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Roll over Terry Reid and tell Roy Harper the news; Led Zeppelin are set to tour, gobsmackingly minus iconic frontman Robert Plant who, after protracted touring with Alison Krauss, has announced himself hors de combat. The feelings of their figurehead apparently trampled underfoot (perhaps there's been a communication breakdown?), a suddenly galvanised Page, Jones and Bonham Jr, are said to be making a whole lotta Zep plans: world tours, new recordings et al. With Plant rooted, the trio have been auditioning replacement vocalists and one Myles Kennedy (born 1969--the year after Zep launched--and lately of US rockers Alter Bridge, it says here) is widely forecast as the next incumbent.

Of course, Zep have had cause to reconfigure once already--Jason Bonham occupying his late father's drum stool for last year's much-fêted Ahmet Ertegün tribute concert. Less a substitution and more a seamless ascent to the ancestral throne, it proved that drummers, however vigorous or distinctive, don't define bands (ask The Who and R.E.M.). Drafting in a ringer to front up the enterprise is quite another matter. Can any band sans "Percy" Plant really justify the name Led Zeppelin?

Allegedly the possessor of a mighty, four-octave vocal range--not to mention the requisite bountiful tresses--Kennedy is charged with filling Plant's blouson and leather strides while somehow avoiding Stars In Their Eyes pastiche. It's an unenviable role, mainly because everything about it smells wrong, especially in light of the precedents set by Paul Rodgers in the awkward, 0.2 version of Queen, or Ian Astbury's injudicious liaison with The Doors. Questionable as those reformations seem, both combos at least had an excuse for deploying a substitute vocalist, their erstwhile frontmen having gone to the great gig in the sky. Robert Plant, on the other hand, appears to be in rather rude health.

Granted, heavy rockers from Deep Purple to Iron Maiden have traditionally taken the jettisoning of vocalists in their spandex stride (which perhaps says more about the homogeneity of post-Percy metal screeching than anything), while rock history is peppered with combos who evince the "earthworm effect"--the head may be cut off, but still they wriggle on. Indeed, the loss of an idiosyncratic front personage worked wonders for the likes Pink Floyd, AC/DC and Ultravox, while promoting rank and file personnel to the central microphone didn't do Buzzcocks, Genesis or Joy Division any harm.

The latter, of course, had the decency to acknowledge that things had irrevocably changed after Ian Curtis's untimely passing, making it manifest that a New Order was in place. More commonly, however, fans are expected to swallow an often absurdly diminished version of a favourite act as if nothing had changed--hello Beach Boys, Dr. Feelgood etc...  Let's face it, no one but the hardiest of hardcore aficionados was really interested in a Paul Roberts-lead Stranglers or the Undertones helmed by Paul McLoone. Did anyone think Marillion only hit the heights when Steve Hogarth took the mic? Are memories of Michael Hutchence instantly banished the moment J.D. Fortune strides to the front of INXS's stage? Does Maxi Priest's UB40 sound like a triumphal renaissance waiting to happen? Not really.

If Jimmy Page and compadres insist on regrouping without Plant, perhaps they should consider a hirsute icon already renowned for investing their material with rejuvenating brio. I gather one Rolf Harris CBE may be at loose end.

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