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THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
On Tuesday, the legendary Led Zeppelin's long-awaited live juggernaut landed in stores and arrived on doorsteps. The two-disc "Led Zeppelin DVD" and three-CD "How the West Was Won" should spark maximum Zeppelin mania--in the States alone, the DVD shipped quadruple platinum (400,000 copies) and the audio collection shipped a million.
It's hardly astonishing, though, that a new release from a long-defunct band (other than the Beatles) might debut at the top of the charts with record-setting sales--not when you recall the grass-roots fervor that Zep has commanded virtually since its formation 35 years ago. It's that sort of cult-like devotion that catapulted the group to superstardom without benefit of most promotional tools, save for progressive FM radio.
Easily the most important and complex hard-rock outfit in history, and a formidable rival for the crown of greatest live band ever, Zep nonetheless has never issued a definitive statement about its storied concert career.
What has come before has been either shoddy (the dull 1976 midnight-movie favorite "The Song Remains the Same," which suffers from subpar performances and inane Tolkienesque interludes) or incomplete and repetitive (1997's outstanding "BBC Sessions," which runs out of material not long after the band's landmark, untitled fourth album).
Good or bad, then, this comprehensive eight-hour sprawl must be considered a monumental release. That the bulk of it is spectacular will ensure such status in the Zep canon.
I've heard the CD set more than a few times and seen two of the DVD's five hours of unreleased material, and my appetite has been merely whetted. It's such a strong, cherry-picked assortment that it's even got me tolerating those aspects of Zep I typically can't stand--the overlong jams, Robert Plant's spastic b-b-b-b-baby-baby-baby scat, any version of "Moby Dick" that isn't on "Led Zeppelin II."
About the CD set first, for I still contend Zep is best heard, not seen--and "How the West Was Won" is a tremendously forceful piece, the polar opposite of "The Song Remains the Same." Culled from 1972 gigs at the Los Angeles Forum and Long Beach Arena and sequenced as one epic show, it captures the band at what I think is a pinnacle.
The eclectic but focused "Houses of the Holy" was nine months away, "IV" was already a monster, and the band was peaking, with Jimmy Page in flawless form. Here, they retain the aggressive wallop of their emergence but fiercely tighten it ("Black Dog" is the prime example), still entertaining sonic wanderlust (see John Paul Jones' keyboard treatments) yet without letting the hammer of the gods fall into an indulgent abyss.
They were filthy rich and already idolized out of proportion--both contributed to their artistic undoing--but neither had any effect on these shows. There's zero filler here, even in the epic cuts--a 25-minute "Dazed and Confused" that veers into the then-unknown funk workout "The Crunge"; a roaring, 23-minute "Whole Lotta Love" that becomes a boogie-rock and blues medley; John Bonham's thunder through nearly 20 minutes of "Moby Dick."
The highlights are many: an eruptive "Immigrant Song"; contoured takes on "Since I've Been Loving You" and "What Is and What Should Never Be"; excellent early versions of "The Ocean" and "Over the Hills and Far Away," with Plant impressively nailing its high notes. Even "Stairway to Heaven" works.
The DVD, from what I can tell, isn't as spotless, though it is undeniably a Zep lover's dream come true.
What I've seen:
Six full-length numbers and three excerpts from London's Royal Albert Hall, 1970, when they were less consumed by celebrity and flashy showmanship. Highlights: "I Can't Quit You Babe" and "Communication Breakdown."
Three outtakes--"Black Dog," a remarkable "Misty Mountain Hop" and a killer take on "The Ocean"--from the 1973 Madison Square Garden gig that eventually would become "The Song Remains the Same." Glammed-out Page is on fire (lots of exquisite slo-mo stuff here), Plant had become the ultimate flower child with an unreal physique, Bonham is in full Bonzo mode and the enigmatic Jones is left searching for an identity.
Three from Earls Court, 1975: "Going to California," "In My Time of Dying" and "Stairway."
Four from their much-maligned Knebworth appearance in 1979, during their GQ look: "Rock and Roll," "Nobody's Fault But Mine," "Kashmir" and a hornier-than-ever "Whole Lotta Love." It's this era of Zep that is most often written off, as the lean toughness of punk had rendered the band a bloated, excessive beast. Perhaps it was.
It was also an unparalleled presence that still could spit out never-duplicated syncopated rock rhythms effortlessly. (Can't wait to see "Achilles' Last Stand.")
A year after Knebworth, Bonham would be dead and the band no more, soon to be revered by new generations of fans who never had the chance to witness Zep in its purest state. It's been a long wait for us to properly catch up.
Finally, the true testament. It more than meets the hype.