Album review: Robert Plant, 'Band of Joy'
3 stars (out of 4)
Right about now, Robert Plant could be touring the stadiums of the world in Golden God mode. Instead, he’s chosen a more adventurous path. His solo career has embraced tangents instead of doing what many deemed obvious: a full-fledged reunion with all the surviving members of Led Zeppelin under the Led Zeppelin brand.
But the spirit of Led Zeppelin, specifically the acoustic side of the band’s third album, continues to inform his music. Another distant reference for his latest studio album, “Band of Joy" (Rounder), is the group named in the album title. Band of Joy was Plant’s pre-Zep group with John Bonham in the north of England, who took their inspiration from West Coast folk-rock and psychedelia.
Plant revisits those influences in the company of Nashville guitarist Buddy Miller and songwriter Patty Griffin. Like his acclaimed 2007 collaboration with Alison Krauss, “Raising Sand,” the new album aims for an eerily atmospheric vibe as it investigates a broad range of music, taking on blues via Lightnin’ Hopkins, bluegrass from Bascom Lamar Lunsford, ‘60s soul, and relatively recent tunes from Los Lobos, Low and Texas band Milton Mapes.
Whereas “Raising Sand” was revelatory, with some of the most nuanced and subtle singing of Plant’s career as he melded his voice with that of Krauss, “Band of Joy” comes off as a less-focused sequel. Plant is once again low-key, his voice snaking through the songs, while Griffin shadows him like a ghost and Miller’s guitar hovers with storm-cloud menace.
Not everything works. “Cindy, I’ll Marry You Someday” and “Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down” are twang classics, but they come off as creaky antiques – Plant is almost too reverent about them. And Plant’s attempt at setting Theodore Tilton’s 1867 poem “The King’s Ring” to unsettling music comes off as a haphazard indulgence on “Even This Shall Pass Away.”
But at its best, the mix of drone and melody, electric shimmy and acoustic simplicity, can be intoxicating, particularly on haunting versions of Low’s “Silver Rider” and “Monkey.” If Plant does nothing more on this album than draw attention to that Duluth, Minn., trio’s music, he deserves praise.
greg@gregkot.com
Right about now, Robert Plant could be touring the stadiums of the world in Golden God mode. Instead, he’s chosen a more adventurous path. His solo career has embraced tangents instead of doing what many deemed obvious: a full-fledged reunion with all the surviving members of Led Zeppelin under the Led Zeppelin brand.
But the spirit of Led Zeppelin, specifically the acoustic side of the band’s third album, continues to inform his music. Another distant reference for his latest studio album, “Band of Joy" (Rounder), is the group named in the album title. Band of Joy was Plant’s pre-Zep group with John Bonham in the north of England, who took their inspiration from West Coast folk-rock and psychedelia.
Plant revisits those influences in the company of Nashville guitarist Buddy Miller and songwriter Patty Griffin. Like his acclaimed 2007 collaboration with Alison Krauss, “Raising Sand,” the new album aims for an eerily atmospheric vibe as it investigates a broad range of music, taking on blues via Lightnin’ Hopkins, bluegrass from Bascom Lamar Lunsford, ‘60s soul, and relatively recent tunes from Los Lobos, Low and Texas band Milton Mapes.
Whereas “Raising Sand” was revelatory, with some of the most nuanced and subtle singing of Plant’s career as he melded his voice with that of Krauss, “Band of Joy” comes off as a less-focused sequel. Plant is once again low-key, his voice snaking through the songs, while Griffin shadows him like a ghost and Miller’s guitar hovers with storm-cloud menace.
Not everything works. “Cindy, I’ll Marry You Someday” and “Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down” are twang classics, but they come off as creaky antiques – Plant is almost too reverent about them. And Plant’s attempt at setting Theodore Tilton’s 1867 poem “The King’s Ring” to unsettling music comes off as a haphazard indulgence on “Even This Shall Pass Away.”
But at its best, the mix of drone and melody, electric shimmy and acoustic simplicity, can be intoxicating, particularly on haunting versions of Low’s “Silver Rider” and “Monkey.” If Plant does nothing more on this album than draw attention to that Duluth, Minn., trio’s music, he deserves praise.
greg@gregkot.com