ROBERT PLANT BRANCHING OUT

Rip It Up, Issue 96, 1 July 1985, Page 16

ROBERT PLANT BRANCHING OUT

For someone who never did interviews when Led Zeppelin strode Colossus-like over 70s hard rock, Robert Plant is certainly proving himself a master of the medium in the 80s. On the eve of his current world tour, Plant is once more beating his bronzed breast, this time in support of his third solo album, Shaken ‘n’ Stirred. He takes on his interrogators with graceful ease, answering all queries eloquently and wittily. A journalist’s dream in fact, but, like any sweet dream, a touch too good to be true. When his record company publicist later passes on Plant’s compliments on the questioning, this pen-pusher can't fight the nagging feeling that he probably says that about everyone. Robert Plant can laugh at his image as, in his own words, "The King Of Cock-Rock,” but he then proceeds to turn on his patented charm for anything in a skirt, while dropping broad hints as to his continued virility. We're not primarily here, however, to discuss whether the Incredible Hunk can still get it up after 20 years of life in the fast lane. We're here to talk about life after Led Zeppelin, and right now the gods are smiling on the oft ill-fated Mr Plant. Conceived as an enjoyable diversion, his Honeydrippers project became a chart-topping, million dollar baby, one guaranteeing both Shaken TV Stirred and his new tour substantial support. The new LP is undeniably a brave try at continuing the experimental feel of the earlier Principle of Moments and Pictures At Eleven, but whether it is the convincingly innovative merger of rock roots and 80s technology the lionmaned one believes is a matter of conjecture. Enough of the editorialising. Welcome to the Plant Meets the Press Performance:

On doing interviews: “All those years ago I never said a word to anybody. Now it is a part-and-parcel of things. I talk now because I’m proud of what I do. My music isn't as immediately accesible as most pop/AOR stuff, so it takes more pushing. Back in the 70s, with Led Zeppelin, I wasn’t media conscious; now it’s a totally different ball game." On the Zeppelin mystique: “Back then, the less said to the press the more magic there was. In consequence, a kind of legend was born, and it grew without my having to take part in the peripheral bits and pieces. That was okay then, but now it is time people realised I don’t stand on top of a mountain with sparks coming out of my hands! “In the olden days, we were all made heroes, no harm could befall us. It was such patronising journalism. If you believed what you read, the mere fact that I sang in front of three guys who were very good musicians made me into some kind of demi-god. You had to laugh at it, now I grimace at it!” On being called a dinosaur: “Yes, there is that kind of attitude from some of the British music press that says if you’ve been around for more than four years with any kind of success, you’re obviously far too old to be doing this. So they’ll herald new heroes, then there’ll be a change of editor or policy and the annihilation process begins anew. “It’s just a game. They want to appeal to the student and the angry young man. What they can’t deny is that the music is good. They can knock me for being 36 and having the cheek to sing, but what is that all about? Howlin’ Wolf was doing it until three years ago. It’s just a British fixation. They’ll all end up Yuppies in the end! My music is far too good to be back in fashion for those louts!” On diversity from the Honeydrippers to solo work: "I think it is all natural. The one thing that is a definite move on my part is to avoid my past in every shape and form every time I can. My capabilities vocally cannot change that much, but if I present it in different circumstances each time, it is the most stimulating way for me. I’ve reached a point where, after making records for 19 years, I now do it because I like to no other reason.” On the Honeydrippers: “It was like a hobby, a weekend thing, to play with very accomplished musicians who have got to grips with that form of music. For it to become successful across the board was something I hadn’t bargained for, but it was a pleasant, flattering experience. “I wanted ‘Good Rockin’ At Midnight’ to be heard on the radio alongside Journey and all that

because I thought it was very fresh, even though it is a 1948 song. It sounded great alongside all that contrived hero singing.

"If the Honeydrippers is the way I get the success that maybe my ego demands while my savage breast is being soothed with the Shaken 7V Stirred department, then that’s the way it is." On the solo LP:

“This is the best piece of music, the best collection of songs I’ve been involved in since Physical Graffitti way back. It’s ambitious, it’s left-of-centre. It’s trying to continue the Robert Plant, can you classify him, thing. It's not possible and I like that.

“I had to take some songs to extremes. ‘Doo Doo A Do Do’ came out of a night I spent at a Puerto Rican discotheque in Spanish Harlem. It was an incredible evening; these people were dressed so remarkably and looked so beautiful. I’d never been in such sharp company before and I wanted to put that mood into a song. If you do that, you can’t always expect hit records.’’ On the LP title:

”1 was going to call it One In Peru, but of course Peru has all those drug connotations. The real reason was that when I had my record sales charts back, I'd only sold one record in Peru. I thought that would make great copy, but I didn’t want any drug or alcohol associations. Shaken ‘n’ Stirred really means I’m coming out of my corner not virile, but I am! It’s like bang, it’s rock 'n’ roll from my viewpoint.”

On hits and compromises: “I guess I should be proud of my success. I don’t make instant hit singles. For me to get a record on Top 40 radio is hard work. After the unusual success of ‘Sea Of Love’, a friend told me ’now all you have to do is write a song with a verse and chorus and just a little heavy metal guitar solo, you’ll sell millions!’ Phil Collins is a dear friend of mine and he sends me tapes of the way to do it, but I can’t really plan it that way! “Yes, my past does give me a little freedom. The door opens, if a bit reluctantly. Programme directors play it three or four times and don’t quite know what they’re listening to. And then it clicks, bingo, a hit, like ‘Big Log’. That was an unsual record to be a hit; it was a cross between a spaghetti western theme and someone meandering about lost love. I’m in a fortunate position. What I do has an air of quality about it." On roots:

“We took our roots from Chicago blues and the first rock ’n’ roll Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochran, Ronnie Hawkins. That stuff was really fresh, it broke through Rosemary Clooney and Frank Sinatra. We were also affected by Jack Kerouac, Camus and Sartre in a literary manner. It was a rebellion thing, an honest-to-goodness alternative to the comfort of the 19505.

“Now the kids coming up in hard rock and metal bands don’t have the same roots structure we have. In consequence they’ll rely on Led Zeppelin and the like for their roots. The synth bands get their roots from Bryan Ferry and David Bowie and all those other old farts who wear suits.

“Now it’s a culture gap, it’s fashion for fashion’s sake. Musically, Spandau Ballet and Depeche Mode aren’t coming from something quite so gutter-like or from the street. Fashion and appearance are their roots.”

On the Willie Dixon case (Led Zeppelin are being sued by the bluesman for ripping off his ‘Who Do You Love' and ‘Whole Lotta Love*): “Well, Dale Hawkins did a song called ‘Suzie Q’ years ago and Papa Charlie Jackson did another song in 1926 and they all sound very much like ‘Whole Lotta Love’. Our version probably wasn’t the first to use that theme, but I don’t think Willie’s was either. It’s the same old story, someone hears that and goes ’Hang on a moment, that’s mine.’ I remember those Mormons, the Osmonds. They did something called ‘Wild Horses’ (‘Crazy Horses’ actually, Robert) that to me sounded just like The Immigrant Song’. But I thought, ah, let it be. There’s nothing new under heaven.

“I saw an Eric Clapton record the other day with ‘Crossroads’ on it, and it said “written by Clapton.’ It’s written by Robert Johnson! You see, after about 25 years, copyright sort of disintegrates and is up for grabs. So in about 10 years’ time, someone can do ‘Whole Lotta Love’ and say they wrote it. Maybe Depeche Mode will do it!” (More editorialising: Plant’s rather flippant, cavalier attitude to the serious question of plagiarism is inexcusable. The story of white rockers getting rich using the ideas of often uncredited black musicians is not one of the most admirable chapters in music history.)

On the tour: “It will be the first time I work with horns the Uptown Horns from New York and I’m using Bette Midler’s girls, the Harlettes. I think the whole mood of the show will be more lighthearted than anything I’ve done before. Not that it’ll verge on cabaret, it’ll just be more fun on stage. “The tour is me sticking my toes in the water to test the temperature. If the audience has stayed with me through the changes I’ve made up to now, it should be great. “The last tour was my first since Led Zeppelin and the feeling was incomparable to anything I’d ever felt before. Although Led Zeppelin started off in an underground way, it got massive acceptance very quickly. So subconsciously you got the feeling you couldn’t fail. The last tour was like coming back again. The adrenalin was remarkable, all the possibilities either way.” On keeping in shape: “No, I don’t work out. Mind you, my girlfriend arrived from London last night so it feels like I’ve been working out! The set is over two hours long, so it is quite demanding. I once tallked with Mick dagger about ‘Oh God, can we still do it?’ Every time Mick goes on stage it is as though he’s still trying to prove he can. He’s brilliant, but he always tends to over-parody the thing.” On how he would like to be remembered: “As the King of Cock-Rock! No, just as an ambitious person who wouldn’t lie down.” Kerry Doole