I’ll be honest with you: I was given a secret mission.
Intel had come in that three iconic guitarists might be in danger — in a garage of some sort — and I needed to get there fast, blend in like a fan, and shoot some footage. Rumour had it one of them was Jimmy Page. I said I’d be there in five minutes. I may have been slightly under-dressed for what was about to happen.
Just in Time
I arrived just in time — and just in time to realise I wasn’t the only one who’d been tipped off. The room was already buzzing, and this was not the garage I had pictured. The tension was building. I climbed on a desk just to make sure I could see everything. Then a ribbon appeared, then a CEO, and then it hit me.
This was the Gibson Garage. London. Brand new. Grand opening.
Tony Iommi. Brian May. And Then…
The father of heavy metal himself, Tony Iommi, was in the room. Then Brian May — surely we had bad intel, nobody here looked like they were in any danger. But we were still missing one name from the list.
And then, goosebumps. Jimmy Page walked in.
I just wanted to say hi. Pay my respects as a guitarist, a musician, an educator, and — yes — I still needed that selfie. But first, the ceremony.
Toby Lee, an extraordinary young guitarist, opened proceedings by playing the national anthem in front of what can only be described as a slightly surreal audience. After that, we headed downstairs, where Gibson unveiled Jimmy’s new signature 12-string double neck guitar. There is, of course, only one appropriate way to demo a guitar like that.
I had a go myself. The ergonomics of a double neck are… let’s say challenging. But it sounds absolutely fantastic — a really faithful replica of the original. And for the record, butchering Stairway to Heaven on a Jimmy Page signature guitar does not magically summon Jimmy Page. I can confirm this from personal experience.
Inside the Gibson Garage
With Jimmy still somewhere in the building, I was given a tour by Mark Agnesi, and I want to tell you about this place because it genuinely is something special.
The core philosophy here is that everything is available to play — every guitar, for anyone who walks through the door. There are over 300 instruments in the building, and they are all playable.
Flying Vs are actually suspended from the ceiling, flying. There is a conveyor belt of guitars up above you, and if one catches your eye, someone will stop it and bring it down. Gibson are 130 years old this year, and you feel that history the moment you walk in.
The Custom Shop section is a highlight — true personalisation, where you can come in and choose your own top. It’s been a massive success in Nashville, and now it’s non-negotiable for every Gibson Garage location worldwide.
The acoustic room is something I could have stayed in for hours. The full range of Gibson acoustics is here — Original Collection, Modern Collection, Custom Shop, and the Murphy Lab aged acoustics, which are worth seeking out if you haven’t already. The Banner series J-45s, Southern Jumbos, and LG-2s from the wartime era are represented too. I learned on the tour that during World War II, around a hundred women kept the Gibson factory running while the men were away fighting — and they just happened to produce what many consider the greatest era of Gibson acoustic guitars ever made. Remarkable.
On display alongside all the playable stock were some genuinely jaw-dropping pieces: Tony Iommi’s original Monkey SG prototype, a Johnny Winter Firebird prototype, the new Kirk Hammett Les Paul Custom prototype, and BB King’s Live at the Regal album cover guitar. The collection rotates every couple of months, so there will always be something new to come back for.
Side Quests and a Gibson SG Revelation
While I waited for my chance to meet Jimmy, I did what any reasonable person would do: I played every guitar in the room. This led to an unexpected development.
I have always had a complicated relationship with Gibson SGs. I love them, then I don’t, and I once sold a black one that I still sometimes think about. But there was one particular SG in that room that stopped me in my tracks. It had presence. It had clarity. And it had warmth — which is the thing I always felt SGs were missing for me. Consider my relationship with the SG officially complicated again.
The Moment
And then, mid-side-quest, I grabbed a drink — and Jimmy Page was standing right next to me.
I introduced myself. I told him my name, that I was a guitarist and an educator, and that I wanted to thank him for all the music he had written and played and for the millions of people he had inspired — including me. I asked for a photograph. His manager said there was no time.
But Jimmy took the time anyway.
We had a short, casual chat. He was as gallant as ever. I completed the mission.
Afterwards, I realised my one regret: I should have asked him about the greatest unsolved mystery in rock music. The intro to Stairway to Heaven — what is the name of that second chord? Maybe next time.
Long story short -if you’re visiting London, skip the Tower Bridge and come here instead. They have guitars. Tower Bridge does not.
Thanks to Mark and the whole Gibson team for the tour and the welcome. What a day.
