There seems to sometimes be a running argument that Presence is this massively underrated and wrongfully maligned Led Zeppelin album, the one most suited for critical reevaluation and induction into the pantheon alongside the band’s other work. On one hand, this is true. In the grand scheme of ’70s albums, Presence probably is pretty underrated, hopelessly overshadowed by the band’s other achievements. And, in hindsight, we know that Zeppelin was close to burning out by 1976, where there would be new and exciting sounds rising up to dethrone this kind of expansive hard rock from the forefront of things. The album suffers most in relation, though, to their other work — it definitely belongs towards the bottom of their output. But lesser Zeppelin is, simply, still a lot better than a lot of other stuff that’s been released. So, Presence is still great at moments, it just sounds somewhat beaten down compared to the heights previously reached by the band.

Presence is a moment where all the mythology of Zeppelin might actually, for once, get in the way of interacting with the music (where in other places, it enhances it, makes it feel all the more powerful). This was the record that came after Plant’s traumatic car accident in Greece; he and Page wrote the bulk of it while Plant was still recovering in Malibu, and he was in a wheelchair throughout the recording sessions. It was also recorded and mixed in only eighteen days, which, sure, sounds really crazy and impressive if you churn out a classic in that time, but Presence feels somehow both rushed and over-stuffed. It, essentially, sounds exactly like it was speedily done in eighteen days and wasn’t given enough time to be thought over or tweaked or anything, really. Again, I feel the need to stress that most of these criticisms are only meant in the larger context of Zeppelin’s career; of course it’s impressive for a band to be in the studio for a little over two weeks and come out with something like “Achilles’ Last Stand” or “Nobody’s Fault Buy Mine,” let alone a whole album around those songs. Ultimately, though, you can hear that Plant was injured, and you can hear in general that the whole band might’ve been getting a bit ragged with the pretty constant clip of excess and touring they’d been living through since the late ’60s now. Presence is full of grooves and tons of guitar work and interesting rhythms. It should move, it should feel like a victorious bit of reinvigoration after Plant’s injuries. Instead, it sounds tired and bloated. As good as some of the songs still are — though it’s telling “Achilles’ Last Stand” and “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” were the only Presence songs the band played on their 1977 tour, or the only ones ever included on their greatest hits compilations — I can never shake the feeling that Presence feels cluttered, and inert compared to the band’s other work. It sounds like a band running out of road. That might make it one of the most interesting Led Zeppelin records, but it also makes it one of the worst.