You know that feeling when a song starts with an electric piano riff that just feels like a physical shrug? That’s Misty Mountain Hop. It’s the second track on Led Zeppelin’s untitled fourth album—the one everyone calls Led Zeppelin IV—and honestly, it’s one of the weirdest things they ever put to tape. It isn’t a heavy blues stomp like "Black Dog" or a mystical odyssey like "Stairway to Heaven." Instead, it’s this bouncy, almost nervous celebration of getting caught in a park with some weed and wishing you were somewhere else.
John Paul Jones is the real MVP here. While Jimmy Page gets the glory for the riffs, the foundation of this track is Jonesy’s Hohner Electra-Piano. It’s funky. It’s clunky. It sounds like 1971 in a way that very few other songs do.
People usually lump it in with the "Tolkien songs," but that's kinda missing the point. Yeah, the title references The Hobbit, but the lyrics? They're about a real-world clash between the counterculture and the cops in London. It’s a protest song disguised as a campfire sing-along.
What actually happened at the Misty Mountain Hop?
Robert Plant didn't just pull these lyrics out of thin air while reading about Bilbo Baggins. The song is actually rooted in the "Legalise Cannabis" rally held at Hyde Park in London on July 7, 1968. If you look at the lyrics, they’re pretty literal. Plant sings about walking in the park and seeing people with flowers in their hair—a total hippie trope—and then the "man" shows up.
The police were there to clear the crowd. Plant describes the scene with a sort of detached, slightly paranoid amusement. He asks, "Hey boy, do you want to score?" but before anyone can answer, the "crowd began to gather" and the vibe shifted. It’s about that specific moment when the dream of the 1960s ran head-first into the reality of the 1970s law enforcement.
The "Misty Mountains" in the song aren't just a fantasy location. They represent an escape from the "civilized" world where you get hassled for sitting on the grass. When Plant sings about packing his bags for the Misty Mountains "where the spirits fly," he’s talking about checking out of society. He’s done with the city. He’s done with the arrests. He’s ready to go live in the woods or a commune or Middle-earth. Wherever the cops aren't.
The technical weirdness of the recording
The song was recorded at Headley Grange, the drafty old mansion in Hampshire where the band used the Rolling Stones Mobile Studio. This place is legendary for its acoustics—most notably the drum sound on "When the Levee Breaks"—but Misty Mountain Hop has its own unique sonic fingerprint.
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If you listen closely, the timing is slightly "off" in a way that makes it swing. Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones are playing the same riff, but the way John Bonham hits the drums creates this strange, syncopated tension. Bonham is playing a very straight, driving beat, but the riff itself feels like it’s tripping over its own feet.
It’s a masterclass in how to make a simple song sound complex.
- The Piano: John Paul Jones used a Hohner Electra-Piano. It has a very percussive, almost "duck-like" quack to it.
- The Vocals: Plant’s vocals are double-tracked. This gives them that slightly ghostly, shimmering quality.
- The Solo: Jimmy Page’s guitar solo is actually quite brief and messy. It fits the chaotic energy of a street protest turned sour.
Why people get the Tolkien references wrong
Everyone loves to point out that Led Zeppelin were nerds. And they were. Between "Ramble On," "The Battle of Evermore," and this track, they basically pioneered the "Lord of the Rings Rock" subgenre. But in Misty Mountain Hop, the Tolkien reference is a metaphor, not a literal retelling.
In The Hobbit, the Misty Mountains are dangerous. They are filled with goblins and giants. But for Plant, they represented the wild, untamed wilderness. It’s a classic Romantic trope—the idea that nature is a refuge from the corruption of the city.
By the time the band recorded this in 1971, the "Summer of Love" was a distant memory. The Beatles were gone. Altamont had happened. The dream was kind of over. So, the "Misty Mountains" became a symbol for any place where you could still be free. It’s less about Frodo and more about a guy who is tired of getting poked by the police and just wants to go be a hippie in peace.
The John Bonham factor
You can’t talk about this song without talking about the drums. Most drummers would have played a simple 4/4 beat here and called it a day. Bonzo didn’t do that. He stays slightly behind the beat on the snare, which gives the song its "hop."
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There’s a specific "thump" to the bass drum in this track that feels like it's hitting you in the chest. Because Headley Grange had such high ceilings and stone walls, the drums have a natural reverb that you just can't get in a modern studio. It sounds big. It sounds like a giant walking through the park.
Interestingly, the band almost didn't include it on the album. They felt it was a bit too "pop" compared to the heavier stuff they were working on. But once they heard the way the riff locked in with the drums, they knew they had a hit. It ended up being the B-side to the "Black Dog" single, which is a hell of a two-punch for any record.
A live staple with a twist
When Zeppelin played this live, it usually moved into "Since I've Been Loving You." The contrast was wild. You’d go from this upbeat, bouncy piano riff straight into a dark, brooding blues epic.
On the 1972-1973 tours, the song was a highlight because it allowed John Paul Jones to show off. In the film The Song Remains the Same, you can see the band’s chemistry during this era. They weren't just playing notes; they were reacting to each other. If Bonham pushed the tempo, Page followed. If Jones slowed down the groove, the whole song breathed.
How to actually appreciate the song today
If you want to understand why this song still hits, stop thinking of it as a "classic rock" museum piece. Listen to it as a piece of social commentary.
We live in an era where the tension between people in public spaces and authority is still a huge deal. The feeling of wanting to "hop" away to a mountain where nobody bothers you is pretty universal.
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Pro tip for the audiophiles: Grab a high-quality vinyl pressing or a lossless digital version. Focus entirely on the left channel for a bit, then the right. You’ll hear how Page’s guitar parts are layered. He isn't just playing one riff; he's playing several slight variations that create a wall of sound that feels much thicker than it actually is.
The Gear Behind the Sound
Jimmy Page used his 1959 Fender Telecaster for some of the overdubs, though his "Number One" Gibson Les Paul did the heavy lifting. The amp was likely a Supro or a Vox AC30, pushed to the limit to get that fuzzy, slightly breaking-up tone. It’s not a "clean" sound, but it isn’t "metal" either. It’s just... grimy.
Actionable Insights for Zeppelin Fans:
- Check the 1972 Berkeley Live Recording: There are bootlegs of their June 1972 performance in Berkeley where "Misty Mountain Hop" sounds absolutely ferocious. It’s much faster than the studio version and shows the song's punk-rock DNA.
- Learn the Riff: If you’re a keyboard player, this is one of the best "feel" exercises you can do. The notes are easy; the "swing" is the hard part.
- Read the 1968 Hyde Park News Reports: To get the full context of the lyrics, look up the "Legalise Cannabis" rally. Seeing the photos of the police moving through the crowds of "flower children" makes the lyrics click instantly.
- Listen for the "Mistake": At about 2:10 into the song, there's a slight stumble in the rhythm that the band decided to keep. It adds to the "human" feel of the track that modern, quantized music lacks.
Ultimately, Misty Mountain Hop is a song about the friction of being alive in a world that wants to put you in a box. It’s fun, it’s a bit silly, and it’s deeply British. It reminds us that even one of the biggest bands in the world once felt like they just wanted to pack their bags and disappear into the hills.
To dive deeper into the Led Zeppelin catalog, compare the drum mixing on this track to the isolated drum tracks of "When the Levee Breaks" to see how the band manipulated space and room tone. You can also explore the 2014 remasters overseen by Jimmy Page, which bring out the Hohner piano's mid-tones more clearly than any previous release.