Song Reassignment Surgery: Bold Covers, 2

Black Dog (Jones, Page, Plant), Franck Tortiller—Orchestre National de Jazz (2009)

Appropos of nothing but black: The Angriest Dog 
in the World by David Lynch

Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog (1971) was built on a dynamic of a call and response between singer and band—its format of start and stop a cappella verses was said to be inspired by Fleetwood Mac’s Oh Well (1969). According to Zep biographer Dave Lewis, the title references a nameless black labrador wandering around the studio at the time the band was recording. Otherwise, the dog had nothing to do with anything. The term black dog itself is often used as a metaphor for melancholy or depression. About half way in, after Robert Plant’s requisite rounds of salacious plaints, the song goes darker:

Didn't take too long ‘fore I found out/What people mean by down and out

The riff was devised by John Paul Jones. It would also be his first compositional contribution to the band (it was originally written on the back of a train ticket). The phrase was based on a reworking of a Muddy Waters riff. Its angular sound comes from its three measures of 3/4 (the first measure pausing a beat and a half before starting) and ending on a measure of 5/4. Drummer John Bonham ignores all of that and plays a straight 4/4 throughout. On the turnaround—a quirky 9/8—Bonzo accents with a cymbal crash that somehow smears it all together neatly. Jonesie thought the fraudulent beat was the necessary element that brought it all together: It managed to reach the Top 15 (U.S) singles chart. 

Those who’ve analyzed Zep’s rhythms and tempos know that they defy quantizing—i.e., while it sounds good, mathematically they’re a beautiful mess. The songs breathe.

Hearing that riff described through horns gives it a kind of stitched together polka feel. The song comes from an album of Zeppelin covers by French vibraphonist and bandleader Franck Tortiller.

Omnivores, Corinne Bailey Rae, and Some Beloved Evergreen Cheese

Listen up, kiddos: Once there was a band called Led Zeppelin and they ruled the world. Back in the dinosaur-friendly Jurassic – 1969-1976, the period before the In Through the Out Door album, I don’t bother with that one – many Western cave shelters had Zeppelin records on their shelves sitting next to a whole variety of other eclectic musicks. For my older sister, my gateway to the band, they were played in rotation with Cal Tjader, Pentangle, and Barbra Streisand. (My sister is way older than me.)

If you’re of a generation riper than Millennial, you may already suffer from a classic rock radio-induced Zeppelin fatigue. Try to forget that: Take some cleansing breaths and dig into this. (See the vid below.)

First some data: According to a study, music fans are divided into three categories: omnivores, univores, and a third group of omnivores that listens to fusty classical in addition to rock and pop. The majority of us are univores; people tend to be more like univore-like these days.

I’ve personally had some Zeppelin revisionism recently, influenced by the highly disputed (by the band itself – it’s not flattering) but very compelling band muckraker, The Hammer of the Gods (1985). (FYI: Some of its juicier bits are verifiably true, like Jimmy Page’s relationship with a then 15 year-old girlfriend. Google Lori Maddox.) While I can't deny the greatness of some of their output, I’ve had to take them down a few notches.

(Plus, Page’s post-Zeppelin legacy is pretty dismal – c’mon, Cloverdale Page and The Firm? Anyone? – and those weatherbeaten Page and Plant reunions. Though, you have to give props to Plant’s more recent work, especially with Alison Krauss and John Paul Jones’ work with Diamanda Galas and Them Crooked Vultures. Come to think, Page is the only stinker.)

Anyway, for me, the true Zeppelin evergreen has always been Since I've Been Loving You. If you’ve a low threshold gag reflex for unctuous cocktail lounge cheese, you may balk at where Corinne Baily Rae steers this gem to start. If so, then trust me, you’ll love the second half. I prefer the first but whatever: When people without Robert Plant’s Herculean wail try to go toe-to-toe with the original, they come off like a suckas. Rae doesn't go there. She journeys elsewhere else and it’s a brilliant choice.

She does it right:

"Guitar Riff Song of the Ages"

And that riff would be the one belonging to Train Kept a Rollin'.

In its original fingerpoppin' incarnation, the riffing was all piano and scat ba-doo-days. The groove is undergirded with a lyrical bouquet of postwar hipsterisms. This Train also offers up what is probably the greatest double entendre chorus ever written: The train kept a rollin' all night long and I still wouldn't let her go.

The song owes some debt to Cow-Cow Boogie.


Composer Tiny Bradshaw shuffles it along in 1951:



Johnny Burnette recognizes the song's carnal potential and sculpts it with a minor key slink in 1956. The result is a scorching, jungly vibe:

The Yardbirds bring the monumental riff of all rock guitar riffs in 1965. Behind the proto-metal figures, this version returns some residual swing and strips it of Burnette's jungly ambience. Keith Relf's double overlayed vocals are like a brain wrestling with good and evil:



The band rerecorded Train for the movie Blow Up. The producers couldn't get licensing clearance for the original so they changed the lyrics to Stroll On and electrocuted the riff, the fuzz-toned duel leads blowing from Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page. Many have argued that this is the moment where metal began. Whatever: it's friggin' hot.



Lemmy sludges it up and takes it back to the garage:



Jimmy Page brings it to early Led Zeppelin, 1969:



For most people, the reason they know of the song at all is for Aerosmith. The band released it as a single in 1974. It failed to chart at the time:



Live on television from 1974 on what may be the world's smallest stage:



Imelda May and "good ol' rockabilly":



While I was composing this piece I ran across a post for the Hard Rock Cafe's blog that had the same idea.

Babe I'm Gonna Leave You, Again

So, Miley Cyrus covers Led Zeppelin's version of Babe I'm Gonna Leave You and it's a joke, right?

Well, no, actually.

You've got to hear it to believe it.