Robert Plant and Alison Krauss: A Fine Mist

Plant Talks About Led Zeppelin's "Stairway" and the State of Radio in a 1993 Interview

The human voice is the most beautiful instrument. It has been ever since the first Cavewoman came out after the first terrifying, moonless night, and broke out singing "Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day," overjoyed that the sun had returned. When the frightened Caveman finally crept out of the cave and went to work banging rocks, the Cavewoman said, "the least you can do is bang either 4/4 or hit it on 'the one.' "

Then two voices came together and it sounded better than ever. One plus one equals two, and as Marvin Gaye and Kim Weston told us, "It Takes Two." But Robert Plant and Alison Krauss came together with Raising Sand in 2007, and one plus one equalled three. Raising Sand won Album of the Year and four other Grammy awards. Plant (hard rock, Celtic mysticism) and Krauss (American bluegrass, folk), have voices so far beyond harmony they create a third, singular voice. Their producer, T Bone Burnett, recently said much the same thing to Jon Pareles in the New York Times: "one plus one equals two unless you’re counting, say, drops of rain. Then one plus one could equal one, or one plus one could equal a fine mist . . . they sing together and it creates a fine mist.”

It was such a singular record that they didn't do it again. They tried, but either the magic or material wasn't there. But 14 years later, they've raised the bar again with Raise the Roof, which again creates its own distinctive roots music: If the name wasn't already taken, I'd call it cowboy bebop. Best remake is Lucinda Wheels' "Can't Let Go," but you won't want to. Just put it on repeat a few times, and then buzz on to the next track.

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I met Robert Plant a few times, interviewed him both with Led Zeppelin, and as a solo artist. The small avatar at the top of this column is the back of Village Voice (then the front of the entertainment section) with my story about the band in 1975. My editor Bob Christgau and I had to brainstorm come up with a headline that allowed for only eight characters on two lines: We came up with "Led Zep/Zaps Kidz," which still delights us.

But meeting Plant for coffee at a Soho coffee shop/restaurant in 1993 for a Newsday feature was special. I liked most of his solo work, and admired his bold decision to do no Led Zeppelin songs when he started his solo career.
He was doing interviews for 1993 album Fate of Nations. Here are some excerpts from that conversation. The interview has been lightly edited for continuity and clarity.

WR: Fate of Nations has a wide range. It's got some environmental references, some party songs, a very "adult" rock album.

Plant: I am a grown up, but I am still a little boy in certain areas. There's a little boy element in "29 Palms" and "Promised Land," and [Tim Hardin's] "If I Were a Carpenter." [But] after all these years of traveling around the world, you can't escape the grim reality of helplessness and ridiculousness as far as our misabuse of the environment, on the one hand. On the other hand I can't wait for Friday nights.

WR: I DON'T HEAR OBVIOUS MESSAGES. IT'S A SENSIBILITY.

Plant: I think so. My favorite music has a certain degree of ambiguity, which allows me to explore, make a few decisions myself as to what the outcome is. The archtypical example of that is 'Stairway to Heaven.' When I wrote the lyrics, I knew where I was going, I knew what I wanted to say, but I thought it would be best to lace the whole thing with a touch of mystery. Not exactly Edward Lear, but...I like the weave of the abstract...to make it an ambiguous song, to make some sensual landscape, but also something I'd like to read. But a song is a song, and there isn't a lot of time... so 'moon' and 'June' keep cropping up, in some form or another.

WR: YOU MUST BE AMBIVALENT ABOUT STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN. IT STILL MEANS A LOT TO PEOPLE, BUT IT SYMBOLIZES A KIND OF STAGNATION IN ROCK CULTURE, AT RADIO.

Plant: Yeah, it's embarrassing really, for me. Because I enjoy the song, but it seems very strange that nobody's come up with an alternate sort of plot. It almost detracts from the beauty and niceness of the song, and that it is only confirmed and celebrated for its commercial implications: It's like you say, a constant stagnant set of archaic values. It's for the radio stations, and their contests, and the phone-ins, to keep interest going: ["Stairway" will be number one] but who will be number two, "Layla" or "Bohemian Rhapsody"? I mean, really. I would vote . . . for 'There's a Moon Out Tonight' by the Capris or "Tossin' and Turnin' " by Bobby Lewis. I would vote for one of them.

WR: A PROMOTIONAL LETTER WENT OUT SAYING THIS ALBUM WAS INSPIRED BY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ABOUT THE SIXTIES. WHAT DID YOU TAKE FROM THAT PERIOD?

First, I was astonished how I never had the time to embrace the music for so long. I was always moving around, getting exposed to some many other musical zonings: Egyptian music of [female singer] Om Kalsoum, or the Rai music of Cheb Khaled from Algeria, and the constant move of popular music on the fringe, from Sonic Youth through to Big Black, Husker Du, Bob Mould, Black Flag. All these people we know about and have become part of our acceptance of pop music outside the AOR [album oriented rock] stale pile. I'd virtually forgotten how simplistic and innocent, and yet how honest, the cries were at the end of the sixties. The shapes weren't quite defined then. Stadium rock hadn't promoted the kind of greed train we’re now dealing with, which ultimately creates a safer, more obvious middle ground.

THE FIRST TIME I SAW LED ZEPPELIN YOU WERE OPENING FOR RAHSAAN ROLAND KIRK.

Yes, at Winterland! Yeah, of course you could see so much music like that. Live shows were an extension of the radio. And before the grand corporations started dictating that the listeners shouldn't drop below 15 million per program, and suddenly Ravi Shankar leaves the FM band.

Plant riffs about established music critics not being open to new music because their peak experiences took place decades ago. Instead of arguing the point, I agree, and tell him how far I go back.

IT'S A CONSTANT BATTLE. I GREW UP LISTENING TO DOO-WOP. . .

You're incredibly lucky, because the English people never heard it.

THE FIRST ALBUM I BOUGHT WAS PRESENTING DION & THE BELMONTS.

Plant: On Laurie. (Record label).

RIGHT! THE PROBLEM NOW IS THAT SOME OLDER ROCK CRITICS FIND HIP-HOP DOESN'T SPEAK TO THEM.

Plant: But Arrested Development does, and P.M. Dawn does speak to me. It's an almost genteel overview, it's quite eloquent, it's cerebrally confrontational. It would be great if we could have more of that.

We talk abut his then-current live band, which has two guitarists and a keyboard player, Phil Johnstone, who plays some guitar and mandolin.

Plant: We have to have three guitar players in order to do 'Whole Lotta Love.' "

WR: I saw you at Madison Square Garden in the early 1980s and the audience seemed dumb-founded there were no Zeppelin songs in the show. Were they asking too much to expect that?

Plant: I had to give myself a little bit of space. Also, I didn't have the attitude. I was feeling a little overblown and defeated then. I had to start building again. I didn't think building would lend itself to to leaning on that 'sacred ground.' That establishes three things: I can sing the tunes; that the tunes are still great; but I don't need them to survive and exist.

WR: WHEN DID YOU FEEL YOU COULD INTEGRATE LED ZEPPELIN SONGS INTO YOUR SHOWS WITHOUT LOSING YOUR IDENTITY?

When I saw I had enough of my own propaganda. I've made three solo albums now. Also, I had to have a feisty attitude. As Phil Johnstone said, 'don't be so bloody sensitive about it. You wrote the lyrics and the melodies, do them, you're a different man now. It was a bit cathartic when I started singing them again. And nothing was ever as good as this [new band's] version of 'Whole Lotta Love.' "

WR: THERE'S A LINE IN ONE OF YOUR NEW SONGS ABOUT HAVING A RESTLESS SPIRIT. IS THIS STILL WHAT KEEPS YOU FRESH?

Plant: I don't know about 'fresh.' There's a lot to do, and never enough time, to write the the best song, to sing the best rendition, to dream the most complete and beautiful dreams. I'm always on my way somewhere else.

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