“Getting it right”: The band Robert Plant called the best imitator of Led Zeppelin

If I were to go on a road trip through the winding roads of Europe, wearing open-collared shirts and sipping on expensive wine, I’d probably want a car to suit that atmosphere. Something nimble, classic and relatively understated; a mechanical version of Paul Simon. But were I to head stateside and rev my engine down the endless straight desert roads, well then I’d need something more powerful, altogether, almost like a rampant automotive version of Led Zeppelin.

You see, in the leaderboards of music, they quite simply topped the power and theatrics stats. A genuine sonic tour-de-force that blew the hair off fans with John Bonham’s ruthless rhythmic power, Jimmy Page’s electrifying guitar style and Robert Plant’s transcendental vocals.

And like the muscle car I use to patrol the sprawling desert, they quickly conquered America with their brand of stadium rock. In many ways, you could define their success as similar to that of Oasis in many ways; relatively one-dimensional in the sense that it mastered the art of one specific sound, yet completely incomparable, for the alchemy of the band members playing in unison was what achieved the greatness. Ripping off their sound wasn’t a one-way ticket to stardom, especially if you didn’t harbour the innate charisma that sat at the heart of their songs.

Plenty tried, of course. And as the band sat backstage, buried underneath a cacophony of drink, drugs and clingy admirers, they smiled safe in the knowledge that most imitators were wildly short of the mark when it came to recreating their own genius. But Robert Plant’s eye was caught by the emergence of a couple of bands who he thought were sprinkling in a sense of originality to the blueprint laid out by Zeppelin.

“The Mission are getting it right to me, The Sisters of Mercy too,” he said. “They’re trying it, and they mean it. It’s not just a parody of a pastiche of a parody. If they nick a few chord shapes, that’s okay. But at least they’re doing it in the spirit of it. I prefer that to the pretty-boy-wailing department.”

The paradox of pretty boy wailing is a funny one. For Plant was indeed the poster boy of 1970s sexuality, but I’d lumber to reduce his vocals to mere wailing. They were indeed expansive and emotive, but deeply rooted in a technicality that has rarely been replicated in music.

But many have tried, and some have even forged a successful career out of it. As Zeppelin disbanded at the turn of the decade, a void was ready to be filled by the next cock-rock icon. Axl Rose gleefully stepped forward to rebrand Plant’s sexuality into something more polished. In fact, his hair-metal contemporary David Lee Roth once said, “Axl’s starting out, and it’s really hard to tell potential early in the game. Axl imitates Plant pretty good.”

While many musicians fell wide of the mark, to their own embarrassment, underneath Plant’s bravado is a thorough understanding that the lines between influence and pastiche are relatively blurred. Nuggets of originality exist in the very act of recreating the greatness of your idols. Something Zeppelin knew well, having openly admitted to lifting lyrical and melodic elements from their forefathers. It’s all part of the lineage of music. But if you’re going to do it, do it right.