Picture this: a young guitarist, barely out of his teens, lending his talents to one of rock’s earliest anthems, only to later admit his part could have been tossed aside like yesterday’s newspaper. But here’s where it gets controversial – was that contribution even there in the final version? Dive in, and let’s unravel the mystery behind Jimmy Page’s ‘barely audible’ role on The Who’s iconic track, ‘I Can’t Explain.’
(Credits: Far Out / Alamy)
Mon 17 November 2025 19:30, UK
Rock and roll, when executed flawlessly, can soar to the heights of high art, transforming mere sounds into cultural phenomena. Yet, for the legions of unsung session musicians who backed some of the most legendary recordings ever made, it was often just another day job – punching in, playing their hearts out, and clocking out without a spotlight in sight. These behind-the-scenes wizards were typically thrilled to support the stars, happy to remain anonymous while elevating good songs to greatness.
That said, not every session player stayed in the shadows forever. Sometimes, those hidden gems would gradually emerge into the public eye, shedding their ‘working stiff’ label to become full-fledged rock icons. One of the most celebrated transformations belongs to Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page. Before he burst onto the scene as a Yardbirds member in 1966, Page was already a prolific session musician, contributing to countless recognizable tunes for artists spanning from The Kinks (‘I’m a Lover, Not a Fighter’) and Them (‘Here Comes the Night’) to chart-toppers by Petula Clark (‘Downtown’) and Shirley Bassey (‘Goldfinger’). It’s estimated he played on dozens, if not hundreds, of tracks during this period.
Although Page would go on to craft some of the most unforgettable guitar riffs in rock history, he displayed an impressive knack for subtlety early on – the kind of role-playing that added delicate, flavorful touches to transform solid melodies into timeless hits. For beginners in the music world, think of session musicians as the special effects team in a blockbuster movie: they enhance the scene without stealing the show, ensuring the final product shines brighter.
Yet, in at least one notable collaboration, Page himself later reflected that his involvement might have been superfluous. Speaking to Rolling Stone in 2012 about his part in The Who’s 1964 smash ‘I Can’t Explain,’ he confessed, ‘I don’t know, really, why I was brought in. I’m playing the riff in the background — behind Pete Townshend. I didn’t need to be there. You can barely hear me. But it was magical to be in the control room, listening back. You can’t be more privileged than that.’
At just 20 years old, Page was overjoyed to be part of this groundbreaking single from what would become one of Britain’s most influential rock bands. The Who, with their explosive energy and innovative style (think Pete Townshend’s pioneering guitar-smashing antics), were just starting their ascent. Page’s participation, no matter how minor he perceived it, connected him to that early wave of success.
And this is the part most people miss – the accounts from those involved paint a conflicting picture of Page’s actual impact on the track. Over the decades, several participants have claimed that Page’s guitar work was completely omitted from the final mix, leaving only Townshend’s contributions audible. On the flip side, Who vocalist Roger Daltrey, in his 2018 autobiography, boldly stated that Page handled the lead guitar, including the solo. Was Daltrey accurately recalling the session, or perhaps seizing a chance to playfully knock Townshend down a notch? From Page’s viewpoint, is his modesty a genuine sign of respect for The Who, or does it stem from a hazy memory of a background line that might have faded into obscurity without his later fame?
It’s fascinating to ponder the clash of emerging geniuses in that 1964 studio – a fledgling band on the brink of global domination and a guest guitarist poised for his own legendary journey. This intersection highlights how rock’s magic often stems from unexpected collaborations, blending raw talent in ways that echo through history.
But let’s stir the pot a bit: What if Daltrey’s claim is spot-on, and Page’s ‘humble’ recollection is just false modesty? Or could there be a middle ground, where subtle edits in the mix made his presence more symbolic than audible? Rock history is rife with such debates, turning simple facts into passionate discussions. Do you side with Page’s underplayed account, or do you believe Daltrey’s version adds a layer of intrigue? Share your thoughts in the comments – is this just a harmless rock lore dispute, or does it reveal deeper truths about collaboration and credit in music? We’d love to hear your take!