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...best example of Plant's consummate syncopated singing in which he takes cognizance of each word past and forthcoming, and deftly employs the syllables to counterpoise the principal rhythm. "The Lemon Song" is a tongue-in-cheek medley of blues cliches, even to the point of "down on this killin floor." Although the band is almost as wry as the Beatles in "Yer Blues" or "Helter Skelter," the result here as there does not prove durable. Led Zeppelin's only ostensible love song. "Thank You," is quite frustrating. Page assumes a twelve-string and Plant emulsifies his voice for such...

Author: By Chris Rochester, | Title: The Rock Freak Led Zeppelin II | 12/3/1969 | See Source »

...them nigger lovers, are ya now?" An inaudible reply. "Well ah'm sure relieved to hear that. We've got so sick of all these hippies and nigger lovers that come down here. Just makes you want to bash 'em and clean the town up--just like killin' the rats so's decent people can have a place to live...

Author: By James M. Fallows, | Title: Southern Schizophrenia: | 10/7/1968 | See Source »

Between attacks, Yul and his boys talk a lot about killin'. Some like, some don't. One claims that "it gets inside of you." Another has suicidal urges, and a couple of the gunmen frankly prefer fooling around with women. Gradually it becomes clear that Seven is a ludicrous reprise of The Magnificent Seven (1960), which, in turn, was a remake of Akira Kurosawa's magnificent, often profound 1954 drama about a septet of chivalrous samurai in late feudal Japan. Only holdover from Hollywood's previous Seven is Brynner, repeating his role as ringleader with...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Cinema: Yul Team | 10/28/1966 | See Source »

...casually announced "Them's incoming sixties landin' over there 'bout a hundred yards. Nothin' to worry about." He took off his helmet wiped his face. "You know, we Airborne, we like to get things done real fast, get in there quick and out quick killin' as we go. Here in Viet Nam there ain't no hurrying. We send five hundred men out on squad-sized patrols every day back at base. And we get nothing. Maybe this time...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: World: The Name of the Game Is Zap, Zap, Zap | 9/24/1965 | See Source »

Then something snapped. Standing in front of the funeral home, a small group of Negroes began to sing. "Before I'll be a slave," they chanted, "I'll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord." Other Negroes joined in. "No more killin' here, no more killin' over here." Soon a whole chorus of swaying, hand-clapping people was sobbing, "No more Jim Crow over here, over here; I'm dead before I'd be a slave...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Nation: Life & Death in Jackson | 6/21/1963 | See Source »

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