at three minutes to eight, just as a thunder began in the arena and hundreds of people from every direction dashed towards it as if they were missing a train.

Those acquainted with the writings of Mr. Tony palmer will be conscious today already that Led Zeppelin are the greatest band in the world, if not the entire solar system. With Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull and a few others they share the massive emotional legacy from the years of acid and heavy rock. Where they diverge from their contemporaries – and indeed, from Mr Palmer – is in their uncharacteristic modesty; a diffident asceticism which only goads their millions of admirers to infatuation even more extravagant.

In a concert lasting three hours, that modesty was demonstrated in strange contrasts with the richness of Zeppelin’s material resources. Their playing was transmitted from a colour videotape screen suspended from the roof, while far to the front, an occasional spasm of Robert Plant’s flying hair or Jimmy Page’s hair communing with his guitar, or the tinsel of the drums, revealed the edited illusion to be based on continuous events.  Beams of coloured light through the upper darkness swept and changed to a mysterious formula, while the darkness below seethed with stumbling figures still unable to credit that it had begun.

There can no longer be any doubt of Zeppelin’s colossal virtuosity. The sound system after its initial chaos, assumed an absolute balance in with the voice of Plant and the guitar of Page portrayed the best, as well as primordially the worst of heavy electric music.  There was smoke and artificial lighting, and three laser beams upon a squeaking and screeching uproar, like a colony of bats. There was gentle country guitar-picking, sitting on chairs. There was No Quarter, which is of concerto length; there was Tangerine, which is so airily brief. Dinosaurs coexisted somehow with madrigals in that one large vessel of noise.

What is impressive above all about Led Zeppelin is their lack of conceit; the inner concord, that one sees in their existence. Robert Plant drinks tea on stage. Plant, when he spoke over that remarkable sound system, was the only rock singer to whose words I have ever paid the smallest attention. [P. Norman / Times / 5-75]