ROBERT PLANT

This is more about Plant than the recent concert.  For a proper review-- one I wish I'd written myself-- try this.  


If you want to read about some of my experiences at the concert, click here.

The first time I heard Robert Plant it was on a little yellow transistor radio I had as a child.  I think I was about 8 years old or so.  I was listening to a rock station, perhaps K-SHE.  The song was "Stairway to Heaven".

The music I heard at home was folk like Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, and a little Beatles and Incredible String Band.  That was my mother.  My grandmother listened to this awful Ray Coniff stuff during the day or during parties.  I hated it.  But she also listened to Mahalia Jackson.  And when she listened to Mahalia Jackson she would turn off most of the lights and lie on the floor, doing nothing.

This was the only time my grandmother was not doing something.  Even when watching television she would be sorting papers.  At church and at lectures I always had the feeling she was sorting the dinner menu for the next day, or what sort of work needed to be done in the yard.  Idleness was completely alien to her.

However, even in those quiet, dark moments with Mahalia singing of Roses E'er Blooming or Take My Hand Precious Lord, she was busy listening.  And she was listening in a way she never listened to any other music.  She listened like it was the most important thing she could be doing.

I would listen to all kinds of music, but some music made feel something almost physical.  A kind of "holding my breath but not sure why, like something really important was happening" feeling.  One of my first musical experiences of this nature was with the song "Stairway to Heaven."

This beautiful lady that was doing mysterious things that my child's mind could not understand rationally, but that my older self  (the self that would later try to buy my own stairway to heaven) and also my soul, recognized.  And the man's unearthly voice, and the sound of the instruments captivated me, too.

 It was familiar in some ways- I could hear something like the Beatles and also Mahalia Jackson- but I could hear other things too.  New sounds.  It would be many, many years before I would fully process this music.  (I still hear things I've never heard before, when listening to Zeppelin.)

Mostly, though, as a child, I listened to the words.  I puzzled over them at great length in the weeks to come, and was on a quest to hear the song again whenever possible.  Truthfully this has never been one of my favourite Zeppelin songs musically.  (Although in 1974 I wouldn't know that for a few more years. ) But I could not put my mind away from it.  It was a true onion, revealing layer after layer; more and more to examine.

I remember asking my mother about some of the lyrics, and she in turn asking some of her friends, and becoming familiar with the song.  As I recall she did not care for Led Zeppelin.  But she did reveal to me that the song was sad.  The lady of the song had died. Probably from using illegal, street drugs "buying the Stairway to Heaven".  My grandmother was not happy my mother had explained this to me.

Plant's unmistakable, un-imitatable, unique, banshee wail held a spellbinding power over my attention. With him the wail of Fenrir and Page the ring of Ragnorak, a new world rushed out of almost ever song.  And like the dreams of Cathy Earnshaw,  those worlds stayed with me ever after, "like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind."

I would come to learn and love the entire Zeppelin oeuvre.  Misty Mountain Hop, Thank You, Hey Hey What Can I Do?, All Of My Love, Trampled Under Foot, and the mighty Kashmir.  Ten Years Gone, Black Dog, Livin Lovin Maid, Immigrant Song, Ramble On. 

In their music I went around the world to exotic, previously unheard of places, and into stories and mythology.  I learned that fruit could be a sexual metaphor.  I found new pathways in my heart that I hadn't known existed.  Things I yearned for from men that I did not see in any of the boys I knew.  And sadly, especially not in Zeppelin's most stereotypical fans, those boys being both my first lovers and also my worst tormentors.

Zeppelin would lead me to Robert Johnson and Willie Dixon, and the blues generally.  And because I had heard their covers of these songs, I knew what to listen for in this music that sounded initially so tinny and thin to me. And it was their song Dyer Maker that led me to investigate reggae and soca. (This was the St. Louis of the 1970's.  I remember when the first Taco Bell opened on Watson, and we all went to try some tacos and burritos, food we had never heard of.)

Because of Zeppelin I discovered Aleister Crowley, magick, and mysticism.  Zeppelin gave a benediction and blessing to Tolkien and the Lord of The Rings, and to the world of faeries and elves generally. A world I loved.

(Did Plant hesitate, or wince a bit, as he sang the Gollum lyric in "Ramble On"? This curiosity could be my own projection about coming back to St. Louis and dealing with my past as "Red" Rachael.  I sometimes flinch when I hear my old beliefs quoted back to me. But I thought I saw something cross over his face just before he sang that line.)

How many times in my life have I found strength to go ahead with some task or situation I did not want to deal with -- be it doing the dishes, or walking in the heat or snow to the bus stop, or waiting in a doctor's office-- because of a Zeppelin song?  (This winter it was not uncommon to find me humming "Immigrant Song" as I walked to the bus stop in the cold and snow.) Too many times to count.  Plant's voice has been a constant source of support in my life-- in some ways mores o than many of the men I've been involved with.

And Plant still makes me weak in the knees.  He can summon the gushing girl from a very worn-out, cynical woman.  His song strengthens in me what I see as beautiful about myself.  This is what music that I love does for me-- whether it is Led Zeppelin, or David Bowie, or Nina Simone, or the Clash. (I know there are people that feel that way about Brittnay Spears, and I try not to hate.)

Plant, like Bowie, is someone that I will listen to anything he has to give.  Both artists have gone through long periods where I have felt little to connect with.  But this is part of being a fan.  You have to really trust that the person is going to find that centre again.

And Plant really has.

When he sings on "Monkey" that "tonight you will be mine/ tonight the monkey dies" my heart aches for a night I've never had, a lover I've never known. Love is brutal violence. There is an honesty in that kind of raw admission of possession. His voice does something for these songs that the originals do not do for me.  His phrasing warms me where the originals leave me cold.

I have some facebook friends that post the non-vocal, or somehow otherwise "reduced" track recordings of say, the Beatles, or Rolling Stones.  (I don't recall seeing any Zep posted, or I would have listened.)  I understand the desire to do this.  In fact, I feel like listening to Plant is sometimes hearing just what he contributed to Zeppelin.

(In this vein, when I first heard solo Stevie Nicks I realised I was not really a Fleetwood Mac fan so much as a Stevie Nicks fan.  I like the Mac, but they are really just sounds surrounding Stevie for me. Unlike Nicks and Mac, however, Zeppelin was Zeppelin, and Plant was part of it.  But I do enjoy the forensics of Plant's solo career.)

Plant has grown so much as a vocalist.  And an arranger.  "Silver Rider" in his hands becomes a spell.  "Sometimes your voice is not enough."  When he sings "I'm falling in love again" on the same-titled track, I think he is actually singing to music.  Plant has found his own heart in this music, the same way I find my own true heart listening to him.

I feel like Plant did a kind of "Pin-Ups" or Johnny Cash's "Hurt", Plant has re-invented himself by paying homage to music that he loves.  This collection of songs is so beautiful and profound.  I have feelings in parts of me that I didn't know existed.  The same kinds of feelings I had as a little child listening under the covers to "Stairway to Heaven."

And Plant is still channelling the spirits and Gods on this new album.  Now it might as well be Jesus as Thor.  But he is a true Avatar.

I love Los Lobos.  And when I heard his cover of "Angel Dance" I felt like two beautiful things had come together to make something wholly new and even more beautiful combined.  And the whole album is like that.

(And I had a thought, because I just saw Dave Wakeling and his Beat just a few months ago, about Birmingham, and how that city produces men that bring cultures together through music.)

The musicians on the album and touring with him- most notably Patti Griffin and Buddy Miller- are stellar first class.  It is a beautiful show, and Plant is beautifully understated. 

I feel like a whole new world is possible. Plant has the vision of a mystic, and the ear of a bard.  He continues to reveal the Great Mysteries, and unravel the fear and misery in the world.

The movie "Almost Famous" is based on Led Zeppelin somewhat, and I think Fariza Balk's speech about that fan that learns the music-- every little lyric and nuance-- describes me.

(If that makes me like the drunken guy that kept yelling "Led Zeppelin", or the girl that gave Plant a bouquet of Schnucks flowers and then kept trying to touch his hand, then so be it. Groupies really are the most fuckable fans, as Balk's speech says without saying. And if I had it in my power I would have a bevy of  nubile, sexy young ladies in the front cheering and singing along.  As it was I could only afford my own ticket.)

There is another side to that, to the fan that learns every little piece of music.  I think that artist's channel their audience.  How else can I hear a song and just KNOW it was written for/about/because of me? Even though I know five or fifty or fifty thousand other people might be thinking that too?

Because it was written for me.  And for all those other, too.  That's another thing that makes music so amazing. The music is really just channelling our own desires back to us.  A symbiotic circle.  Both musician and listener must be part of it.

The music is not complete without the listener.  The audience needs the performer, but the performer also needs the audience.

Wishing you great music!
Lady Rae

PS-- The Led Zeppelin song I keep listening too after hearing Band of Joy is "Nobody's Fault But Mine" perhaps because of the monkey reference? Or something musically, I don't know.

Also, if you liked this post you might like this one as well:
http://toodler.blogspot.com/2005/10/my-first-record-purchase-true-stories.html

And since I didn't get to flash Mr Plant:
http://toodler.blogspot.com/2008/06/back-in-la-d-and-triple-d.html

 And here is a link to a youtube video of a song from Plant's next to last cd "Strange Sensations."  It is called "The Enchanter" and it is one of those songs.  (Probably not about me, as I don't think this Enchantress goes around screaming "shut the fuck up!".  It's more what I aspire to being.  As if he peeked inside my soul, like a good song always does.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1NXiIy5E7E

She moves through the mountains and down to the sea
She sings in celebration with her piper for me
She's leading the man who's beating the drum
Love is all around her on the road to the sun
Round, round, moving me round
Round, round the air
She's lost in conversation with the birds of the air
She's trading information in a world without fear
She's fixing up a potion made of laughter and love
And I will follow the enchanter on the road to the sun
Round, round, moving me round
Round, round, round
Oh that the stars will light my way
Oh as my tides dance the ebb and sway
She's studying the planets and she's searching for signs
Her eyes promise mystery and her treasure to find
She's mixing my emotions it's so easily done
In a league with the enchanter on the road to the sun
Oh that the stars will light my way
Oh as my tides dance the ebb and sway
It's so very easily done
She moves through the mountains and down to the sea
She sings in celebration with her piper for free
She's leading the man who's beating the drum
And love is all around her on the road to the sun.

EDIT: I cut these paragraphs out of the original post, up around the fourth paragraph or so. Too distracting.  Like I said, sometimes I post without editng and come back and tweak later.

I lived in a rather frightening world as a child.  Nighttime was often scary. As many as 4 or 5 times a year my mother would have an "episode" and be taken to the mental hospital via ambulance.  There were also many "episodes" that did not end with her going to the mental hospital, but were exhausting and terrifying, nonetheless. My mother and grandmother also fought a lot.

But there were also many nights where my mother was out, or sleeping, and my grandmother would be home working in the kitchen (cooking or baking or making candy) and I would lie awake as long as I could, comforted by "normal" light and noise from the adult world.  On those nights there was a kind of cocoon of safety and I would listen to the radio under my pillow.