Robert Plant was famously obsessed with a girl. Well, several girls, but one specifically inspired the psychedelic, bluesy masterpiece What Is and What Should Never Be. It’s the second track on Led Zeppelin II, the album that basically defined hard rock for the next fifty years. Most people just hear the heavy riffs and the whispering vocals. They don’t realize they’re listening to a literal travelogue of a secret romance.
It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s kind of heartbreaking if you think about it too long.
When the band hit Olympic Studios in 1969, they weren't just making a record; they were inventing a new language for the guitar. Jimmy Page was experimenting with distance miking and panning that makes the song feel like it’s swirling around your brain. If you listen with headphones, you can feel the sound physically moving. That wasn’t an accident. Page wanted to capture the feeling of a transition—of being in one state of mind and suddenly, violently, being shoved into another.
The Secret Romance Behind the Lyrics
The song is deeply personal to Plant. Honestly, most of his early lyrics were just Tolkien references or blues rip-offs, but this one was different. He was writing about a relationship he had with his wife’s sister. Yeah. It’s that complicated. The "catch a wind to Africa" line isn't just a hippie dream. It was a literal desire to escape the social pressures and the "what should never be" part of the title.
It’s about the tension of a reality that can’t exist in the light of day.
You hear it in the dynamics. The verses are quiet, almost voyeuristic. Plant is practically breathing into the microphone, telling you a secret. Then, the chorus hits. It’s a wall of sound. John Bonham’s drumming here is legendary for a reason. He isn't just keeping time; he’s punctuating the emotional outburst of the lyrics. It’s the sonic equivalent of a door being kicked down.
Why the Production Changed Everything
Jimmy Page is a nerd for acoustics. He didn't just want a loud guitar; he wanted a textured guitar. On What Is and What Should Never Be, he used a Harmony Sovereign H1260 acoustic for some of the layering, but the real magic is the electric slide.
He used a Vox Phantom XII 12-string on some parts of the album, but for this track, it’s all about that fluid, weeping slide work.
- He used a technique called "reverse echo" on some tracks during these sessions, though here it’s more about the stereo panning.
- The bass line by John Paul Jones is actually what holds the whole thing together.
- Without that jazz-influenced walking bass, the song would just be a messy blues jam.
The stereo switching in the outro is arguably the most famous part of the engineering. Engineering-wise, it was a nightmare to get right on the consoles they had in the late 60s. They were basically flying blind, turning knobs in real-time to move the vocal track from the left speaker to the right. It creates a dizzying effect that mirrors the lyrics' sense of instability.
The Live Evolution
If you’ve ever seen the How the West Was Won recordings or the BBC Sessions, you know the studio version is just a blueprint. Live, the song became a beast.
Led Zeppelin played it at almost every show between 1969 and 1972. It was the perfect mid-set "breather" that wasn't actually a breather because the ending was so heavy. Plant would often change the lyrics on the fly, adding bits of "the lemon song" or just screaming until his voice cracked. It showed the band's vulnerability. They weren't just a heavy metal machine; they were a group of guys who really liked the nuances of dynamics.
Interestingly, they stopped playing it regularly after 1972. Why? Probably because the setlists got longer and they started leaning into the epic, 20-minute versions of "Dazed and Confused." Or maybe because the song's emotional weight became too much of a relic from a specific, chaotic moment in Plant's life.
Common Misconceptions About the Song
People often think this is a drug song. It’s easy to see why. The 1969 vibe, the swirling vocals, the talk of "rainbows." But if you look at the timeline of the band, they weren't into the heavy stuff yet. This was still the era of tea, beer, and high-energy blues. It’s a love song. A forbidden one.
Another mistake: thinking Jimmy Page used a Les Paul for every single track.
While the "Burst" is his signature, his studio work was a laboratory. He used whatever tool fit the frequency he was trying to fill. The clarity of the clean tones in the verse of What Is and What Should Never Be sounds much more like a Telecaster or a high-headroom small amp than a cranked-up stack. It’s that "light and shade" philosophy Page always talked about.
The Legacy in Modern Rock
You can hear this song's DNA in everything from Jack White to Queens of the Stone Age. That specific "quiet-loud-quiet" formula? Nirvana didn't invent that. Zeppelin was doing it decades earlier, and this track is the gold standard.
It taught a generation of producers that you don't have to stay at 10 for the whole song to be powerful. Sometimes, the most "heavy" thing you can do is whisper right before you scream. It’s the contrast that creates the power.
How to Truly Appreciate the Track Today
Don’t listen to this on your phone speakers. Seriously. You’re missing 60% of what’s happening.
- Find a vinyl copy: If you can get an original Atlantic pressing or even the 2014 remasters, do it. The analog warmth makes the slide guitar sound like it’s in the room with you.
- Focus on the drums: Listen to how Bonham hits the snare in the chorus. It’s not just a beat; it’s a physical presence.
- Trace the lyrics: Read along with the words while listening to the BBC Sessions version. The raw energy makes the story of the "hidden" romance feel much more urgent.
What Is and What Should Never Be remains a masterclass in tension. It’s a song that refuses to sit still, jumping from a dreamy lounge act to a proto-metal breakdown in seconds. It captures a band at the exact moment they realized they could do anything they wanted. And they did.
To get the most out of your listening experience, compare the studio version directly with the July 1971 BBC version. You’ll hear a band that has completely mastered their instruments, turning a three-minute pop-structured song into a sprawling, psychedelic exploration of regret and desire. Pay attention to the way the bass interacts with the kick drum during the "and if I say to you tomorrow" sections; it’s one of the tightest pockets in rock history. Once you hear that synchronization, you’ll never listen to modern rock production the same way again.