Robert Plant, Roseland Ballroom 6/1/01, Photo by Glyn Emmerson Photo © 2001 NY Rock

In the seventies, Led Zeppelin ruled the airwaves with sledgehammer beats, loud guitars and supersonic vocals that went from a whisper to a howl in seconds flat. Then abruptly, in 1980, after several top-selling albums and countless shows, lead singer Robert Plant and guitar slinger Jimmy Page gave the beast a rest following the alcohol-related death of their drummer John Bonham.

In 1994, Plant and Page engaged in their own reunion tour, which took familiar Zeppelin tunes and crunched them through a blender of North African traditional beats. During Plant's recent set in New York City, he took the obscure through a similar recipe, adding in world beats within the confines of guitar, bass and drums. (As an unrelated note, while the 1994 tour truly rocked, I must admit, the No Quarter album was a pile of poo encased in plastic.)

Robert Plant, Roseland Ballroom 6/1/01, Photo by Glyn Emmerson Photo © 2001 NY Rock

In 1999 and 2000, Page joined the Black Crowes for two brief tours, redressing the Zeppelin catalogue with seventies-rock-clone Black Crowes lead singer Chris Robinson at the helm. Plowing through the hits like a cover band, maestro Page presided over the Crowes' huddled excess like a warlock saint tending the flock.

Friday night, June 1, 2001, Robert Plant took to the stage at NYC's Roseland Ballroom like a battle-worn gladiator ready to reclaim the Zeppelin throne from such previously mentioned imitators of late. And Plant, who long ago mastered his own unique combination of sounds, from seventies' bombast to moody gothic odes of Celtic lore to psychedelic blues, was in fine form.

Plant and company managed to make the music delicate yet rugged, while remaining traditional as well. The set was an even mix of the obscure and semi-obscure Zeppelin tunes in which Plant teased the crowd by offering up the forgotten as well as the familiar.

The traditional "Morning Dew," which became a Grateful Dead staple and Garcia showcase, began slowly and built up to a barrage of riffs and wails that Plant belted out in the dark light like a true blues master. The band turned the Hendrix classic, "Hey, Joe," into a psychedelic romp through time, space, and a little purple haze. Slow and somber, the number suddenly bolted into a seething bundle of riffs, with a call and response from Plant that was eerily reminiscent of Zeppelin's "Dazed and Confused."

Led Zeppelin classics "In the Light," "Four Sticks" and "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" were straightforward attacks on the Zeppelin cannon. "Misty Mountain Hop" was a funked-up grind on stoner flower power delivered to a crowd of mostly "Almost Famous" generation types – a saggy crew puffing on Marlboros and downing Buds at lightning speed.

For the encore, "Whole Lotta Love," Plant's voice truly peaked. In lieu of those high notes from days of old, he now swaggers and belts out each note in a tone like no one else can. And he does it with clarity and class, not to mention a whole lot of sexual energy, that is magnetic – still.