40 years of ‘Coda’, the Led Zeppelin finale
For a moment in time, there was nothing left for Led Zeppelin to do. Once John Bonham died in 1980, the legendary hard rock giants immediately disbanded, putting a permanent end to one of the greatest bands in history. Jimmy Page felt a particular sense of confusion once Zeppelin was officially kaput. With debts from the band’s Swan Song label and contractual obligations from their parent company, Atlantic Records, Page took the opportunity to revisit the Zeppelin vault.
Plundering the depths of the vault was nothing new for Led Zeppelin. The band’s legendary 1975 double album Physical Graffiti was filled out with some necessary outtakes. What remained was a hodgepodge of unreleased songs, live cuts, and various odds and ends. Needing to give one final album to Atlantic, Page returned to the studio to assemble a new compilation album, Coda.
According to Page himself, however, the impetus of the project had a more practical foundation. “Coda was released, basically, because there was so much bootleg stuff out,” Page said in 2015. “We thought, ‘Well, if there’s that much interest, then we may as well put the rest of our studio stuff out.'” Coda cleaned out what remained of the band’s vault – a final collection of what Zeppelin had to offer.
Unlike Physical Graffiti, the material that made up Coda was more notably cast-off outtakes. Kicking off with a cover of Ben E. King’s ‘We’re Gonna Groove’ which was recorded (minus Page’s overdubbed guitar parts) at the band’s legendary 1970 appearance at the Royal Albert Hall, Coda often suffers from a lack of true inspiration or purpose.
The acoustic folk ‘Poor Tom’ is grounded in Bonham’s marching drum performance, which would hover over Coda. Next is a live rendition of the Led Zeppelin I blues explosion ‘I Can’t Quit You Babe’, culled from the same January 9th concert that produced ‘We’re Gonna Groove’. The band’s intensity can’t be ignored, especially when Page’s spontaneous solo erupts like a volcano, but it all seems slightly redundant and pointless.
Had Coda been released at a later date, or had the album been more clearly pushed as an outtakes compilation, it probably wouldn’t have to carry the additional weight and expectations that it does. But at the time, Coda was hyped as the final Led Zeppelin album. More so, it was touted as a harder return to form after the keyboard-heavy sounds of In Through the Out Door. On the whole, Coda is more muscular in its sound, even if its compositions and arrangements are slight by Zeppelin’s lofty standards.
Zeppelin mostly wallops away at full volume throughout Coda, treated with Page’s questionable production choices. Situated somewhere between the dry impact of the band’s early-1970s sound and the more-modern touches of gated reverb, much of Coda sounds like it was recorded in an empty aeroplane hanger. That is, except for the live songs, which are curiously stripped of their live elements like crowd noise and natural reverb.
Three of the four songs on the album’s back half were culled from the In Through the Out Door sessions. ‘Ozone Baby’ is closer to traditional FM rock than Zeppelin ever seemed to get, which is probably why it was initially rejected by the band. ‘Darlene’ is little more than an old-school rock and roll pastiche, but without the intoxicating hooks of previous pastiches like ‘Rock and Roll’ or ‘Boogie with Stu’.
Really, the only song on the album (other than the ripping version of ‘I Can’t Quit You Babe’) that’s truly worth sticking around for is the album closer, ‘Wearing and Tearing’. Inspired by the energy and ferociousness of punk, the song indicates one of the many possible paths that Zeppelin had in front of them had they been able to make it into the 1980s.
Just before the end of the album, there is one final tribute to Bonham: ‘Bonzo’s Montreaux’. Serving largely the same purpose that Bonham’s live workhorse ‘Moby Dick’ did, ‘Bonzo’s Montreaux’ comes complete with a number of effects and studio tricks Page concocted, some of which enhance the performance. On the whole, Page’s additions are mostly cheesy and unnecessary, depriving Bonham of one final and unfiltered goodbye.
If nothing else, Coda allowed Zeppelin fans one final album to remember one of the heaviest bands of all time. But even in its most inspired moments, Coda can’t help but feel like a slap-dash addition to the legendary Zeppelin discography. 40 years on, not much has changed. Coda is still a fascinating look at Zeppelin’s warts and all archives, but it’s hardly essential listening for anyone other than the Zeppelin faithful.
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