MUSIC

Coronation Tap, Bristol (Thur 5 Jan)

There’s an inevitable sense of laddishness about this one. As the Coritap steadily fills, it becomes clear that the boys are back in town, with a preponderance of shiny and/or grey heads betokening first generation heavy rockers aplenty. You get the edgy feeling there’s a whole lotta love to be gained here, as long as the band don’t fall short of those high expectations. Happily, however, it’s soon apparent that this is a well-pleased crowd – and so it should be, because what’s happening is a high-calibre tribute to some of the greatest ever chunks of hand-hewn rawk. What’s impressive is that it’s actually not that loud, despite the small venue. What gives it impact is the microtight playing and the sheer architecture of those amazing anthemic songs. What’s also impressive is that this is their third gig on the trot and singer Ady Davies is wrestling with a well-worn larynx. Happily it seems that regular doses of what makes the Cori famous soon overcome that problem and, anyway, a bit of roadkill in the mix is probably a bonus.

Musically, for me, Zep was always driven by John Bonham’s drumming and Jimmy Page’s guitar, so while there’s no doubt about Jerry Soffe’s bass and Andy Crowdy’s guitar/keyboard contributions, tonight it’s Daisy Palmer’s drumming and Denny Ilett’s lead guitar that will make or break things. Needless to say, nothing’s broken here, and as the audience mouths every word, Denny’s cool demeanour unleashes barrages of classic chops (you have to remember that, like Shakespeare, Led Zeppelin wrote the clichés that others still play) and – bless her! – there’s nothing remotely cool about Ms Palmer as she flails and thunders, ebbs and flows with all the harboured power of the original. Towards the end of the gig, after ‘Ocean’ and ‘Stairway’ and suchlike, happily they do ‘Moby Dick’, with it’s lengthy drum solo letting Daisy flail herself to a standstill, and they finish on a segue of ‘Whole Lotta Love’ and ‘Communication Breakdown’ (“Just how the Zep do it!” affirmed my expert friend). Ady’s voice holds good to the end – he is close to perfect in his Plantisms – and the pub finally disgorges some very happy men-of-a-certain-age into the bracing starlight of a wintry Clifton. (Tony Benjamin)

Copyright Tony Benjamin 2012