Many of rock and roll’s most legendary figures emerged from the post–World War II generation, and Robert Plant—iconic frontman of Led Zeppelin—is no exception. In a recent conversation with Dan Rather at AXS TV, Plant looked back on his early years, the raw energy of a movement in its infancy, and what it all meant then… and now.

Interviewer:
So many of rock and roll’s biggest stars—its most successful people—came out of the post–World War II generation. Do you think that had something to do with it, Robert Plant?

Robert Plant:
Oh, definitely. I think there was a kind of grim determination to move forward coming from our parents’ generation. But for us, we didn’t really have any measure of what they’d been through. We were just like, “Hey, let’s go! What’s happening? Wow, there’s Little Richard!”

Little Richard, you know—this guy banging the piano with a pompadour, absolutely driving us wild. So good.

Then there was Bill Haley. He toured with the Comets, and looking back now, you’d probably say he was pretty tame compared to what came after. But at the time, they were setting the world on fire. I looked at them and thought, “That’s what I want. I want to be like that.”

Interviewer:
I have a feeling, Robert, that if one looked up “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” in the dictionary, there’d probably be a picture of Led Zeppelin.

Robert Plant:
Well, that’s very kind of you! [laughs]

Interviewer:
Let me ask you to reflect. You’re not anywhere near the end—and hopefully, by God’s grace, not even halfway—but looking back, what’s been the best part of it?

Robert Plant:
You promised there’d be no trick questions! [laughs]

I think maybe the best part was that, in the beginning, there were no charts, no maps, no structure, no rules. We were flying by the seat of our pants.

There were a lot of amazing people around us—especially in San Francisco’s Bay Area—fantastic bands and musical units. But there was no etiquette yet, no formula. We were the last people you’d expect to see on a talk show.

We were just proud of our music. And now, seeing how everything has turned out—being here at Warner Bros., the home of Once Upon a Time, Atlantic Records, all that great history—back then, we were making it up as we went.

Nobody could plot the journey. It was just, “What do we do now?” Maybe we play somewhere bigger.

We went from youth clubs behind churches to small clubs, and suddenly, the acceleration took us somewhere completely different. It was like being launched into space—stepping out of the ship halfway through the journey without knowing what was going on.

Interviewer:
During some of the more publicized moments of that era—Led Zeppelin breaking through—there were stories of riding motorcycles in hotels, wrecking rooms, throwing TVs out the windows… I know some of that is exaggerated, but some of it was true. Do you regret any of it?

Robert Plant:
Well, I can only apologize for the motorbike in the hallway. But it was just a tiny mini-bike—it fit perfectly in the elevator!

As for the rest of it… honestly, I think I must have missed a lot of that. Not trying to be smug—there was definitely a frenetic energy—but not always from our band alone.

Still, I wouldn’t call it a “magnificent achievement,” you know?

Interviewer:
True or not, you said jokingly that you missed some of it. But with the kind of vocal range you had—and have—you couldn’t have stayed up all night every night and still performed at that level. Did you ever just say, “I’ve got to get some sleep”?

Robert Plant:
Absolutely. A voice is a muscle—a strange, fragile thing.

I had a lot of vocal trouble at times. I remember being in Melbourne, Australia. We’d sold out a massive stadium. The stage was on wheels so it could be moved back to accommodate more people—10,000 was fine, but if 12,000 came, they’d move it back with a tractor.

That day, more and more people showed up, but I couldn’t speak. I went to a doctor who gave me adrenaline and all sorts of stuff. I turned all kinds of colors, slid down the wall in a cold sweat—and still went out and did the gig.

That’s the worst thing a singer can do. I once saw a specialist in Harley Street in London—very highbrow. He had a little button under his desk that closed the curtains automatically. He had this thing on his head and put a camera down my throat.

He said, “In six months, your voice won’t even be able to show surprise. It’s over.”

That was 28 years ago.

So no, I’m not afraid of not being able to do it anymore. And if it ever comes to that, I’ll just go country.

Interviewer:
Now, Stairway to Heaven—many consider it the ultimate Led Zeppelin classic. But I’ve heard it’s not your favorite to perform.

Robert Plant:
It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just that it belongs to a specific time.

If I’d been involved in the instrumentation, I might feel differently. It’s a magnificent piece of music with its own character. It even speeds up like classical compositions do.

But my part was writing the lyrics and singing about fate—something abstract, very British—coming from the mind of a 23-year-old. And it resonated with others that age at that time.

As time goes on, though, different parts of your life feel more meaningful or relevant. So while I like it, I’m not tied to it.

Interviewer:
True or untrue—Kashmir is your personal all-time favorite?

Robert Plant:
I think so, yes. It was a great achievement—taking a monstrously dramatic musical piece and writing lyrics that were ambiguous enough, and delivering them in a way that wasn’t over the top.

It was almost the opposite of the music—this understated vocal and lyrical approach that just fit.

Interviewer:
So it’s your favorite?

Robert Plant:
Today, yes. Tomorrow? Maybe something else.

[via AXS TV]

Categories: Interviews, News, Robert Plant

Tags: Led Zeppelin, Robert Plant