Led Zeppelin – ‘Houses of the Holy’
It is physically impossible to start an album on a more exciting note than Led Zeppelin did on fifth studio effort, Houses of the Holy. Immediately sprinting out of the gate with the high-octane overture ‘The Song Remains the Same’ is a sure sign that Zeppelin haven’t lost any vitality or impact as they enter the latter part of their first decade together. In fact, the massive shows, constant touring, infamous extracurricular activities, occult preoccupations, and diehard crowds seemed to fuel the band to new heights.
After perfecting the blues and practically inventing hard rock on their first two albums, Zeppelin slowed things down with the more introspective and folky Led Zeppelin III. The follow-up, Led Zeppelin IV, was meant to be a kickback at critics who felt that the band’s brand was starting to outgrow the music itself. Zeppelin IV was, and is, the perfect hard rock album. But the band themselves wanted to stretch their legs and have a little fun. Gathering at Mick Jagger’s country home, the group decided to let loose with a wild mix of rock, prog, folk, funk, reggae, doo-wop, and anything else that could come to mind.
‘The Song Remains The Same’, with all four members working overtime to stuff in as much celebratory arena rock as one song could take. Jimmy Page’s arsenal of guitars takes on a distinctively sunny tone, with John Bonham and John Paul Jones almost audibly grinning their way through an air-tight groove. When Robert Plant eventually comes in, he hits high notes that were wild even for him. As Page races his way through the arrangement, Plant matches him beat for beat with an assurance that Led Zeppelin will always bring the goods, whether they’re in the “California sunlight” or the “Sweet Calcutta rain.”
The last line proves to be a bit of foreshadowing as Page switches over to an acoustic guitar for ‘The Rain Song’. As delicate and beautiful as Zeppelin ever were on record, ‘The Rain Song’ fits into both definitions of a ballad: the traditional meaning as an epic tale, and the modern take as a slow musical number. As he yearns for the cleansing downpour, Plant effortlessly reaches elegant new heights by channelling the flower power that would be explicitly referenced later in the album. Jones’ orchestral arrangements are subtly powering the entire track, all of which come from Jones’ mastery of the Mellotron. It’s a high water mark for Houses of the Holy and Zeppelin as composers, rivalling the intense builds of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and ‘In the Light’.
Page sticks with the acoustic for the intro to ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’. Revitalising Plant’s interest in fantastical imagery, the track shimmers with hippie-dippie free love. That is until John Bonham comes thundering in. Once he does, ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’ flies higher and higher with infectious hard rock energy. Page weaves in some harmonised guitar work as Bonham and Jones shake their soulful stop-start stomp for all its worth. Just as the song reaches its triumphant fade, Jones adds a wistful keyboard coda that gets complimented by a bit of Page slide. It’s an elegant and stately ending to one of the band’s best songs.
Then comes time for John Bonham to come into his own. As a student of R&B and a master of rhythm, Bonham wanted to show off his fleet-footed style on a James Brown-type of song. Of course, since it’s Led Zeppelin, that means it has to have a wild time signature. ‘The Crunge’ is as mind-bending as any song that Zeppelin ever did, twisting and turning through a ferociously funky arrangement complete with Jones doing his best James Jamerson and Page perfecting Nile Rodgers-style chicken scratch guitar five whole years before anyone knew who Niles Rodgers was.
Plant practically improvises his way through the entire track, even dictating what section the band goes with vocal cues. When he calls for the bridge, there’s none to be found. Instead, Plant turns it into a lighthearted joke, talking with himself, trying to find “that confounded bridge.” For a band that occasionally had to weather accusations of taking themselves way too seriously, ‘The Crunge’ is a light and goofy lark that still kicks as much ass as any song in the Zeppelin catalogue.
Side two launches with the euphoric ‘Dancing Days’. Plant once again embraces his persona as the long-haired hippie messiah, assuring the listener that celebrations are on their way. Zeppelin have no time for the blues on Houses of the Holy, something that could alienate true believers of the band’s early material. The lighter tone makes more sense when you look at Zeppelin’s work on a timeline: by 1972, all their hard work had made them the undisputed biggest band in the world. Forgive them if they’re in a celebratory mood.
The band are successful in jumping across genres, and with the warm and radiant energy flowing through the album, why not take on reggae as their next genre of choice. ‘D’yer Ma’ker’ has accrued a notorious reputation: for doubters, it was the moment that Zeppelin became too cute for their own good. But ‘D’yer Ma’ker’ is welcoming and inviting, with an infectious melody that surely got more than a few first-time listeners interested in Led Zeppelin. Like most of the album, ‘D’yer Ma’ker’ sounds like Zeppelin is having the absolute time of their lives, with Plant especially keen to ham it up in gloriously over-the-top fashion.
Unlike the delicate and hopeful tones of ‘The Rain Song’, ‘No Quarter’ is at the opposite end of the band’s sprawling epics: dark, brooding, and moody. Jones’ major compositional contribution to Houses of the Holy saw him take hold of keyboards and craft the most atmospheric Zeppelin number in their entire catalogue. Plant’s heavily-treated vocals are the harbinger of doom, spinning images of hellhounds and Vikings that recall ‘The Immigrant Song’. The titular phrase is equivalent to “no mercy”, and throughout the seven-minute cycle of ‘No Quarter’, that’s exactly how Zeppelin attacks the track, with Plant unleashing one of his most potent screams by the song’s end.
Even though their albums are what continue to resonate with new fans, there was something visceral and unique about Led Zeppelin’s live shows. Rock audiences had found the first band who could truly make an arena the perfect-sized venue. As Plant looked through the massive sea of bodies, he couldn’t help but pay tribute. ‘The Ocean’ is Zeppelin’s thank you to their legions of followers, complete with shuffling off-kilter rhythms, jubilent call-and-response vocals, and a final doo-wop coda that ends Houses of the Holy on a major high note.
Led Zeppelin were at such a peak while recording Houses of the Holy that they couldn’t save space for all the amazing material. Even the album’s title song had to be left on the cutting room floor, later resurfacing along with ‘The Rover’ and ‘Black Country Woman’ on the band’s follow-up, 1975’s Physical Graffiti.
How anyone could be dismissive of the eight legendary tracks from Houses of the Holy is anyone’s guess, it should be rightfully embraced as one of the band’s best. It certainly is their most fun and joyous, with only ‘No Quarter’ adding a more sombre note to the no-stop onslaught of summertime sunshine that radiates throughout the album.
Houses of the Holy is the first time that Led Zeppelin took in the view from the top of the mountain. Nobody could touch them in terms of popularity, but certain factions were still trying to take down their abilities as musicians and songwriters. After stuffing four albums with “borrowed” blues licks, Houses of the Holy is undeniably original in ways that no other Led Zeppelin album is. On bad days, it’s simply a great summer album. On good days, it looks like the best album the band ever made.
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