Led Zeppelin (1969)

9

Good Times Bad Times / Babe I’m Gonna Leave You / You Shook Me / Dazed and Confused / Your Time Is Gonna Come / Black Mountain Side / Communication Breakdown / I Can’t Quit You Baby / How Many More Times

Whether you consider them the epitome of self-indulgent dinosaur rock, the greatest rock band ever or a boring bunch of self-obsessed wankers and blues recyclers who eventually turned to mysticism and folklore to hide the emptiness between their ears, it’s hard to deny Led Zeppelin was an immensely important, gifted and accomplished band, right from the start. Admittedly, Page was hardly a rookie, having played in the Yardbirds and already having made a name for himself as a session ace, while also bassist John Paul Jones wasn’t an unfamiliar face for those who were bad-ass and happenin’ at the time, but I’d say that if this were a consistent album (and it’s not), it would’ve been one of the all time greatest debut albums. There have always been quite some accusations of plagiarism, and they did borrow heavily without acknowledging it, but I’m not going to spend too much time on that, the internet will provide you with everything you want to know and more. What I do know is that they borrowed, but rarely imitated slavishly, they always turned it - whatever it was: a riff, a catchphrase, a structure – into Led Zeppelin. Even though they’d get more experimental later on (especially from the third album onwards), not always with successful results, you might argue that the essence of Zeppelin is already here, unless you consider the later excess essential as well. Robert Plant’s exalted wails and high-pitched shrieks (they didn’t call him ‘the banshee’ for nothing) are already present and the remnants of his improvisational style are hard to hide (the repetitive “baby, baby, baby” and other ways to fill the silence), but it’s all kept in check here. Sort of.

What’s extraordinary about Led Zeppelin is that they, much like The Who, were basically a band of equally fascinating musicians. Well, I don’t know if Jones was as technically versatile as Page, but he does combine heaviness with refinement once in a while, whereas Bonham is still one of the most recognizable drummers you can imagine. Seemingly not that gifted, because of his rudimentary sound that was obviously influenced by that other notorious hard-hitter, Ginger Baker, his thunderous and plodding technique sounds perfect for this kind of album. Finally, there’s of course Page, an extraordinarily gifted musician who could be both incredibly sloppy and mind-blowingly fantastic in one song and probably is one of the few who can rival AC/DC’s Young brothers’ knack for writing brick-solid riffs. The forceful attack that characterises so many of his songs is already present in the album’s opener “Good Times Bad Times,” which is basically much more accessible and poppy than the sound might make you believe. What sets it apart – besides Page’s guitar antics – is the booming drum sound. Even if it’s probably not the first hard rock album (Jeff Beck’s Truth, released half a year earlier, is indeed a good candidate, and coincidentally, Jones also played on it), but I’d say this album is where mainstream hard rock got really heavy, as in ‘pounding, menacing, evil music.’ Or check out the fast “Communication Breakdown” and convince me they’re not pre-dating their own nemesis (punk?) with some 8 years or so. Crashing cymbals, loud guitars and a rhythm section that’ll make an entire building shiver, that’s what it’s all about, or am I wrong? Anyway, those aren’t even the highlights, as I agree with the majority of people that tracks 2-4 basically define what the band was about. “Babe I’m Gonna Leave You” is in a way already a precursor to the later folk/hard rock melting pot, an awesome marriage of acoustic parts and electrical power, as Plant moans and wails with passion (not theatre) and the band adds Spanish-sounding accents. These soft/loud-dynamics are something that not only they themselves would recycle, but the entire hard rock following during the next few decades. It also features Page’s much criticised “rock scat” (“I know I’m nevahnevahnevahnevah gonna leave you baby … ooohhhh, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, ooohhh, … woman, woman, woman,” etc.) but it actually works here and goes to show his instinctive approach to singing could work very well. Similarly instinctive is also his attitude/ pose: Plant was a horny bastard, and he’d let you know all about it as well. Whereas Mick Jagger was already your mother’s nightmare, Plant became your father’s as well, certainly if you were a female between 15 and 30 or so.

“You Shook Me,” for instance, which was basically copped from Beck’s version (who was pissed off), presents the band at their sleaziest, churning out perverse, over-sexed blues with an unmatched arrogance. Beck’s version was already quite extraordinary – especially because you couldn’t decide whether that distorted guitar was actually a guitar or a recorded fart – and added the piano that only enters at a later stage here (well, it’s an organ, but OK), but Zeppelin made it more accessible, overtly sexual, and, well, better. Whereas the overall sound of the album in a way kick-started hard rock, it’s “Dazed and Confused” that arguably started heavy metal in the process as well. From that bass/guitar intro onwards, the songs sounds as creepy as they come, with those loud, crashing parts directly influencing Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid.” But that’s not nearly everything, as the song also introduced Page’s legendary bow-technique (giving the guitar that Satanic sound) and was a showcase for the powerful rhythm section. More than anything else, however, I’d say “Dazed and Confused” was already Plant’s peak as a vocalist, as he roars, moans and wails his way through the song with one of rock’s greatest vocal performances (ever). The remainder of the album isn’t as impressive (and that’s why I’ll never get people who claim it’s one of the greatest albums ever while admitting its flaws), but a lot better than the weakest stuff on their other albums. “Your Time Is Gonna Come” is quite enjoyable once when it’s on its way (that organ intro should’ve been shorter), but no match for those previous three songs, whereas “Black Mountain Side” is an unspectacular Eastern-tinged instrumental that’s actually a nice interlude and a great way to prepare you for the onslaught of “Communication Breakdown” (ain’t it cool how these songs segue into each other?), which was the testosterone-driven highlight of the second half. Usually dismissed as a lazy blues rendition, but in my opinion a delightfully greasy slab of blues that sounds great (dig the reverb on the guitar!), their take on Willie Dixon’s “I Can’t Quit You Baby” is only slightly less impressive than “You Shook Me.” Paving the way for other extended album closers, the pummelling “How Many More Times” is mainly a great showcase for Page’s guitar, which turns this boogie into something special with extracting howlin’, cajolin’ and slashing sounds from his six-stringed weapon. Man, that guy could play a mean & dirty guitar. Anyway, Led Zeppelin 1 has a second half that’s a bit too weak to justify a maximum score, but its highlights are among the best the band ever did, while the faults and excess that would mar later albums is largely absent. So, what you get is a very generous dose of thunder, fire and bulging crotches, and who can say no to that?

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Led Zeppelin II (1969)

8

Whole Lotta Love / What Is and What Should Never Be / The Lemon Song / Thank You / Heartbreaker / Living Loving Maid (She’s Just a Woman) / Ramble On / Moby Dick / Bring It on Home

THE MOTHER OF ALL HARD ROCK ALBUMS! THE GENESIS OF HEAVINESS! THE GREATEST RIFFS EVER RECORDED BY MANKIND! THE BEST ROCK ALBUM FROM A TIME WHEN ROCK WAS STILL ALIVE AND KICKIN’, MAAAAAAN! And so on. You must’ve heard at least one of these comments before, right? Well, they’re all widespread, and they’re all wrong, too. If we’re ignoring The Kinks, Cream and Jeff Beck (and a bunch of others), then you might indeed consider them the first band to offer the whole hard rock package, but in that case picking the debut (“Communication Breakdown” and “Dazed and Confused” anyone?) makes more sense. As for sheer heaviness: Vincebus Eruptum (1968) maybe? Or, again, the debut? Riffs then? Sure, there’s a shitload of memorable ones on this album, but Let There Be Rock relegates it back to primary school (well, sort of). That said, Led Zeppelin II does deserve some of the credit as well, since it rocks really hard, has that fantastic early ‘70’s greasy sound and does indeed boast a few riffs that even a guitar player in Chili, Senegal or Ramon, NM, has heard of: those big, fat, bombastic, bloated motherfuckers that make the hairs on your arms, back and legs stand straight, those decibel crunches that unleash the animal in you, the beast that craves beer, a good time with the boys and, more than anything else, WOMEN! EASY WOMEN! However, I’d like to add that my girlfriend thinks “it is music made by and for guys with tiny dicks and a low self-esteem who feel the desperate need to compensate this.” What a woman….

Misogynistic, dumb, pummelling, overrated, call it whatever you want, but … just don’t deny that “Whole Lotta Love” is the album’s epicentre. Basically a repetitive blues riff on steroids, with lyrics comin’ straight out of a sleazy porn flic (“I’m gonna give you every inch of my love,” “Way down inside, you need it,” “I wanna be your backdoor man”…what the hell?), it’s a filthy classic that could be the hard rock equivalent of the Vatican: larger than life, indestructible and perverted to the core. It’s great though, and the best thing about it all is that it still sounds incredible to this day, and boy, do I get a kick out of hearing Bonham’s hi-hat pedal during the meandering mid-section! I mean, nowadays they probably would’ve edited it and replaced it with a sample. Slightly less popular, but every inch as monstrous, is the incendiary “Heartbreaker,” with its grumbling bass, thrilling acceleration and some of Page’s best axe work. On top of that, Plant’s vocals (especially “Heeeeeyy, fellas have you heard the neeeeewwss”) turn it into an instant cock rock-classic. As for the second tier: “Thank You” might belong there. Initially, I wasn’t that impressed by it, but I’ve developed quite a fondness for it: I just dig the nice organ sounds (courtesy of J.P. Jones) and the contrast between the acoustic touches and thundering drums, while it contains some of the best Plant vocals of the entire album. “Ramble On” seems to hold a much-debated position: some people think it’s a crude failure, a clumsy marriage of soft and loud textures, others think it’s an all-time classic. While it doesn’t sound like vintage Led Zep to me, I certainly dig the pumping chorus and jazzy bass lines, even though it’s hard to ignore the fairly silly lyrics (well, let’s be honest, they rarely were about that, right?). Also the semi-ballad “What Is and What Should Never Be” deals in that vague mysticism and imagery (“Catch the wind, we’re gonna see it spin, we’re gonna sail, little girl”), but luckily that’s redeemed by some excellent playing (especially by Page) and a successful exploration of folksier territory. That’s when we get to the lesser stuff: “The Lemon Song,” one of those blues rip-offs that sound cool but also shows they started working on the album a little too fast, starts off extraordinarily with a dirty distorted blues groove and a terrific roots-rock acceleration, but I’ve always though the pummelling, jammy second part should’ve been trimmed. Similarly, album closer “Bring It on Home” seems to be some song that’s more included because of laziness or creative limitations than anything else. The band does a good job at recreating an authentic blues vibe, but what does it lead to: a totally unconnected second part that never really takes off. Frustrating, and a bit of a waste of time. It’s quite possible that you’ve never heard that last song, since the one that precedes it isn’t the most popular of Zep’s tunes either. “Moby Dick” kicks off with a dirty, funky smellin’ riff that suits the title just fine, but the main point about the song – a lengthy drum solo that usually tells me it’s time to get a refill or to take a leak – should be filed under “seventies excess.” Drum solos can be cool in concert, but they rarely work on albums. Anyway, I have a few bones to pick with this album, but that doesn’t get in the way of the fact that its best moments were made for the ages. Calling it the greatest rock and roll album of all time is still quite moronic, though.

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Led Zeppelin III (1970)

8

Immigrant Song / Friends / Celebration Day / Since I’ve Been Loving You / Out on the Tiles / Gallows Pole / Tangerine / That’s the Way / Bron-Y-Aur Stomp / Hats Off to (Roy) Harper

Led Zeppelin III seems to hold a special place among music critics. I just have to look towards some of my colleagues out there, and opinions range from the album containing “a lot of failed experimentation” (George Starostin), to being their “most consistently excellent album yet” (Scott Floman) or “another enviable achievement” (Jack Feeny). As usual, I situate myself somewhere in between these (aren’t I a spineless douchebag?). Whereas the previous album was their cock rock album, a work so willfully sleazy it still offends the snobbish music fans among us, the band takes a different, less “obnoxious” approach on III. It’ll forever be remembered as “the album on which they’d incorporate a lot of folk,” and rightly so, as only three songs out of ten could be called “hard rock.” Of course, the debut album already contained “Black Mountain Side,” so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that they’d pick up their acoustic guitars once in a while, but in a way, it also must’ve been memorable, as most of their contemporaries still seemed hell bent on becoming as heavy as possible. As such, the album also leads the way to the classic untitled fourth album, which is often considered the best crossover of folk and hard rock ever, and while this merger isn’t always that successful on this baby, it’s an extremely likeable album, hell it’s even elegant, and one you can turn to in many moods. By consequence, it’s become the Led Zeppelin album I probably play most often, and I bet I’m not the only one.

Now, it’s not a GREAT album - it simply lacks a few stunners -, but it’s definitely a grower, certainly after the none-too-subtle II. It immediately kicks off with one of their most recognizable rockers, the short, pumping declaration of war “Immigrant Song.” It’s pretty silly actually, with its Viking imagery (and should be held responsible for that ridiculous sub-genre it spawned) and Plant’s high-pitched wails, but it’s also a prime piece of rawk. And watch out for that huge bass groove. In case it might forget to point it out in the later reviews: John Paul Jones may not have been an extraordinarily gifted musician like Entwistle, but he was the quartet’s restless soul, providing a lead-heavy foundation, tasteful organ parts and string arrangements. Equally important: many of the band’s explorations were instigated by Jones, so it’s no surprise it’s his career that made the freakiest turns, by becoming producer of acts such as The Butthole Surfers and avant-queen Diamanda Galas twenty years later. Anyway, “Immigrant Song” is a good, hard rockin’ song, but for some reason – and I’m well aware I’m alone on this one – it’s not as enjoyable as the awkward “Celebration Day.” That song has some brilliant multi-tracked guitar parts, powerhouse drumming (and how Bonham bashes those cymbals!) and simply the best chorus on the entire album. The one rock track that’s left, “Out on the Tiles,” is quite disappointing in comparison – tough, but one-dimensional – even though their hard rock brethren probably would’ve sacrificed an arm for it. Anyway, it’s not one of these tracks that’s the one undisputed highlight, but the majestic epic “Since I’ve Been Loving You.” You either like it, or you don’t, and if you don’t, chances are slim you’ll like much of Led Zeppelin’s output. Even though it serves perfectly as an extended mood piece – somehow, it still renders me speechless every time I hear it -, it’s of course also an exercise in bombast (I have to admit that my favorite part of the song is the first 70 seconds). But still, Page’s performance throughout is simply stunning, a masterful combination of passion wrapped up in the blues. Plant’s performance is probably an acquired taste (and he does go overboard if you’re used to less confident vocalists), but you can’t deny that he gives it his all. Again, what cracks me up the most, is the sound and you can actually hear one of Bonham’s pedals creaking if you listen carefully.

The pleasant textures of the non-rock tracks is also one of the album’s assets. “Gallows Pole,” for instance, isn’t that special, a reworking of a traditional that starts of wistfully and soon develops a frenzied, hard-hitting pace, but it’s the way in which things click together that turns it into a winner: that combination of acoustic and electric guitars (“Stairway to Heaven” anyone?), the graceful way in which Jones’ mandolin suddenly comes in (after 1:05) and the moment Page’s banjo pickin’ and Bonham’s simple beating simultaneously enter the picture a bit later. Something totally different, and a remarkable entry in their catalogue is “Friends.” It starts off acoustic, contains some rather cheesy lyrics (yeah, we all gotta be good friends, etc), but then those strings come in, and they give the song this dark, eerie tone that’s easily as effective as Sabbath’s tritonic doom in creating an unsettling atmosphere. Before you start thinking it’s one of my favorite albums: I’m a bit less ecstatic about the next few songs: during “Tangerine” they make great use of steel guitar, but overall I’ve thought it lacked the final ingredient that might lend it some true character. Likewise, the nice “That’s the Way” combines folk and country-ish in a successful way, but I somehow feel it’s still a missed opportunity, as five and a half minutes don’t seem enough to come into its own. Still, what the hell am I complaining about? They’re still good! The weaker stuff is tacked to the end: “Bron-Y-Aur Stomp,” named after the “small derelict cottage in South Snowdonia” is folk, but not the kind that I like: it reeks too much of campfire cosiness and boy scout-bonding for my taste. Finally, the album ends very confusingly with the distorted acoustic delta blues of “Hats Off to (Roy) Harper.” It lacks rhythm, has got nothing to do with Harper as far as I know, throws some blues elements together and seems to serve one purpose: it might inspire you to check out good country blues. But hey, overall Led Zeppelin III is a damn fine album that finds the band expanding its sound and preparing itself for world domination a year later.

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Led Zeppelin IV a.k.a. Zoso, Zofo, The Runes Album, Untitled, Four Symbols, Peeling Wallpaper, Old Guy with a Bush Tied to His Back or Whatever This Month’s Pick Is (1971)

8.5

Black Dog / Rock and Roll / The Battle of Evermore / Stairway to Heaven / Misty Mountain Hop / Four Sticks / Going to California / When the Levee Breaks

THE GREATEST ALBUM BY THE GREATEST ROCK BAND EVER? THE PINNACLE OF SEVENTIES ROCK? COCK ROCK PARADISE WITH A FOLKSY TWIST?

Hell no!

Like with the other albums – especially the second one – a lot of nonsense is told about this one. In my opinion, it’s not even close to being the greatest album ever (all 8 songs should be brilliant, which is not the case, pal), but whereas a lot of people nowadays see this misconception as an excuse to bash Led Zeppelin and everything they stood for into the ground, it needs to be pointed out that the heights on IV are indeed VERY, VERY high. And before you think about starting the ancient “originality”-debate: just don’t mention it. Of course they didn’t invent their music from scratch, of course there are references – some subtler than others. But hey, these boys messed around with blues and traditional folk from the start, and if you’ve been listening to any blues in your lifetime, you know damn well that literally thousands of riffs, chord progressions, phrases reoccur in all shapes imaginable while being credited as originals.

Led Zeppelin, however, was a rock band, and those are expected to acknowledge their sources. Oh well: the main point is that – and don’t you deny it – the band often succeeded brilliantly at combining a bunch of influences into a whole new sound. Face it: they were damn experimental and adventurous and not even the correct statement that a lot of their music was bombastic, vulgar or unoriginal can change that. They’d already incorporated traditional folk, blues, metallic rock and old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll at this point, and would even have a go at reggae, funk and Eastern-tinged stuff later on. Oh, I already hear you coming: they were overreaching themselves and thinking they could pull off anything, THE OVERINDULGENCE! Well, yes, some experiments failed, BUT AT LEAST THEY TRIED and created some wonderful stuff in the process. No matter how much they seemed set in their ways sometimes, they created a distinctive melting pot that, for the most part, holds up to this very day. As I was talking with a friend earlier this week: try Deep Purple’s “Child in Time,” for instance: music of the grand movements, amazingly performed, but man, does it sound wicked nowadays! “Stairway to Heaven,” on the other hand, still sounds swell. I’m well aware that you Americans out there think it’s an overplayed piece of excess, but … we don’t have classic rock radio over here, and when I do hear the song – that’s only a few times a year – I’m always amazed how timeless it is (I’ll get to the How to Find the Right Ingredients for a Timeless Epic? later on). The “secret” of IV is probably its multifaceted character: there’s something for the entire family: dad can chop wood to the mid-paced stomp of “Black Dog,” son Jerry can freak out during the frenzied, turbo-boogie of “Rock and Roll,” while mom and uncle Dave can ponder during the gentle “Going to California.” It’s quite diverse, but it also seems to me that the dirtiness-factor has diminished, these are no longer the scoundrels of “Whole Lotta Love.” In the meantime, they’ve learned how to behave themselves and instead of turning only to the easy girls, they found the way to impress all the chicks out there with a more refined approach. Although, I’m not sure whether “refined” is applicable to “Black Dog,” as Plant promises Mama he’s gonna make her sweat and groove. It’s not as great a rock song as “Communication Breakdown” or as catchy as “Celebration Day,” but its brute force is undeniable. I wouldn’t have complained if it were a minute shorter though. “Rock and Roll” is about twice as good, steaming ahead at an amazing pace, while Bonham is torturing the cymbals with an inhuman power (or so it seems). Plant delivers his rock ‘n’ roll nostalgia with enough fervour, but ultimately this song is entirely dominated by Bonham and Page, who ensure that the song entirely lives up to its title. And the high quality level is continued with the folk song “The Battle of Evermore,” which again is proof of Plant’s infatuation with Tolkien’s literature – it probably also explains the drawing of the Hermit in the booklet as well, it might be Gandalf. All that cosy imagery about valleys, wars and castle walls is pretty silly, to be honest, but it’s also vague and by consequence, easy to ignore. Most importantly: the song delivers the goods, by grace of beautiful harmonies between Plant and folk diva Sandy Denny (Fairport Convention) who makes quite an appearance, while Page once again turns to his mandolin for authenticity’s sake.

Similarly, “Stairway to Heaven” also deals in hazy imagery, as the lyrics are basically one huge heap of enigmas: take a lot of unspecified descriptions, combine it with semi-meaningful one-liners that stick (“All of our thoughts are misgiven,” “Forests will echo with laughter,” and of course also “When all are one and one is all, to be a rock and not to roll”) and you’ve got yourself a winner. The best thing of all: IT WORKS! At least, I am buying it. From the first acoustic picking to the graceful sections following it to the intense electric climax at the end, the song defines classic rock and appeals to tough bikers and giggly teenage girls in similar ways. It’s eight minutes long, but its progression seems so natural it can only imply they knew damn well how to write a song, how to dose their efforts. I wouldn’t wanna hear it every day, as the combination of familiarity and wonder might get lost. Anyway, enough rambling about the A-side. The second half starts off considerably less interesting, with what may very well be the most hated Led Zeppelin song out there: “Misty Mountain Hop.” For once, I agree. Repetitive piano melodies can be cool, but this insistent example is plain annoying. The worst offender, however, is Plant’s vocal delivery. With its unnatural rhythm, it always reminds me of some surreal, drunken nightmare. The first version of the song I ever heard was 4 Non Blondes’, and while their take was simply atrocious, this one’s hardly average. “Four Sticks” ain’t a spectacular winner either, though in this case it’s not because something’s bothering, but because it lacks something, and I’m not sure what. Whereas I totally dig Bonham’s terrific, busy percussion work (he played with four sticks, hence the title) and the song’s trance-like structure, it lacks a winning melody or hook that would lift it to classic status. [Trivia alert: the song was covered by the Rollins Band for the Encomium tribute album (which also contained the 4 Non Blondes’ horror), but that band also recycled the thundering drumming and awkward riff (albeit thoroughly different) in The End of Silence’s “Obscene.”] So, side B certainly wasn’t off for a brilliant start, but the remaining two tracks make up for it: “Going to California” actually sounds like “Going to Devon” (thoroughly British), but the key word’s “lovely.” It is, contrary to several others of their songs, not concerned with showing off and its sober arrangement and vocals are a nice surprise. The icing on the cake finally comes in the mastodon blues of “When the Levee Breaks.” One thing: play this one at MAXIMUM VOLUME for full effect. Great skin-bashing by Bonham, gritty harp wails and vocals by Plant, fiery slide playing by Page, and above all that sinister atmosphere of doom. Whereas “Stairway to Heaven” was a brilliant piece of construction, this is basically the opposite: linear, rudimentary, but oh so effective. Slow and bludgeoning? Yes, of course, but also the magnificent end to a damn good album. It’s too uneven to be the best album of all time, and on this one, Plant’s vocals repeatedly enter the realm of acquired taste, but with the exception of “Misty Mountain Hop,” I’ve never encountered any life-threatening problems. All in all, people who call it the greatest album ever could’ve picked much worse than this.

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Houses of the Holy (1973)

8

The Song Remains the Same / The Rain Song / Over the Hills and Far Away / The Crunge / Dancing Days / D’yer Mak’er / No Quarter / The Ocean

Oh oh oh oh oh oh
You don’t have to go oh oh oh oh oh
You don’t have to go oh oh oh oh oh
Baby please don’t go

Ay ay ay ay ay ay
All those tears I cry ay ay ay ay ay
All those tears I cry ay ay ay ay ay
Baby please don’t go
(…)

It always cracks me up that not only the lyrics, but also the ‘ohz & ayz’ are in the liner notes to the CD. I don’t want to invent big conclusions based on this (they were so stoned they said the scatting contained Satanic messages!), it’s just funny. Anyway, Houses of the Holy is Led Zeppelin’s weirdest album yet, and the problem is that I can’t exactly pin down why. I guess it’s the diversity in styles and atmosphere and the fact that it lacks the homogeneity that made the third album much better than it’s supposed to be. What you get instead is a loose, usually straightforward, sprawling and maybe even messy album that switches from ‘nonsensical’ to ‘mysterious’ and ‘carefree’ in a split second. A lot of people have criticized the album and the band for trying to do too many things at once, as they incorporated not only blues, rock and folk, but this time around also funk and reggae, but I’ve always considered it an asset in their case. Granted, their funk workout “The Crunge” feels a bit awkward at first and Plant stretches those syllables for waaaaaaaaay too long, but can you name other similar bands at the time that even dared to release something like this? Plus, it sounds great, especially those drums (I’m repeating myself: hate Bonham’s drumming style and you’re a rock ‘n’ roll-hater) and the guitar parts, which steal the show throughout the album. Houses of the Holy certainly isn’t their best album – it lacks the unity of the untitled one and the raw brilliance of the debut – but it does contain some of their best songs: I’d say that “No Quarter” is in my Top 5 and the extended “The Rain Song” not far behind it. In fact, “No Quarter” might even have been the first Led Zeppelin song that I liked. There used to be a time when I considered these ‘70’s dinosaur bands a bunch of self-absorbed wankers (but that’s over a dozen years ago) – and they were, of course - but I’ve always like the unsettling, mysterious drama of this song, the way Jones’ keyboards evoke this blurry atmosphere of weightlessness. Sounds weird, but I’m sure that everyone who loves the song knows what I mean. Then the guitar kicks in, the keyboards go to a higher register, until the riff takes over to disappear again, letting Plant’s distorted vocals further carry on the atmosphere. It’s one of the band’s most “open” songs, a freely floating anthem with several layers of keyboards (I love it when the piano kicks in on top of the ‘watery’ synthesizer). Perhaps not that interesting when regarded on a purely structural level, but it’s certainly one of their most sonically pleasing and intriguing songs.

The second masterpiece is the extended “The Rain Song,” a gentle folk-based song that also gains more from atmosphere and arrangement than flashy musicianship, again giving prominence to Jones’ mellotron-parts. It’s only during the last two minutes or so that the song picks up steam, when Bonham starts to pound away and Plant begins to wail and the song reaches something of a climax, before returning to the tranquillity it started with. I’m also pretty fond of “The Ocean,” the album’s straightforward riff rocker. Plant’s voice is really high-pitched throughout this one, and that can become grating, but I’ve always thought they sounded great when they were ‘just’ rocking out. Halfway, it suddenly transforms into an a capella-song, after which Page ends the song and album with some fierily howling blues soloing. Opener “The Song Remains the Same” is something of an anomaly here, sounding much more complicated than anything else on the album, with a multi-part introduction and continuous shifts in pace and rhythm. I’d say it’s a great song (with some cool soloing) if it weren’t for the fact that the structure sounds a tad far-fetched and those vocals are so weird. I don’t know what it is, they’re already high-pitched by themselves, and then they add some kind of distortion to them, giving it this weird, alien-like, fast forward-effect. Oh well. “Over the Hills and Far Away” is an uncomplicated, stomping folk-rock song that would’ve fit perfectly on the third album, “Dancing Days” (B-side to the single release of “Over the Hills and Far Away”) a greasy riff-rocker with some cool guitar parts, and then there’s the hiccupping reggae of “D’yer Mak’er,” which isn’t the greatest song they ever recorded, BUT IT SURE ISN’T THE HORRIBLE FAILURE MANY PEOPLE CLAIM IT TO BE, EITHER. Actually, I like the song and especially its pounding chorus, despite its fluffiness and overall, um, ‘awkwardness.’ All this makes Houses of the Holy an album that’s too insubstantial in places to be considered a masterpiece, but its atmosphere of ‘randomness’ and the fact that it’s stylistically all over the place is what attracted me to it in the first place. It’s probably not an ideal starting place if you wanna get into Led Zeppelin either, as there’s nothing as immediately striking as most of the band’s classics, but in its own disorganized way, Houses of the Holy ensured that five albums and as many years into their career, the band still hadn’t released an album that wasn’t at least impressive in some way.

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Physical Graffiti (1975)

9

Custard Pie / The Rover / In My Time of Dying / Houses of the Holy / Trampled Under Foot / Kashmir / In the Light / Bron-Yr-Aur / Down by the Seaside / Ten Years Gone / Night Flight / The Wanton Song / Boogie with Stu / Black Country Woman / Sick Again

A (not so) brief foreword about hatin'

I'm not much into the hatin'-thing anymore, but there was a time when you might call me an expert at it. As a textbook case on teen angst and self-pity, I took it out on situations, things and people, the true axis of evil being school - parents - the law (represented by the pigs). Apart from occasionally giving the finger to a cop and some disciplinary problems at school (which eventually resulted in me having to check out another institution willing to educate me) I never became Mr. Obnoxious, but like I said, I was a barrel of conflicting emotions, aggression and disoriented hormones trying to find an outlet. With that came music I could identify with: either it was weird (the Pixies, The Butthole Surfers) because that was how I considered myself, menacing (Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Einstürzende Neubauten) because that was what I wanted to be towards those who stood in my way, angry (Dead Kennedys, Black Flag) because that's what I was all the time, or all of those combined (the Rollins Band), because I was fucked up at the age of 15. Dissonance, speed, aggression and gut-wrenching intensity became the key words for a while and they proved a nice thing to focus all that energy on. It also implied that I hated those bands and genres which didn't fit in that picture, prog-rock, tedious hard rock and cheesy ballads being the main offenders. I mean, progressive rock was nothing but self-indulgent wankery, a lack of sincere emotion and intensity and with Phil Collins' involvement and all that, the devil's music. Same thing with 70's fossils Led Zeppelin. They were the epitome of everything that could go wrong with music. They took too much drugs, drank too much alcohol, revelled in their own machismo and blues rip-offs and sang about women, myths and bustles in hedgerows. Heh? I couldn't get any women and I sure as hell wasn't interested in fairies and goblins (Tolkien came later). Luckily, I started to discover that the smartest bands I got into weren't really into the hatin' thing, or put more correctly: they taught me how to turn those extreme, often destructive, feelings into a life force to feed on. Rollins, Fugazi and Nomeansno all tackled the eternal struggle of you vs. the man in their own way, whether by combative alternatives or the use of nonsense and black humour ("If every fourth animal in the world is a beetle, perhaps every fourth person is a dumb fuck"). They taught me it was okay to be out of step with the world and that I needed to expand my horizons. It sounds very cheesy and superficial, but punk rock changed my life (I wish I could put it as eloquently as d. Boon). I started to catch up and read like a maniac (novels, historiography, art books, etc) and discovered and appreciated more and more music genres (blues, jazz, metal, Burmese techno, country, etc) until I was ready - about a year later - to admit that even Steely Dan was a kick-ass band (they're still one of my favorite bands now). Gradually, I also admitted that a mellotron was no longer a synonym for 'filth' and learned to get into wank-bands like Cream, Deep Purple (even though that enthusiasm has waned again) and Led Zeppelin. I'd always liked their "Communication Breakdown," but hey, it was proto-punk you know (fast & vicious), and an entirely different matter than, say, "Since I've Been Loving You" or "No Quarter." Those songs were slow, dramatic, self-indulgent and most of all: boring. But persistence… it's one hell of a virtue. Oh, fuck it, this ain't no goddamn diary! But, just so you know where I'm comin' from…

Rockin'

Since I've always considered this album John Bonham's finest moment (making it required listening if you ever aspire to be a (good) rock drummer), I have a tendency to nag about the drumming on this album. It's FANTASTIC. Bonham may not have been a technically gifted stylist like Carl Palmer or Vinnie Colaiuta or Simon Phillips - there are none of those lightning-fast fills (or not too many), dazzling shifts in time signatures or "impossible" accents, rolls and tricks - but the guy comes up with all the appropriate power and groove necessary to make these songs even much better than most of them already were. Of course, the impact wouldn't be as impressive if it weren't for the actual sound of the drums. Even though these songs were recorded over the course of several years - 8 songs were recorded in 1974, 7 others were 'leftovers' recorded in the first four years before it ("Bron-Yr-Aur" is from 1970!) - I've rarely heard an album with such a consistently awesome, natural and MASSIVE drum sound. It's totally thunderous (apocalyptic even), nothing less and it takes even the slightest songs into epic territory. Is there anyone - a drummer, a studio technician, a Zephead, a wise-ass - who can tell me why not even a legion of engineers and producers can't capture that sound anymore? Is it the kit? Is it the recording equipment? Or is it the simple fact that a few strategically placed mics are so much more effective than today's "advanced" technology? Tell me. Anyway, its not just the powerhouse drumming that makes this one gargantuan slab of rock 'n' roll excess, as the whole package is larger than life: 4 album sides, 15 songs (almost half of them longer than five minutes), self-indulgent jams, unashamedly struttin' rhythms, and some of the most physical hard rock this sound of James Brown. It has all their virtues and vices combined into 80 minutes of rawk. It's nowhere near as innovative as their first few albums and it's not the transitional, innovative album Houses of the Holy was, either. If anything, Physical Graffiti is a consolidation of their unquestionable reign as rock Gods. Some people criticised the album, calling it a retread, a hodgepodge of stale ideas and mediocre songwriting, but I say it's just a band at work that had nothing left to prove. So they did what they do best: rock and let the creativity flow. Or, as my colleague-music dork/reviewer Brad Holmes put it:

This is just a band saying "We're the absolute shit. We know we're the shit. Everyone knows we're the shit. So let's put out a double album, just because WE ARE THE SHIT."

Like all their other albums, Physical Graffiti has its share of filler (and perhaps more than that - so, no perfect '10', I'm sorry!), but it also has the swagger, the monumental riffs, amazing musicianship, sex and sprawl that only make the best double albums out there (Blonde on Blonde, The Beatles, Zen Arcade, Double Nickels on the Dime, that kind) so valuable, despite their faults. Fifteen years ago, I would've raged on and on and on, foam dangling at the corner of my mouth, how the first disc (songs 1-6) messes with all the rules of good rock 'n' roll, but nowadays, I consider it an almost flawless triumph. "Custard Pie" is easily the weakest of those songs, yet it not only proves Plant's limitless linguistic talent (how many synonyms and metaphors did he use for "pussy"?), but it's also a dirty, pumping slice of hard rock, featuring Jones' awkwardly funky clavinet parts (yeah, it's that "Superstition"-sound), greasy axe-work by Page and ragged vocals by the sore-throated banshee (and check out how he totally misses the mark 3:09 into the song). "The Rover" is kicked off by Bonham's hi-hat and snare drum, which soon gives way to another monstrous riff, but while it suggests it's a monotonous boogie-rocker, it soon blooms into one of their most underrated, melodic rock songs and when Plants croons that melancholy "There can be no denyin' that the wind'll shake 'em down"-line, how can you not like that? And it still gets better, and this is where I'm treading on dangerous ground. "In My Time of Dying" (credited to the band, but actually a cover of the same song Bob Dylan included on his debut album) is basically a repetitive 11-minute blues-jam, but boy, does it kick ass, not in the least because of Bonham's awesome performance. Of course, the biblical references give it an aura of aural corpulence even they rarely achieved (unless they were playing live), but MAN! LISTEN! Page's menacing slide playing, Plant's moaning, the way Page and Bonham switch to that second part four minutes into the songs, the hollerin', the delirious blues soloing. It may not be pretty, it may not be original, but play it loud (and I mean, CRANK IT UP!) and you'll realize it's pure rock 'n' roll. As far as jammin' goes, this is a monster band at work and few classic rock bands ever managed to make a similar impact. And no, The Doors didn't even come close with their similarly lengthy "When the Music's Over." They didn't. The next three songs (second vinyl side), the album's most recognizable and unique songs, are probably even better. The funky strut of "Houses of the Holy" is Led Zeppelin at their catchiest (can you sit still? honestly?), "Trampled Under Foot" even betrays hints of disco rhythms with that insistent groove and cheesy use of clavinet, but is as sexual as the band ever got musically, and Plant's "OOOoooooooooohhhyeahyeahyeah" is one for the books. The best is yet to come, though, as "Kashmir" remains one of their crowning achievements, even though it's been overplayed and almost put to shame by the shithead entrepreneur with the silly sunglasses and the clothing line. It remains a stunning combination of rock groove and outlandish melodies, guitars, brass and strings, drama and uh, more drama. And all the while, Bonham keeps that simple, but majestic beat going. It's eight and a half minutes long and worth it. Every bombastic second. And that's all I have to say about that.

If you're fed up with the big, ambitious rock songs, there's always the second disc to turn your attention to, as it contains a mixed bag of straightforward boogie, more acoustic-oriented material and the occasional oddball. It's also this batch of songs that ensured Physical Graffiti's stature as Led Zeppelin's White Album - which does make sense if you're talkin' about the album being a loose display of their styles and sounds, even though the sequence suggests they considered this material less essential. When I heard the keyboard-intro to "In the Light" for the first time I was, like many others I presume, almost shocked, as it has more in common with lo-fi sci-fi music, or Tangerine Dream (!) than the world's greatest cock rock band. Of course they didn't have the guts to continue like that, so what you get (twice) is a long, extended intro with eventually also baroquely treated vocals (or are they multi-tracked?), then a pummeling monotonous groove and finally a lyrical part with exquisite guitar work. If you're waiting for the pay-off, you'll have to be patient, but I've always had a soft spot for this one. The next three songs (which make up the rest of side 3) have nothing in common with each other, as "Bron-Yr-Aur" is an acoustic folk instrumental that's tenderly pastoral, "Down by the Seaside" a gently swaying kind of sea-shanty with shimmering guitar parts with a terrific solo part in the middle and "Ten Years Gone" a patiently developing, smooth slice of folk, pop and rock combined into one, while being a long shot from the densely arranged stuff on the first album. It would've fit nicely on III or IV. The final five songs are often considered the album's ultimate letdown, but again, they're surprisingly enjoyable, as long as you don't expect another "Kashmir" or "Trampled Under Foot." "Night Flight" is concise, melodic and laidback boogie-pop, "The Wanton Song" and "Sick Again" are greasy groove-rockers with the especially the latter offering dirty guitar sounds, "Black Country Woman" is a nice blend of folk and… country that's perhaps a bit too unsubstantial for its own good and "Boogie with Stu" finally, the black sheep, is actually enjoyable as hell, as the combination of mechanic percussion, barrelhouse piano done Pinetop Perkins-style and Plant's retro-rock 'n' roll vocals are sheer fun. None of the songs on the album's second half would end up in my Led Zeppelin Top 10, but exactly because they're not overweight, pompous and ambitious, they work perfectly fine as an extra bonus to the better, but also more exhausting first half.

Changin' my mind

I heard Physical Graffiti for the first time in the summer of 1991 and didn't wanna admit I actually like quite a lot of it. Two months later a band from Seattle made some impact, sent my preferences off in another direction and I forgot about Led Zeppelin for a while, until I revisited them in the mid/late nineties (many, many hours of music listening later) and asked myself what I'd been thinking. Sure, Physical Graffiti is still the perfect target if you're a punk rocker narrow-minded enough to set out to prove that the epitome of '70's rock was too self-satisfied, not always very smart (because the lyrics do become trite once in a while) and such a drag, but if you turn up the volume and listen, you'll have to admit that these guys were still going strong after already having released five excellent albums in a row. You can feel, however, that it also was a turning point for the band, breaking or bending, as their adventurous spirit was kept in check and virtuoso hard rock had been confronted with its limitations in the meantime (and things did go downhill - really fast). Aerosmith and AC/DC were waiting around the corner to become the new emperors of rock 'n' roll, but even they will have to admit that the core of Physical Graffiti is exactly what bands had been looking for the two decades before them and three decades since: the devil's music wrapped up in irresistible adrenalin that tells you you're the man.

Read album reviews of similar or related artists: AC/DC - Rollins Band - Wishbone Ash

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