“Leonine” is a word often attached to Robert Plant, usually in reference to his tawny mane of hair — but also connoting virile roars and magnificent beasts. Led Zeppelin, in other words, the majestic leaders of classic rock.
These days, however, Plant is 75. His mane remains profuse but it has lost its lustre, and the roars have become muted. His singing on his most recent solo album, 2017’s Carry Fire , was tender and gentle. Here is a veteran vocalist of genial temperament and sweet emotions, the kind of peaceable old lion who could be trusted to lie down with lambs without getting up to mischief.
The name of his new band, Saving Grace, leads one to expect more docility. Their backward-looking material, covers of folk, blues and old rock songs (including several Zeppelin ones), also points to the passage of time and wisdom of age. Emotion recollected in tranquillity, that sort of thing. But an electrifying gig at the London Palladium told another story.
Drummer Oli Jefferson and guitarists Tony Kelsey and Matt Worley, both seated, were arranged in a backline. A picture of a bison hung behind them. Kelsey struck up an acoustic guitar intro, then Worley played a banjo part and Jefferson brushed his drums. Meanwhile Plant and fellow vocalist Suzi Dian walked ceremoniously towards each other from opposite wings of the stage. Both wore black and took up station at adjoining microphone stands.
The musicians have apparently been recruited from around where Plant lives: “A bunch of friends back from on the Welsh borders, Worcestershire,” he said in a radio interview last year, with whom he plays “very discreet, undercover shows”. The first was in 2019, before the pandemic caused operations to be suspended. Now they are touring theatres and assembly rooms, low-key venues by Plant’s usual standards — although a packed Palladium showed that the word is out.
First came “Gospel Plow”, a traditional American spiritual that Bob Dylan tore through at lickety-split pace on his debut album. Saving Grace’s version was slower and bluesier, with Plant and Dian singing in unison. Then came another traditional song, “The Cuckoo”, with Worley playing a twangy Western melody on banjo while Kelsey jangled away on mandolin. The different tones of the string instruments echoed the blended voices of Plant and Dian.
Like a call-and-response routine, the choice of songs went back and forth across the Atlantic. “Here’s one that crossed the ocean, came back and went there again,” Plant said teasingly as the band began playing Led Zeppelin’s “The Rain Song” to cheers and applause. He took lead vocals while Dian recreated the original’s Mellotron part on accordion. Jefferson’s drumming took the intensity up a notch midway through. It ended with Plant bowing his head and holding a hand out as if to say: there you are.
Other Zeppelin covers were “Friends” and “Four Sticks”, both resplendent with big pounding riffs and drums. Plant sounded sharper than on his last album, although the warmth and tenderness were still there too. The powerhouse singer of before has a generosity of spirit about him nowadays, including the pleasure he takes in having a duet partner. (This summer he will renew his partnership with Alison Krauss in a North American tour.)
Dian was a good match for him at the Palladium. She had a strong, clear voice, as shown by a beautifully delivered lead part in Bert Jansch’s “It Don’t Bother Me” (for which Plant played bass). There was a lot of electric guitar action, led by Kelsey. Expertly marshalled by the players, the music swelled and ebbed and surged, staking out a space between folk, US roots music and hard rock. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this, so late on,” Plant announced at one point, beaming. He has struck gold with this project.
★★★★★
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