You could have seen them at the Apollo...

They're a peculiar lot, tribute bands. You may not realise, but they work in a very insular market, full of petty jealousies, spite and backbiting. OK, so the regular circuit ain't exactly genial, but there's at least room to exist without treading on someone else's toes. Whereas other bands are artists, tribute bands are forgers and use their talents not to create their own beautiful things, but for mimicry and fakery. Some copies will be better than others depending on the skill of those involved, but as the ultimate aim with most tribute bands is to flawlessly clone rather that create, the most any such band can hope for is to produce excellent reproductions rather than works of art. As such, the bands fight like dogs over scraps for the attention of that small sector of the public who pay to witness things that are part homage and part parody, desperate to convince this blinkered world of crusties and anoraks that only their band offers the truest, most authentic facsimile they could wish for. It's a bit sad really, as it could be argued that unless the intention is to create a perverse caricature (Hayseed Dixie, Dread Zeppelin, etc), tribute bands are the only musical venture where individuality and creativity can hinder rather than enhance matters. See? I told you they were peculiar.

The thing about Led Zep Too is that in a world where some of their fellow tribute acts have been doing it for longer than Zeppelin did themselves, they've achieved in a very short time an imitation that's so faithful, so accurate and so passionate, that they make the likes of Led By Zeppelin and Whole Lotta Led seem redundant and trampled underfoot. Sure, at least half of the Zep tributes out there also aim to recreate the live arrangements instead of the studio tracks, but a more musically authentic, intense, and insanely loud version you'll not find anywhere. Why? Because Led Zep Too have captured the very essence of Led Zeppelin, adding an absolutely identifiable magic to the mix, and that's not learnable; it either exists or it doesn't. Have those other pretenders had paranoid officials remove their Myspace tracks no less than 5 times because they think they really are Zeppelin live recordings? Didn't think so, and accordingly, Led Zep Too couldn't wish for a better accolade. Literally, you close your eyes, listen, and the differences between them are so negligible as to not exist.

The drum intro to "Rock and Roll" gives way to that bassy Les Paul-through-a-Marshall grunting riff courtesy of Mike Jarvis (oh alright then - Jimmy) and for more than just a moment, it's the 70's again. He might be crammed between that massive drumkit and the monitors with barely enough room to squeeze his lemon, but you can really believe that it's a young Robert Plant up there, screaming like a man with his testicles nailed to the floor, because Ollie doesn't just sound identical with that semi-orgasmic wail, he's got the shaggy blond curls, the tight denim, the obscenely large frontal bulge and the camp gesticulations absolutely perfect, right down to that peculiar way that ol' Percy could never properly thrust his hips in time to the music, like an unruly sex beast who doesn't quite know what to do with himself when he's not shagging. Occasionally, (such as during the high notes of "Immigrant Song" ) his voice wavers slightly wimpishly, usually when attempting one of those 'just-about-to-cum' yelps which instead of a horny wolf sounds more like a squashed kitten, but sod it, I've seen Plant himself try to do that in recent years and believe me he's f*****g rubbish.

By the time we hit "Heartbreaker", the raw emotive power produced by this band is almost otherworldly. Heavier than a juggernaut up the jacksie and utterly self-indulgent, Mike Jarvis expertly recreates Page's wilder excesses in a squealing headbanging flurry of feedback, sweat and dandruff as they jam and explore it with wild abandon, letting it whirl and glide into rhythmic crashing chaos that threatens to punch f*****g great big holes in your eardrums, before a surprisingly gentle "Thank You" soothes them again.

An epic "Dazed & Confused" precedes an additionally extended "No Quarter". ‘Jimmy' straps on his twin-necked SG for the obligatory "Stairway To Heaven" followed by a searing "Kashmir", but peculiarly, it's the surprising inclusion of "Achilles Last Stand" (which at over 10 minutes, is the second longest Zep studio track ) that gets the most enthusiastic response from the small but appreciative crowd before the wild blues abandonment of "Whole Lotta Love", which they don't so much play as wrestle; flailing the tune like a whip, letting it swell into a throbbing cacophony of theramin squeals, bloodied drums, tortured guitar and best-shag-of-your-life screams.

They're the best Zep tribute by a mile.

Mr Mills is a former Kerrang journalist, now freelance and writes mostly for holytoilet.com and the official Glastonbury site glastonburyfestivals.co.uk

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