Refueled & Reborn

It's as daunting a rock & roll sight as I've seen — or heard. Robert Plant and Jimmy Page, supported by a taut, aggressive, young band, are blasting Led Zeppelin songs in a tiny rehearsal space above the Kings Head Pub on Fulham High Street, in London.

Plant, Page, guitarist Porl Thompson, bassist Charlie Jones and drummer Michael Lee stand poised in a close circle. Then Page rips into the electric-guitar riff of "Bring It On Home," from Led Zeppelin II, and the band is off and running, swinging through that number and then leaning into "Celebration Day." When the playing stops, it feels as if an aerial bombardment has ended.

The group is rehearsing for a yearlong world tour that is set to begin in the United States in late February in support of No Quarter: Jimmy Page and Robert Plant Unledded. While Page smokes a cigarette and runs through some changes with Thompson, Plant reaches into the black bag at his feet, pulls out a bottle of hot sauce, takes a swig and chases it with water. Setting the bottle down beside his copy of V.S. Naipaul's Among the Believers: An Islamic Journey, Plant steps up to the mike to loosen up his voice, which is a bit raw from rehearsals and from the revels of two nights before, when he and Page went to hear rhythm & blues singer Ruth Brown at the London nightclub Ronnie Scott's.

"Ooooo?ahhhh, I can't quit you, babe," Plant belts out, his keening voice soaring over the cramped room as everyone else continues about their business, not even bothering to turn. Then Page calls for another run-through of "Bring It On Home." Powered by the rhythm section, Page begins to move, lunging his upper body forward, looking at Plant, whose hands are clutching the microphone, his hips twitching in time.