The Beatles—John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr—teamed up with Colgate-Palmolive in 1965 for one of the quirkiest pieces of Fab Four memorabilia: the Colgate Soaky Bubble Bath Bottles. Captured in a delightfully retro video ad, the animated commercial showcases plastic bottles shaped like each member of the band, bringing Beatlemania to the bathtub.
1. The Who – “I Can’t Explain” (1964, rhythm guitar)
Before power chords became Pete Townshend’s religion, Jimmy Page was called in to lay down some of the earliest textures on this proto-punk gem. His rhythm guitar snakes under the surface like a quiet storm. You can hear him setting the fuse for the explosion The Who would become. Mod mayhem starts here—with Page as the secret architect.
2. Donovan – “Hurdy Gurdy Man” (1968, electric guitar)
This song sounds like flower power met a fuzz pedal in an alley and came out with bruises. Jimmy’s guitar is molten. It burns through Donovan’s mystic whispers like incense caught in a lightning storm. Rumor has it Zeppelin was born in this studio session—Plant and Bonham were meant to play, too.
3. Joe Cocker – “With a Little Help From My Friends” (1968, lead guitar)
You know that wailing, soulful cry of the guitar right before Cocker tears his vocal cords in two? That’s Page. He wrings agony from the strings like he’s squeezing rain from the sky. The Beatles wrote it, Cocker owned it, but Page lit the fire under it with a torch only he could wield.
4. Brenda Lee – “Is It True” (1964, guitar solo)
Wait, Brenda Lee? The same one who sang “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”? Yup. Page delivers a solo that punches harder than any holiday tune ever could. He’s all reverb and swagger, turning this pop track into a rockabilly bruiser. Imagine a leather-jacketed Elvis in London—Page was the kid holding his amp.
5. Them – “Baby Please Don’t Go” (1964, session guitar)
Before Van Morrison was your mom’s favorite Celtic crooner, he fronted Them—a snarling Belfast blues band. Page’s guitar barks just behind the beat like a chained beast dying to be let loose. It’s primal, raw, and straight out of a smoky basement club. Morrison growls, Page growls back.
6. Nico – “The Last Mile” (1965, guitar work)
Nico before the Velvets is a trip, and Page provides the winding, spectral guitar lines on this haunting ballad. It’s a far cry from the thunder of Zep, but here he plays with ghostly restraint. He colors silence with sound, hinting at the drama he’d later amplify with a violin bow.
7. The Kinks – “I’m a Lover Not a Fighter” (1964, uncredited guitar)
You want to hear British R&B before the Beatles got mystical? This track is a time capsule. Page’s guitar is buried under the mix, but it’s there, ducking and weaving like a boxer who’s tired of jabs and ready to throw haymakers. Another notch in Page’s studio belt before the world knew his name.
8. Marianne Faithfull – “Something Better” (1968, guitar)
This is swinging London at dusk. Page’s delicate fretwork wraps around Faithfull’s voice like a fog rolling over the Thames. He doesn’t dominate—he dances, guiding the tune to something truly cinematic. For a man known for volume, this is a masterclass in tasteful understatement.
9. P.J. Proby – “Jim’s Blues” (1964, blues guitar)
One of the few times he steps fully into the spotlight as a soloist during his session days. Page just wails on this one—no studio tricks, no double-tracking, just Jimmy vs. the blues. You can practically hear the calluses forming on his fingers in real time.
10. Shirley Bassey – “Goldfinger” (1964, guitar overdubs)
The Bond classic is pure brass and bombast—but listen closely to those shimmering guitar licks behind Shirley’s voice. That’s Page, adding the cool menace under all the glam. He didn’t get a credit, but he left fingerprints all over the most iconic spy theme of all time.
Long before he climbed the stairway to rock immortality, Jimmy Page was everywhere and nowhere—London’s invisible hand, bending strings behind the curtain. These songs are the breadcrumbs that led to Zeppelin, proof that greatness doesn’t arrive fully formed—it leaks out, quietly, on other people’s hits.
