Robert Plant on Black Dog: “My daughter’s boyfriend, who played in a psychobilly group, started telling me that one part of Black Dog was wrong because there’s a line in 5/4 in the middle of the other ones in 4/4. Well, this drove me crazy, so I took out the record, put it on my plate and said: “Listen, midget, this is not a mistake, this shows you what we were capable of! BLACK DOG’s main riff composition is by…

In a smoky bar, where shadows twist and sway,
A young man’s fingers pluck at strings,
Tales of restless hearts and restless nights,
His psychobilly pulse in sync with life’s wild flings.

Ripped denim, leather-clad, he commands the stage,
He screams of love lost, and ghosts that haunt,
Like echoes of laughter caught in the breeze,
His music a promise, a time-worn chant.

Oh, how the crowd rolls like thunderous waves,
A sea of sweat and reckless delight,
As he conjures the spirit of rock and rebellion,
With every riff, igniting the night.

The double bass thumps, a heartbeat so raw,
His voice, a tempest, a siren’s wail,
And in his eyes, a wild flame burns bright,
A flicker of danger, an untamed trail.

I see my daughter watching, her smile aglow,
Caught in the spell of his wild, reckless mirth,
In that moment, I remember the thrill of the chase,
The anxieties of youth, and love’s tender birth.

Yet underneath the bravado, a fragile thread,
Of dreams woven tightly with fear and despair,
For behind the tattoos and the leather embrace,
Lies a heartfelt whisper, a deep-seated care.

He sings of heartbreak, but his spirit stays free,
A jester in a journey through time and through space,
I see him through her eyes, a tapestry whole,
A patchwork of laughter, of sorrow, and grace.

Still, I wonder what storms lie in his past,
What sacrifices made behind that bright smile;
My daughter holds his heart, in her gentle hands,
While he rides on a current of rock and style.

So tonight, as the music roars like a beast,
I embrace the moment, let go of the worry,
For youth dances on, through the shadows they weave,
In the pulse of the rhythm, their spirits scurry.

And as they sway under the neon light glow,
I raise a toast to this wild, charming lad,
For in the chaos of life, amid laughter and pain,
He makes my daughter giggle, and oh, how she’s clad!

Let them dance in the night, through the sweet, wild refrain,
For love, like a melody, knows not of the fray;
In the world of psychobilly, where dreams intertwine,
I see the beauty in chaos, come what may.