Bonzo on a miniature drum set at his home. Photo taken early January 1970. Here’s a small story on why he bought this drum set. In an interview with Melody Maker John Bonham had said: “We try to record a lot when we’re not doing gigs so we don’t get stale. The awards are really great. Twelve months ago, I didn’t expect we would get one. It’s been complete chaos for us recently as Robert, John and I have all been busy buying houses and getting ready for Christmas. It will be the first Christmas at home for me with my son Jason (age three). Last year I was away and before that he was too young to know. He’s music mad and I’ve bought him a great set of miniature drums. It’s an absolutely perfect replica down to the bass drum pedal and hi-hat. Even I can play them. They are Japanese made and I saw them in a shop in Toronto. They weren’t really for sale and were just on display. But I offered them a hundred dollars and bought them……

 

In the quiet of his home, amidst the hustle and bustle of recent months, John Bonham found a rare moment of calm. The early days of January 1970 felt like the perfect time to reflect on the whirlwind of activity that had defined the past year. Despite the chaos—tours, recording sessions, awards, and the impending holiday season—Bonzo’s mind wandered to his son, Jason, and the little joys that made life meaningful.

 

Bonzo’s love for music was legendary, but it was also intertwined with his desire to share that passion with his family. As the drummer of Led Zeppelin, he was no stranger to fame, but at heart, he was a family man who cherished quiet moments at home. This particular Christmas was going to be special; it would be the first time Jason experienced the holiday at home with his father. Last year, Bonzo had been away on tour, and before that, his son was too young to grasp the significance of the festivities. Now, at age three, Jason was music mad—an energetic, curious boy who loved banging on pots and pans, mimicking his father’s drumming, and exploring sounds with an infectious enthusiasm.

 

One afternoon, while wandering through a shop in Toronto—a city Bonzo had visited during a tour—he stumbled upon a display of miniature drums. They were Japanese-made, beautifully crafted, and remarkably detailed. Though not officially for sale, they sat on a shelf, almost as if waiting for a special owner. Bonzo’s eyes lit up at the sight of them. To him, they were more than just tiny drums; they were a perfect replica of his own kit, down to the bass drum pedal and hi-hat. He approached the shopkeeper, and after a brief negotiation, offered a hundred dollars for the display set. To Bonzo, it was a small investment for a gift that would bring immeasurable joy to his son.

 

He envisioned Jason’s delight as he unwrapped the miniature drums, imagining his son’s tiny hands pounding on them with an innocent enthusiasm. For Bonzo, it wasn’t just about giving a toy; it was about creating a connection, passing down a love for music, and fostering a future drummer. The miniature set was a symbol of that bond—a tangible piece of his world that he could share with Jason, even if only in a small way.

 

In an interview with Melody Maker, Bonzo had spoken openly about his busy schedule and aspirations. “We try to record a lot when we’re not doing gigs so we don’t get stale,” he said, emphasizing their relentless dedication to their craft. Despite the grueling pace, Bonzo acknowledged the importance of recognizing achievements, “The awards are really great. Twelve months ago, I didn’t expect we would get one.” His humility shone through as he reflected on the chaos of recent months—balancing recording, touring, and personal life.

 

He also shared a glimpse into his personal life, revealing that his family was his sanctuary amidst the chaos. “It’s been complete chaos for us recently as Robert, John, and I have all been busy buying houses and getting ready for Christmas,” he explained. This holiday season was especially meaningful, not just because of the festivities but because it marked a rare opportunity for Bonzo to be at home with his loved ones.

 

For Bonzo, the miniature drum set was more than a souvenir or a toy. It embodied the spirit of the season, a symbol of love, family, and the simple pleasures that kept him grounded amid the chaos of rock stardom. Watching his son’s fascination with music and drumming, Bonzo saw the future—one where Jason might someday sit behind a real drum kit, playing with the same passion that Bonzo did.

 

That early January day, Bonzo sat at home, holding the miniature drums and imagining Jason’s joyful reaction. He pictured his son’s face lighting up as he unwrapped the gift, his tiny hands eager to explore these perfect little replicas. It was a moment of quiet happiness, a reminder that amidst the accolades, the chaos, and the fame, the true treasures in life were the moments shared with family.

 

In the years to come, those miniature drums would sit on a shelf, a cherished reminder of that Christmas—an emblem of a father’s love and a boy’s budding passion for music. For Bonzo, it was a small purchase, but one that carried immense meaning, symbolizing the balance between the chaos of rock and the serenity of home life. It was a testament to his desire to nurture his family’s happiness and to pass on his love for music to the next generation.

 

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