Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti Review

The album opens with a strut, not a statement. Page plays the guitar solo through an ARP synthesiser, giving it a nasal, compressed tone that cuts through Jones's Hohner Clavinet and Plant's harmonica. The first take was faster, with improvised vocals, but the band slowed it down and tightened the arrangement. It is a strong opener that sets the tone without overselling the album, a confident mid-tempo rocker that does its job and gets out.

Written in 1970 at Bron-Yr-Aur, recorded as an acoustic demo that year, reworked as an electric track in 1972, and finished with Page's guitar overdubs in 1974, this song took four years to complete and sounds like it was cut in one session. The production hides the seams, and the song has the melodic clarity and the dynamic range of the band's best mid-tempo rockers. It is not a highlight, but it is proof that the outtakes were worth saving.

Eleven minutes of blues-rock built around a traditional song Dylan had recorded in 1962, expanded into a full-band arrangement with stop-start sections that Bonham led. The track was recorded live, with Page adding slide guitar overdubs later, and the performance has the feel of a band working out an idea in real time. Bonham's off-mic cough at the end and his shout—'That's got to be the one, hasn't it?'—were left in to show the process. The length is earned by the dynamics and the way the arrangement builds and releases tension, though the song could have ended two minutes earlier without losing anything. It is the clearest example of the improvisation and room sound that made Headley Grange productive, and it became a live staple for good reason.

Recorded in May 1972 as the title track for the album of the same name, left off because it was too similar to 'Dancing Days,' and included here with no further overdubs or remixing. The song has a bounce and a melodic clarity that make it one of the album's most accessible tracks, and it was the right call to leave it off the fifth album—it would have been redundant there—and the right call to include it here, where it balances the heavier material on side two.

A jam session driven by Jones on Clavinet, reworked by Bonham into a funk arrangement after he decided the original version was too souly. Bonham told Page to play a repeating riff instead of chords, and the result is the album's tightest and most propulsive track, a funk-rock hybrid that became a live staple and a solo-tour fixture for Plant. The lyrics are double entendres about driving and cars, delivered with enough swagger that they work. The song was released as a single in the US and became a top forty hit, and it is the most accessible track on the album without being a compromise.

An instrumental demo from late 1973, expanded with Plant's lyrics written in Morocco and Jones's string and brass arrangements played by session musicians. The orchestration is spare and modal, closer to minimalist film scoring than to symphonic rock, and the song's eight-and-a-half-minute length is earned by the hypnotic riff and the way the arrangement builds in layers. The song became one of the album's most critically acclaimed tracks and was played at every show from 1975 onward. Page and Plant revived it for their 1994 tour, and it was reworked in 1998 by Sean 'Puffy' Combs for his single 'Come With Me,' which featured Page on guitar. It is the album's signature track and one of the band's defining songs, a piece that proved Zeppelin could work at extended length without losing focus.

Originally called 'In the Morning,' this track went through several rehearsals and takes to work out a structure, with Page adding a drone and chant introduction later. The song has the ambition and the length of a progressive rock piece, with shifting sections and a build that earns its eight-and-a-half-minute running time. It is not as immediately compelling as 'Kashmir,' but it is a solid example of the band working out complex arrangements in the studio, and it holds up on repeat listens. The track never became a live staple, which suggests the band knew it was more of a studio piece than a performance showcase.

A solo acoustic piece by Page, named after the Welsh cottage where he and Plant wrote much of the third album. Recorded at Island Studios in mid-1970 and later used as background music in the band's film The Song Remains the Same. It is a brief instrumental that serves as a breather between the longer tracks on side three, pleasant but not essential.

Written at Bron-Yr-Aur in 1970 as an acoustic track influenced by Neil Young, then reworked as an electric number in 1971 with tempo shifts from slow to fast and back. Page and Bonham led the arrangement, and the shifts work, giving the song a dynamic range that keeps it interesting over five minutes. It is not a highlight, but it is a solid example of the band's acoustic and folk-influenced work, and it fits the album's range.

Plant wrote the lyrics about an old love affair, and Page combined them with an instrumental piece featuring overdubbed electric and acoustic guitars. When the band played the track live, Jones used a triple-neck guitar with mandolin, six-string and twelve-string to reproduce the overdubs. The song is one of the album's most accomplished pieces, a ballad that builds without losing its intimacy, and it shows Plant singing with the control and conviction of someone who has nothing left to prove. It is the strongest track on side three and one of the album's lasting highlights.

Recorded at Headley Grange in 1971 for the fourth album, with Jones on Hammond organ and Page playing guitar through a Leslie speaker. Plant wrote the lyrics after reading a news headline about a nuclear damage test threat, and the song never finds a focus. The organ and guitar tones are interesting, but the track meanders and the lyrics do not cohere. It is filler.

Built around a Page riff and straightforward to arrange, unlike some of the other 1974 Headley Grange tracks. The song is a solid hard rocker with Bonham driving the groove and Plant delivering the vocals with swagger. It is not a highlight, but it does its job and keeps side four from collapsing entirely. The track was never a live staple, which suggests the band knew it was not top-tier material.

A 1971 jam session with Rolling Stones pianist Ian Stewart, based on Ritchie Valens's 'Ooh My Head.' The track was recorded during the same session that produced 'Rock and Roll' for the fourth album, and it sounds exactly like a loose jam that was never meant to be released. It is filler, and it drags side four down.

Recorded in the garden at Stargroves in 1972 for Houses of the Holy, with an airplane passing overhead left in for effect. The track is a loose acoustic number with a country-rock feel, pleasant but slight. It is the weakest of the outtakes included on the album, and it would not be missed if it had been left off.

Written about the groupies the band met on the 1973 tour, with Bonham's drumming and Page's riffs driving the track. The arrangement was worked out before recording, and the song is a straightforward hard rocker that closes the album on a strong note. It is not a highlight, but it is a solid closer that reminds the listener of what the band does best after a side that sags in the middle. The track became a live staple and was a regular part of the setlist from 1975 onward.