datingblog com - Plant dating krauss

Not once does Plant attempt the sky-splitting, larynx-shredding screams for which he was once renowned; instead, the more reflective, homely warmth of Raising Sand is employed to throw new light on further hidden corners of American musical heritage.

"For me, it's no longer to do with vanity, ego, and visible success," says Plant.

"I'm singing this bollocks, 'what kind of fool am I...', and whenever we went out of sight of the cameras, they were just chasing me, trying to get hold of my old chap, to have a look!

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John Bonham, a friend of Plant's from the Midlands heartland of heavy rock, was perhaps rock's greatest powerhouse drummer, eschewing the fussy jazz filigree of such as Cream's Ginger Baker and Jimi Hendrix Experience's Mitch Mitchell in favour of a crunching, dynamic rhythmic undercarriage that was strong enough to carry the heaviest of riffs.

Jimmy Page himself was a dazzling technician with a questing, experimental spirit: even at the band's earliest shows, he was playing guitar with a bow, and incorporating a small Theremin to broaden the sonic palette with outlandish electronic effects.

I vividly recall seeing the band in its infancy at Nottingham's Boat Club, where, despite packing as many decibels as groups like Earth (later Black Sabbath) and Free, the massive riff-driven songs boasted a superior finesse and subtlety which has rarely been equalled by later generations of heavy rockers.

But it was Robert Plant who was the decisive onstage presence, the quintessential rock'n'roll combination of sylph-like grace, crushed-velvet style and banshee blues-wail falsetto, capped with the waterfall of blond ringlets which, even as he turns 62, still form a resplendent cascade down his back.

I've gone from being in that huge band to picking up the pieces of my own gift." His friendship with Alison Krauss seems to have reignited in Plant a long-dormant affinity for the simple pleasures of family music.

"She loves to sit around in the parlour singing those old songs with whichever family's coming into town," he explains, "in the same way that my grandfather used to do in the Black Country: they'd sit around with fiddles and sing.

', and when I came over the top of the dune, I was flushed from running.

They just didn't give a toss, 'cos they were either widows or prostitutes, so they had no social status.

I never thought it had much relevance, until I realised that all of my memories of my father's father were jubilant.

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