In Praise of Robert Plant

Robert Plant is famous all over again, thanks to his best-selling effort with Alison Krauss. This makes it a 3-fer career for Plant: Zep, solo, and collaboration.

From 1968 to 1980, the mighty Led Zeppelin released 9 rock-altering albums before drummer John Bonham died. Put simply, Led Zeppelin were the best. Prior, rock awaited their coming; after, rock plods on in their shadow.

After Zep dissolved, the dam of musical integrity was breached and the foul waters of 80s music flooded the world and killed millions. OK, it didn't really kill anybody—that we can prove, anyway!—but is sure led us as a species to the precipice. Music broke with heaviness in the 80s, favoring lightweight synth and fruity vocal bleats that expressed the empty soul that lived beneath preposterous fashion. Plant, to his credit, did not remain a sad image of a passing era, nor did he slip down the unfortunate path that metal chose in those years. And in his solo ventures, Plant did explore new ways of making music that held his interest. But to his (minor) dis-credit, Plant capitulated to the contemptible production style of the era.

But all things in balance, Robert Plant's 80s solo era was more weird than bad. In music, weird is a good thing, even if it turns out to be, well, un-listenable, because weird gives us Stick McGhee in a Four Aces world; gives us "Are You Experienced" in a "Turn, Turn, Turn" world; and gives us Nirvana in a Warrant world. Yup—weird is good.

But Plant's 80s weird was more like weird weird than good weird. While Frank Zappa could make silly riffs legit somehow, or make usual riffs utterly silly, Plant's experimental tunes stayed on the OOPS! side of that line: usual riffs are usual, while attempts to bend the rules can end up a bit silly. Take "Too Loud" from Shaken 'N' Stirred: you get the jagged, dissonant guitar that comes off like Concerto for the Machine Age or something, but it's a little too off-the-rack peripatetic to be surprising. Plant's vocals sort of jump around, in the spirit of things—to be staccato, I suppose. But he has a melody he can't shake so it misses both shock and pretty. It comes up a little short.

Then there's "Far Post" on Pictures at Eleven, where the band is in-the-pocket tight, a pro pop unit that would likely blow the roof off the joint if unleashed in a live format. But the vocalist sounds a little like a Plant wannabe, with spot-on tone and phrasing but lacking Plant's legendary power. (The voice cracks a lot on this disc.) A pretty good review if you're NOT Robert Plant, but if you are—wince! If the band was let loose even a little, and the vocals were mixed down just a tad... But other people produced Zep and had a knack for making Plant's vocals mythic. Plant producing Plant allowed boo boos on the solo records that no other producer would have.

But this is not a negative review because I like Robert Plant a lot and his solo stuff was his to do. Plant's orbit is exclusive, with the likes of Townsend and the individual Beatles. Such an elite group could release tapes of barking dogs, or something, and still ship them triple platinum. More important, Plant's solo work was good, even if a little weird. (But weird is good!) Pictures at Eleven did well in sales and in review—appropriately—for the tracks reveal the Plant influence in Zep and prove that influence was big. The bluesy tracks have an honest ache and the rockers rock. The ballads are the right kind of introspection, with lyrics you have to think about to understand, but when you make the connection, it's for keeps.

Shaken 'N' Stirred was Plant's determination to fathom the weird and make it work somehow. I assume he fathomed it, but it didn't really work for me—for me I sayin'!—but the weird was only half the record. The rest was the continuation of the Plant sound, from Physical Graffiti to In Through the Out Door to Pictures at Eleven. Then Principle of Moments was released and Plant was at his second height. But I just have Pictures at Eleven and Shaken 'N' Stirred on vinyl, so I won't write beyond those, for now anyway. Suffice it to say I appreciate the weird, even if it's not my preferred weird. Because again—without weird, the weird can become normal.

Not the good normal, either.