Approaching this shindig at the architecturally glorious O2 Glasgow tossed on the wrong side of the river there was a prima facie declaration.
“If he [Mr Plant] comes at me with a fish – however small – I’m offski”. We suffer for you, readers, but there are limits. I have terribly low standards but I like to maintain the illusion of polite society. Since Robert appeared later looking like he’d just rocked in off a boat from Aberdeen with an historic catch of cods… I floundered… and I clenched. Debauchery ensued, of course, but thankfully for the slightly eroded dignity, it was of the shimmy-ing vibe and only aquatic insofar as we sweated a bit.
We negotiate supporty bandy, The Last Internationale, upon arrival. An initial couple of songs suggested an almost PJ Harvey-esque attempt. Unfortunately that went out the window and we ended up with, at best, cut price Janice Joplin. Heartfelt but generic and dull. There’s only so many thrills to be had from decent fitting leather trousers. I’ll not go too deeply into how close we got to Joan Jett or (dread) Pat Benetar. I’d like to be more charitable but when the leader singer tossed out the, “Keeping real music alive”, statement – real music meaning that there Rock and Roll – no, not for me. And a very strange choice of support when Msr Plant and his Sensational Space Shifters grooved on with a set encompassing this, that and the other from a miasma of musical influences from around the globe and around the decades. Perhaps most startlingly the electro contributions to the Led Zeppelin monsters flung at us – yah, I was going to keep that till later but you want ‘Whole Lotta Love’? We got it. Presumably the outré contributions coming from their keyboard player, John Baggott, ex of Massive Attack and sometime Portishead collaborator.
The sold out prickly crowd are here for one thing and one thing only though. The main event. I’ll confess, I’m not entirely sure what to expect. A four hour flute solo with the occasional warble? Perhaps a reinterpretation of the Iliad via mandolins and forks? I’ve enjoyed Robert Plant’s solo work greatly but its peripatetic nature makes anything possible. I kinda like that. In fact I like it a lot. Formulaic tomfoolery like our Internationale friends take note.
A swift negotiation around some folk who look like they haven’t been out since 1973 and our spot is found. Excitable crowd cheerfully cheering each at every roady hauling stuff across the stage.
And via a pulsing throb, suddenly, there he is. I want to say there “they” are, but there is no point pretending. The fact that that there Robert Plant is standing on stage. Right in front of us. Him. Him out of that band. The greatest hard rock band of all time (in this humble reviewer’s opinion)… well. Idolatry is never a good thing but in this case it may be deserved. Lord Percy himself in all his furry glory. The regal has landed. The crowd go mental. Half of them may have arrived on a bus pass but sheesh…the crackle is palpable.
So what do we get? What don’t we get? We go from Delta Bluegrass to Appalachian strumming and picking to heavy, groove-tastic blues to complex African rhythms to throbbing ambience to…. you get the picture. He may forever be associated with 1970s rock excess but this dude has not rested on his laurels. It’s a mad splatter around here, there and everywhere. Somehow though it’s coherent. The new album, Lullaby and… The Ceaseless Roar, shows exactly where he, and they, are at now.
The entire venue is caught up in the simple joyousness of the band. We even forgive the dad dancing. Hell, if I make it to 66 years old [unlikely] and I can get up on stage and deliver multi-faceted creativity like this [even more doubtful] I’ll be gleeful. And the entire band seem very happy tonight. Always dubious when bands hint they are having the best time but hell, I believed them. Enquiring whether T in the Park had an OAP section for them to wave their talent at, the crowd predictably went bonkers. I rather think the Parkers would also.
Particularly if they venture into Zep territory again. I hesitate to highlight this. Because no one should be hamstrung to the past. But, well, they tossed out three Led Zeppelin numbers tonight. ‘Baby I’m Gonna Leave You’ – astonishing. ‘Rock and Roll’ – excellent and re-morphed via more electronica. And in between the two? Was not expecting this. And it is a cliche. But the first 10 seconds were truly a spine-tingling experience. Yup the, ‘Whole Lotta Love’. Top of the Pops gave us something beyond DLT fondling folk with his beard and Pan’s People seemingly communicating dead-eyed despair through the medium of modern dance. This was HEAVY. The opening riff predictably caused utter delirium amongst the increasingly demented crowd. Being honest, it flattened out a bit and then we went off into a fiddle based world music meander, but then crash, that massive riff came back in again. A real moment. A moment I never thought I’d hear live. Hell, I even forgave them some of their raggle taggle wanderings half way through. Mute the lute! There’s no excuse.
This was a great gig. An up for it crowd. And, more to the point, a brilliant band. And Robert Plant showing he is still bang into new sounds and new music. The moody pulses of keyboards, the Strummer-esque guitarist, the rattling percussion…
I kinda liked this. I even forgave my associate expressing her glee at proceedings via the medium of petomania. Can’t say fairer than that.
Would I go see them again? Oh aye. I get the feeling this cat will be going at it till he’s pushing up the daisies. I’m down with that.
Andrew Morrison