Led Zeppelin Remastered Original vinyl 180gr

[mélaudiophile]

Salut les fans de Led Zep.

J'aime bien quand on dit du mal de ce que j'aime, quand c'est dit avec style. Autrefois je lisais le New Musical Express, j'aimais beaucoup à cause du style et des opinions parfois à rebrousse-poils.

Voici une critique au vitriol de l'album "Coda", dont il faut reconnaître que ce n'est pas leur meilleur..et de Led Zep en général. Pratique de l'anglais indispensable, mais quel audiophile n'est pas bilingue ? A la limite traduction automatique mais le style rend ça assez aléatoire.

Led Zeppelin- Coda
Richard Cook, New Musical Express, 11 December 1982
THAT THERE is no appreciable difference between 'We're Gonna Groove' from 1969 and 'Wearing And Tearing' from 1978 – the opening and closing tracks in this sackcloth and compilation of unissued Led Zeppelin material – isn't merely the evidence of their utter failure to rise above a style of automatic redundancy. It is, coupled with their success and influence, the stuff of tragedy.
The most disgraceful thing about Zeppelin was their absolute lack of intelligence. Never mind their boorish excess, their ox-like insensitivity and their thuggish absence of grace – it was their ignorance that was so appalling.
The gargoyle offspring of heavy metal they suckled were fed on a celebration of the moronic. They weren't stupid – stupid HM could at least have a certain humour about it, although the myth of 'glorious vacuity' is a dangerous one – they were less than that. They made unfounded arrogance an end in itself.
Zeppelin were largely responsible for the terrible state of American rock. Although they were popular enough over here they influenced American directions with dictatorial absoluteness. Only now, with fourth or fifth generation strains like the beaming young jackals of Loverboy, is the mutant beginning to take on a different shape; but even today (witness Robert Plant's enormous solo success) America harbours a primordial lust for the gargantuan dribble of Zeppelin music.
Coda will do well enough over there, although even admirers might feel a little short-changed. The one relief of the record is its brevity, eight tracks totalling a little over 30 minutes. They comprise various warm-ups and out-takes all quite without consequence – idiot blues, folk ('Poor Tom', an acoustic track which has most appeal because of its comparative restraint) and the sweating labours of a rock music taken by an agonising bowel disorder.
Because Jimmy Page hadn't an iota of a pop consciousness, Zeppelin never stood a chance of the chart legitimacy of Status Quo, their smarter cousins. They never made a single – not because they were above all that but because they never knew how to.
Such a failing leaves them stranded in these enlightened times: Zeppelin made an unpleasant virtue out of stamping oafishly on trends, and now their blinkered sights have turned ruthlessly on them. History cannot remember Led Zeppelin kindly: it will hold them culpable, ludicrous, addled lords of misrule.
Their graveyard status seems assured when you hear this record and realise that there is nothing you want to recall. In a sound in which John Bonham's bass drum is the predominant factor (Bonham's vegetable technique is presented in the completely unlistenable 'Bonzo's Montreux') its colourless fury is the make-up of exhaustion.
But perhaps the greatest tragedy is the way they insist the legacy will live on. If Jimmy Page genuinely expects to make millions from what will be a Led Zeppelin 2 in all but name then the grand illusion is unshakable – and it's frightening to think he may succeed.
It isn't Abba who are the most pernicious influence to have blighted popular music – it may still, alas, be this terrible group.



Jean