It’s sheep shearing time up in the Black Country, and not the most opportune moment for a Gentleman Farmer to give an interview. I mean, there’s the sheep pens to be erected, the flock to be herded down from the hillside pasture, the title of a new Led Zeppelin album to be considered.

Thirty minutes later, we’re careening at break-neck speed down narrow country lanes with Robert Plant hugging the left-hand-drive steering wheel.

“She’s a great ol' bus,” hollers the Lemon Squeeze Kid over the indignant roar of the engine. “Trouble is, the engine has this unfortunate habit of spilling petrol all over the place and catching fire. If it does, the fire extinguisher is just by your feet.”

"Pop Star And Scribe Fried To A Frazzle. ” The headline flashes through my brain as Plant kicks down hard on the accelerator and guns his brown 1948 Chevy pick-up truck frantically down a 4 in 1 gradient and then, without so much as a “Don’t-blow-your-breakfast-on-thedashboard,” executes a full 90 degree turn and thunders down a bumpy unmade excuse for a road. __

“I’m not so hot on interviews,” he yells, navigating a massive pot-hole, “but I’m great on guided tours.”

The screech of brakes is accompanied by the pungent smell of burnt rubber and we slide to an abrupt halt outside Whitley Court, a once glorious country mansion gutted by fire 40 years ago and subsequently left to decay.

“It’s got the largest ornamental fountain in Europe,” offers our guide, zip-, ping up his fly while emerging from the bushes he disappeared into a few moments earlier.

He claps his hands together: “You get some great echoes around here.” He claps his hands a second time and notes the natural playback. “I think we’ll have to record some vocal tracks up here one night.”

Zeppelin, it seems, are continually on the lookout for unusual acoustical locations. Plant tells of an attempt to record a track for the new Zeppelin album out of doors, when a jet plane ruined what could have been an intriguing session. On another occasion, Plant tried to lay down some vocals late one night in a quadrangle when he was “suddenly attacked by a gaggle of geese and had to jump smartly through a window.”

A new album (a double one at that) is “imminent,” although where Zeppelin are concerned “imminent” is an extremely flexible term.

“Actually, Jimmy and I are just putting the final touches to the thing and haggling over the title,” says Plant, pulling out a packet of Park Drive.

“On the surface, this band might not appear to be a hive of industry, but when we do get something together it’s always something that we’re 'all completely satisfied with. That’s the reason we never rush things or try to push our luck.”

The last thing the Zep can be accused of is spreading themselves thin. A track record of five albums in six years ensurerthat the release of a new Zeppelin collection remains an important event in the rock calendar. Not laziness, says Plant, simply a case of quality before quantity.

“When you’re recording, it’s absolutely no good thinking that the tracks will just about do. If you take that attitude you’re finished.

"Our aggression is nothing more than pure energy."

“In the studio we get everything as good as we can possibly make it. It’s no use me moaning to you that we could have made a much better album once it’s on sale.

“Thankfully, we know if things aren’t right, and as such we have the enthusiasm, and enough pride in what we’re doing to make sure that everything we do is properly played, recorded, mixed and cut. It’s no good putting out an album for the sake of putting out an album.”

But what about all those rumors of delays due to recording? Plant explains: “Though the album comprises a lot of stuff that we’ve recently recorded, we decided that as we have so much good stuff stock-piled from the past that was just as gopd, we might as well use the best of that lot with the outstanding tracks that have emerged from the more recent sessions.”

When Zeppelin do emerge from long periods of hibernation, they invariably point their nose-cone in one direction and go charging hell-for-leather right around the globe for anything up to three months without a break.

Says Plant: “That’s where all the enjoyment is, out there on the road ... that great rush of adrenalin and activity. It’s always exciting.

John Bonham, in a reflective mood, once told me that touring was a question of continually exchanging one set of interiors for another: jet plane/car/ hotel room/car/dressing room/stage/ car/hotel/car/clubs/airport, etc., etc., etc.

“He’s right yer know,” says Plant, “and as the interiors change they start to swim before your eyes. But that’s all part of the excitement. You’ve got to prepare yourself physically before you go out on a tour.

“If you keep breaking off for a week’s rest here and a week’s rest there, you quickly loose the momentum and return to your natural plod. You must keep going no matter what happens and that’s hard when you’re getting on a bit.”

He laughs, and. admits to being 25 last birthday.

“Touring, though, is a real 1,000 miles an hour speed trip — with that power rush you get of actually performing before large crowds every night — and that’s why it’s worth carrying on. Because we still excite our audience. We’ve just got to be good; we’ve got to impress; we’ve got to be exactly what we are and give just that bit more than people expect.

“If you take things easy and let things slide then you might just as well forget the whole thing. It’s fatal to become complacent.”

Zeppelin’s music — in particular its lyrical content — hasn’t after six years, revealed any noticeable traces of cynicism or disillusionment: a rare and noble quality in these troubled times. None of that jaded “ain’t-it-a-drag-tobe-a-rock-star” self-pity being trotted out by these boys. In fact, one could go so far as to infer — and many people have — that Robert Plant’s writing reveals him as something of a latter-day Flower Child.

Looking me square in the eyes, Plant says, “That suits me fine. It’s probably just my naivete showing through. Sure, ‘Zep’s music is aggressive, but it’s not hateful. Our aggression is nothing more sinister than pure energy. It’s a release and a nice one at that. Now about being cynical ... if I was like that, then I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing with this group, I’d probably be out of the business.

“Luckily, we’ve got a very original situation whereby our success can’t go sour on us. But if I’d been slipping too much into sheep shearing, then Jimmy is the one who’d pull me out of it, ’cause he’s forever coming up with new ideas. He’s always trying to improve upon things and so the experiences we’ve shared being together for six years show precisely what kind of group we are when we’re writing and recording material for a new album.

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CONTINUED FROM PAGE 46

“So maybe that’s why things have never gone sour on Zeppelin. To be honest, I don’t really know just how far it has to go before it does become sour. I have my ups and downs just like anyone else. For instance, I can get very irritable with myself if I don’t match up to the level that I think I can attain. So, if I have three nights when my voice is not so good ... it usually takes three gigs for my voice to mold into the swing of things; at the end of the third night I’m waiting frantically for the fourth. If the fourth night is great, then I haven’t got a single care in the world, but, if on that fourth night things are still a bit dodgy, then ...”

Down at Plant’s local, most of the regulars regard him as just one of the lads who happens to be in a “pop group.” “It was only when that photograph taken of us in our private jet on the last tour appeared in one of the Nationals that a couple of them grasped that I haven’tdone too badly for myself.

“One bloke came over to me in the bar one night and said he’d worked it out, that we earned something ridiculous like 800 pounds a minute, so I said to him jokingly, that he should feel lucky that I had the time to drink with him!”