Stairway To Heaven...

The man that hath no music in himself,
nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
is fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils;
the motions of his spirit are as dull as night,
and his affections dark as erebus.
Let no such man be trusted.

" William Shakespeare "

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     We are only seconds away from the musical equivalent of El Niño.  Anyone who has ever seen Jimmy Page and Robert Plant perform together know that already.  If you haven't, then brace yourself for music's version of Disney World.
     One of the most impressive songwriting partnerships in rock history, former Led Zeppelin vocalist Robert Plant and guitarist Jimmy Page met at the climatic stage of the rock 'n' roll era.  By the end of 1968 they had patented the sound that would carry their group through the next decade as the world's premier rock phenomenon. Until Led Zeppelin disbanded in 1980 upon the tragic death of drummer John Henry Bonham, no one could touch them for record and ticket sales.  And, more importantly, for the sheer and passionate scope of their music.

   

     When Page and Plant risked reuniting in 1994, their one essential mutual understanding was they would not recycle their immortal legacy.  Instead, they determined that they would reinvent themselves by making a bold contemporary statement, or they would go their separate paths as they had done before.
     They have succeeded in that ambition.  Their new recording in over 19 years, "Walking Into Clarksdale" sounds almost like a secret Zeppelin album.  The overall impression is a return to bluesy, groovy, laid back, elusive, but above all, diverse rock 'n' roll.  Although the late John 'BONZO' Bonham is irreplaceable, drummer Michael Lee, 29, manages a comparable bouncy groove while Robert Plant's son-in-law, bassist Charlie Jones, 35, can pull off a John Paul Jones bass-fill here and there.  In short, the youth-empowered rhythm section assembled by Page and Plant is eminently capable of igniting at any opportunistic moment.

  
     
     Before the lights go down it is noticeably evident that being at a Page and Plant extravaganza is like attending a family reunion.  Family members ranging from 5-year-old children to middle-aged adults in their late 50's have all come to see the reunification of the two family members whose seed they are.
     In the absence of light, a backdrop of female Arabic yearning accompanied the Irish-spoken recital of Vico's quote; "Men vent great passions by breaking into song, as we observe in the most grief-stricken and the most joyful."
     BANG!
     Page and Plant fired the opening shots before an anxious sell-out Auburn Hills, Michigan, Palace crowd for the second night in a row.  They reached back effortlessly into the Zeppelin repertoire, as well as introducing live performances from their new album.
     They opened with the surprising "Wanton Song."  Plant, six foot tall, with gold, flowing locks of hair, looking for all the world like a proverbial Greek god, strutted and preened magnificently across the stage with stud-like hauteur of the rock idiom, his voice, by turn, mellifluous and shrill, accusatory, pleading and sweet.  
A trimmed-down Page wound himself up into one chilling display, an inscrutable presence, prowling the stage with an undimmed reservoir of energy.  He also sported a shorter hair-do.  Gone are the bloat and the sprinkling of gray in his hair.

  
  
"Good eveninggggg," Plant exclaimed with a gleaming smile.
     The entire audience of 20,000 rose spontaneously to their feet in acknowledgement of an event which was crucial for them all, as they belted out a deafening battle cry, shaking their fists in the air in a repetitive upward punching motion.
     Page, 54, and Plant, 49, didn't let their age slow them at any moment, as they delivered power-punching, evocative chiaroscuro of 'shadows and light' versions of Zeppelin classics such as "Heartbreaker," "Babe I'm Gonna' Leave You," and "Gallows Pole" with the hunger and fierceness of a garage band and the virtuosity of, well, Page and Plant.
     "Gallows Pole," a tribute to the blues legend Leadbelly, was a defining moment of the evening.  Plant's primeval wail along with the acoustic guitar musical gymnastics of Page, created a boogying hoedown.  Page's fingers moved up and down the neck of the guitar causing a blurred effect.  But at the same time he stroked the strings with the lightest of touch relating his passionate love for his guitar.  One gentleman in his late 40's was the example of all whom attended, as he stomped up and down, looking like an Indian performing a rain dance.

  

     Robert Plant showcased the hypnotic range of his voice, while Jimmy Page turned down the ethnic knob a bit – using acoustic and electric guitars, easily and effortlessly.  Weird tunings and timings existed alongside heavy tremolo effects and a wide range of different sounds.
     Both men, dressed in black satin shirts and black leather pants, traded ear-to-ear smiles after Plant asked the question, "How about some 60's coooool jazz?" as Page launched into the opening riffs of "How Many More Times."  The crowd was popping like popcorn in a microwave inflating the concert hall like a popcorn bag at its peak pressure just before opening.
     Plant's enveloping roar of a voice squealed along Page's precise, but untamed guitar licks, before the guitarist unleashed an incomparable solo (with his infamous e-bow) as textured as it was dynamic.  The magic wand-like fiddle bow against the strings of the guitar produced a range of shrilling screams of night-flying, bloodthirsty bats to the doleful howling of male wolves just before hunting down their prey.



     The enchanting Plant then thanked the crowd and sharingly said, "The next song is very important to us.  It's a new song for new times, new faces, new beginnings, and is dedicated to the restless among us.
     "Do you gather flowers for me?  Moving softly through the trees.  With the scent across your arms.  Long ago I knew your charms.  As I walk through the purple hills of soon forgotten-know-that my heart was in your hand," a few lines from the song, "Heart In Your Hand," Plant, with Moroccan-like charm and trance, whispered these lyrics in distinctive sexual tones, making it unnerving to listen to.
     In Morocco, music is magical in origin and purpose, concerned only with the evocation and control of spiritual forces.  Musicians are also magicians.
     Plant, with his eyes closed, would move his hands in Egyptian dance gestures above his head and outwardly from his chest.  He would run his fingers through his hair in a twirling motion.
     There were concourses of young women swaying slowly like cobras slithering their way out of a weave basket to the sweet flute playing of a snake charmer.
     With this, Page and Plant showed that they have gone one better, and that not all of their best work is behind them.



     Other new tunes such as "Walking Into Clarksdale," an ode to the duo's delta blues musical roots, based in Clarksdale, Mississippi, was a true lesson in blues vocal-guitar interplay.  Plant's whining voice quickly moved up and down.  "Now I see twelve white horses walking in a line.  Moving across that metal bridge on highway 49.  And standing in the shadows of a burnt out motel.  The king of Commerce Mississippi waited with his hounds from hell.  A shiny neon riverboat taking income from the poor.  It's floating by the levee in artificial pool.  There's a six-mile tailback out of junction 304.  A stranger at the crossroads, believe I've seen this face before."  Page would break into an unorthodox, catchy guitar riff.  In response, the crowd would throw their
hands in the air mimicking the riff as if to be playing it themselves.
     "Shining in the Light," was reminiscent of the band's nostalgic 'swan song' days.  But it was the newest single, "Most High," that got the crowd feeling oh so high, with it's haunting Middle-Eastern and North African sounds, eliciting an astonishing array of the most ethereal Arabic yearning, from symphonic richness to lush romanticism.
    
   

     Plant constantly looked heavenward with arms lifted in search of an answer singing, "Who guards the truth, Ohhh lord most high.  A frightened dove in a starless sky.  Sooo high, most highhh, so…high… Where are the words of the king, who moves the stars and sun?  To the light where my spirit was born.  Bring this wanderer home…"  "Most High" showcased that mysterious is not about darkness.  It's about intrigue.
     Other old favorites were the folk-driven "Tangerine," a soothing acoustic rendition of "Going To California" with Page and Plant sitting down on chairs like two grandfathers sharing tales of old with their grandchildren.
     Many fans in the crowd would smile at one another and look on with tears flowing down their cheeks, as Page and Plant would do the same.
     Lost in dry ice, Page strummed his guitar and pressed down the wah wah pedal with his foot, introducing "No Quarter" with a long a dragged out groaning of a female cat in heat.  Plant's drowning echo vocal weaved the web of the most delicate, suggestive textures of deep Celtic sources.  "Close the doors, put out the light.  You know they won't be home tonight.  The snow falls hard and don't you know.  The winds of Thor are blowing cold…old…old…old… They're wearing steel that's bright and true.  They carry news that must get through.  They choose the path where no one goes.  They hold no quarter; they ask no quarter…no quarter…ooooooh…. Give me quarter…. Ahhhhhh… no pain…"
     There was an eternal burning and wandering fever, as members of the crowd would look at one another saying, "Look at my arms, man!  Did you get goose bumps too?  Wow…"
     The floodgates opened with the improvisational 20 plus minute "Whole Lotta' Love" This blues-inspired dynamism was like nothing ever encountered before.  Michael Lee hammered a beat that struck all the force of anti-tank gun.  And, midway through the song, Page strung the audience's senses with a series of explicit guitar licks.  This followed a period of 'white noise' during which Plant had let rip with a series of orgasmic screams.  The whole thing wound up like a frenzy of howls and riffs that just kept coming.  "Keep a coolin' baby" echoed the final chorus.  The audience could do nothing but!
     "Thank you, Detroit, good-night…" Plant said with a mischievous grin.

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     It was pitch black as the crowd swooshed up like the Red Sea that crashed down on the army of Roman soldiers in the time of Moses.  The stomping…the screaming…the whistling…all joined as one in this effort by an audience that wasn't ready to say good-bye just yet.  The darkness began to sparkle like stars in the darkest of night, as the crowd's lighters were all lit up in unison.
     Page and Plant returned to the stage in high spirits.  Plant, laughing, then announced, "Detroit…it's been a long time…"
     KABAAM!!!
     They rolled ferociously into the encore of "Rock And Roll."  During which the chaps sometimes seemed intent on annihilating all distinctions between themselves in the pursuit of a mystical oneness, Page would physically lean on Plant as he sang, and Plant would mimic Pages guitar lines until everything swept up into one bombastic, engulfing turbulence of thunder.  Michael Lee looked like a man possessed by the spirit of the late Bonzo, attacking the drum kit, with a barrage of blows synonymous with the intensity of nuclear explosives going off in rounds at a test sight, virtually blowing the crowd through the back wall by its power.
     The audience was swept up into a bacchanalia as Page and Plant said their good-byes.  Page and Plant bowed along with their band mates, smiling and laughing.  Just before their exit off stage the two men embraced causing the crowd to respond with emphatic high 5's and gorilla-like pounding fists swirling in the air.

  

     Page and Plant are older than they once were.  But they're not old.  They are unleashing that tempest once again.  Their music, even at its quietist, is gale-force.  It is set on conjuring up images of uncharted lands from afar, about the becoming of the imagination, about the sensuality of ecstasy.  It is a forlorn quest, and it offers the elemental surprise of all adventurous travel - the fresh shock of a new trend, a more profound understanding of the familiar.
     This music is a grand design of unapologetic demands – the same demands Page and Plant made of each other before boldly moving on this leg of their journey:  set aside run-of-the-mill assumptions, dare to hope, make it vibrant or not at all, learn to dream again.  As always, they expect no less than they have given, well aware that in live performance magic cannot occur unless the audience desires it.
     It's the excitement of what it can be.  We can go back to the glorious days where, when people
performed, they took you someplace.  We were someplace very special – a mythical place that left us
wondering, "Do dinosaurs still roam the Earth?" …

They did on June 27th, 1998.

Story By     when dinosaurs roamed earth

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