Also on the bill: Vanilla Fudge and Jethro Tull, for 2 nights in Chicago.

Press Review: It was Vanilla Fudge, offering one of the most exciting shows ever given in Aaron Russo’s Kinetic Playground a week ago last night. And they were not alone. Also there, and making their Chicago debut, were Led Zeppelin, the new supergroup, a la Cream and Jeff Beck, led by former Yardbird guitarist Jimmy Page.

On stage, the group’s act is a balanced blend of unaffected musicianship (particularly Page) and strong physical presence (particularly vocalist Robert Plant).

Offstage, interestingly enough, the characters hold true.  Jimmy stands quietly on the sidelines, talking a little to the other musicians; Plant constantly clowns, even wrestles with the other stars, and wonders between vocal imitations if there is any milk left in the cooler.

Zeppelin’s portion of the show started a little slowly, with Jimmy sitting down and soloing on White Summer, from the Yardbird days. I worried a bit, as he had said just before that they would mostly solo and improvise the second set and he wished I could have been there for the first.

Then came Babe I’m Gonna Leave You, the group’s arrangement of the traditional folk song which is my favorite cut from the new Atlantic album. All doubts vanished.

Plant is a superb stylist, but that doesn’t keep him from enjoying himself at the same time. He peppered his deliveries with lines and phrases from other songs. Underground radio announcer Psyche and I played a game to see who could identify the most songs. I caught the beginning of Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth, during Fresh Garbage, as well as the end of Summertime and picked up on By The Time I Get To Phoenix in Babe. But she won by spotting, of all things, Green Door in the middle of Dazed and Confused.

The encore came when the audience – and almost the whole, wall-to-wall crowd stayed around after the Fudge to see Zeppelin and the other group, Jethro Tull – absolutely refused to let the four go. They were halfway up the backstage stairs when the cheers brought them back.

The added number was another showstopper. Page bowed his guitar (yes, like a violin and the sound is incredible in its eeriness) during the number and his interplay with Plant was at its best. The two stood facing each other, throwing the musical ball back and forth, nodding in time with each beat.

It would have been enough. Even without John Paul Jones, a bassist who can hold his own with any in the business (and a triumph on one solo sneaked on Mark Stein’s organ) or John Bonham on drums. And even without Vanilla Fudge or Jethro Tull. [Tribune / 2-16-69]