Robert Plant
Band Of Joy

Robert Plant's flirtation with country/folk is an old affair, never hidden even during the Led Zeppelin days and even before forming the great rock band. Plant, in fact, resurrects the name of his first group, the Band of Joy (which also included his friend John Bonham), places it as the title of the work, and dives headfirst into interpreting twelve classics of the genre, partly continuing the successful work started in partnership with Alison Krauss. Assisted by the experienced Buddy Miller, present as producer and musician, and under the supervision of the now ubiquitous T-bone Burnett, he undertakes a warm and reassuring journey around American roots, building one of his most successful solo albums. And we know that during his post-Zeppelin career, he never liked to rest on his laurels or live off past glory.
Staying true to his quest for new sounds around the world, now over sixty, he seems to have found his new creative land in America among pedal and lap steel, banjos, and mandolins, defying those who dreamed of another far(l)sa reunion of the airship. While his friend and former companion John Paul Jones tortures the eardrums with the post-stoner rock of Them Crooked Vultures, Plant chooses to soothe souls with his voice, which has become even warmer and more enchanting over the years.

A journey through musical America traversing folk, country, blues, rock'n'roll, and soul starts with some traditionals like Satan your kingdom must come down, desolate and dark enough to awaken evil ghosts dormant over time, or Cindy, I'll marry you someday. House of Cards is by Richard Thompson and was included in First Light of 1978, while the album opens with Angel Dance by now-friends Los Lobos, with whom he has recently shared the stage.
Assisted by the female voice of Patty Griffin, present in several tracks, almost taking on the role of Krauss.
Monkey is a song by Low, a contemporary band loved by Plant and still yet to be fully discovered, of which he also reprises Silver Rider, just to reaffirm the profound respect he harbors for the expanded music of this indie band from Duluth while with a backward leap, he pays homage to the great Townes Van Zandt by masterfully reprising and interpreting his Harm's Swift Way.
Central Two-O-Nine is the only original song on the album composed with Miller and is a western travel song in the desert, while with You Can't Buy Love he taps into an old Kelly Brothers track and makes it his own with an interpretation closely reminiscent of 1950s rock'n'roll ballads that would make even the most confidential Elvis envious.
The only concession to modernity is the final Even This Shall Pass Away, which with its loops and noises clashes with the rest of the album, even though it has a text taken from the nineteenth century.

An album of covers that certainly won't bring anything new to the career of one who has already extensively written music history but which cements even more the future of an artist who never really sold out and never more than in these recent years (also listen to his Mighty Rearranger of 2005, in my opinion, superb) is striving to explore new paths, awaiting the imminent release of the second chapter in tandem with Krauss. Certainly, the idea of delving into the past seems to be the fashion of the moment practiced by many musicians, following in the footsteps of Cash's American Recording, but everything can be forgiven to Plant's voice.