High Bias stagestruck

ROBERT PLANT
@Austin City Limits, Austin, TX
September 15, 2002
So many of the old classic rockers (and by that we mean the folks dominating FM radio in the late 60s and 70s—and for that matter, now) choose to rest on their laurels, to simply parrot their past triumphs on record and wallow in the past in concert. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as recent tours by Yes, Jethro Tull and the Who suggest—if you still enjoy playing the old stuff, and it comes through in your performance, who's to say you shouldn't play it? But it leaves an artist, no matter how great, in the uncomfortable position of being a nostalgia act, still packing 'em in on the live circuit, still making a profit, but, let's face it, artistically irrelevant in the contemporary music landscape.

Robert Plant, who shall forever have the appellation "former Led Zeppelin frontman" attached to his name, despite having not been in that band since 1980, is not one of those artists. A fascination with world music, especially that found in Northern Africa and the Middle East, that dates back to his Zeppelin days has ensured a degree of adventurousness not often found in so-called "heritage artists." Likewise, his devotion to the acid folk and psychedelic rock of the 60s gives him a wider range of influences from which to draw besides the heavy blues and proto-metal with which he's most closely identified. On an unusually cool September night, he brought this intrepid spirit to the venerable Studio 6A for a taping of PBS's live music program Austin City Limits.

The still-youthful blond singer and his latest band Strange Sensation were wrapping a tour supporting Dreamland, an album comprised mostly of covers of the psychedelic folk and obscure blues Plant loves so much, run through a filter of electric Indian drones and Moroccan rhythms and percussion. It was from that album the musicians drew the bulk of the set. Opening with a dramatic reading of Jesse Colin Young's "Darkness, Darkness," Plant and crew ran through strong versions of Arthur Crudup's "If I Ever Get Lucky" (here titled "Win My Train Fare Home"), Tim Rose's "Morning Dew" (with some great E-bow work) and Bukka White's "Funny On My Mind (I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die)." Digging deep into a psychedelic rock bag, Plant's band lathered the songs with generous amounts of guitar effects, vintage analog keyboards (including Wurlitzer electric piano and a Mini-Moog) and even bowed double bass. Fronted by two dynamite guitarists who understood the importance of teamwork, the group balanced melody, drone and sheer electric power, moving from lyrical grace to shattering crunch with disarming ease.

Plant himself was in fine form. Despite recorded evidence to the contrary the past few years, he can still hit those high notes with the same power he possessed years ago. By contrasting his patented shrieks and howls with the soulful croon he's developed for his solo career, he's proved himself one of the most interesting and versatile vocalists of any rock era, and he was at his peak here. Plant and band brought everything together spectacularly on a mind-blowing cover of Arthur Lee's Love gem "A House is Not a Motel;" the dramatic dynamics of the original arrangement lent themselves well to Strange Sensation's aggressively trippy reimagining, and Plant reached vocal peaks equal to any in his entire career. He also sang a shimmeringly beautiful encore of Tim Buckley's "Song To the Siren" that was one of the most moving performances he's ever given.

Of course, Plant sprinkled in some Zeppelin tunes as well, and the crowd greeted the bluesy electric drone of "Four Sticks" and the mostly acoustic performances of "Going to California" and "Hey Hey What Can I Do" (with entirely appropriate mandolin picking on both) with rapture. Cuts from previous solo albums, including a stunning "Down To the Sea" (from Fate of Nations) and a powerhouse "Tall Cool One" (from Now and Zen), also won the audience's favor. But the fans, already left breathless by the stunning set they'd just witnessed, reached true nirvana after the encore's "Song To the Siren." Plant announced "a change of plans," and one of the guitarists began fingerpicking the familiar chord progression of "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You," the highlight of Zeppelin's very first album. The band captured its brutally beautiful essence perfectly, and Plant sang it as if he was feeling its emotions for the first time. While it didn't reach the peak for this writer that "A House is Not a Motel" and "Song To the Siren" had already scaled, it put the majority of the crowd into a state of bliss.

The cheers, claps and footstomps continued long after Plant and company had quit the studio, as the crowd refused to believe the man who had given such an amazing performance had truly left the building. It was a fitting tribute to an artist who can draw on the triumphs of the past without looking back while reconstructing the present in order to look to the future. Classic rock, yes, but in the timeless sense. Michael Toland

Copyright © 2002 High Bias