There’s no replacing anyone in Led Zeppelin—period. From the moment they stepped on stage, they weren’t just a band; they were the blueprint of the ultimate supergroup. Every post-Bonham appearance was less a revival and more a tribute, a one-night-only invocation of thunder and myth. But for John Paul Jones, there was still some room left to explore—just not as Led Zeppelin.
Robert Plant has always been the immovable object standing in the way of a full-blown reunion. And who could blame him? His voice was the band’s spiritual core. Without him, Zeppelin’s magic would flicker and fade fast. Plant knows it, too. That’s why he’s spent his later years diving into folk and world music, leaving behind the banshee wail that once shook the gods.
Jones, on the other hand, never stopped chasing sound. While Plant and Page occasionally teamed up without him, Jones stayed busy with projects like Them Crooked Vultures. But when he did link back up with Page, they started sniffing around for a new voice—not a Plant impersonator, but someone who could bring fresh fire to the furnace.
Steven Tyler stepped into the room. For a moment, it looked like Aerosmith’s frontman might join forces with the legends he once idolized. But even with his larger-than-life energy, Tyler couldn’t be the guy. He was too familiar, too rooted in his own mythology. What Jones wanted was someone different. Someone hungry.
Then came Myles Kennedy.
The Alter Bridge and Slash vocalist didn’t show up trying to fill anyone’s shoes. He walked in, opened his mouth, and let the room catch fire. His voice had the range, the grit, and—most importantly—the originality. Jones was intrigued: “He’s got the range, but his voice is completely different than Robert’s. Which was fine by me, because it was going to be a completely different band.”
It could’ve worked. Kennedy was already used to navigating complex riffs and weird time signatures with Alter Bridge. He wasn’t just a high-note guy—he was a worker. And when it came to channeling raw energy, he’d already done justice to Axl Rose more than once.
But ultimately, the stars didn’t align. The idea dissolved quietly. No epic debut. No Zep 2.0. Just another near-miss filed away in the vaults of rock mythology.
Had it happened, it might’ve made some noise. But one thing’s for sure—no matter how good Kennedy is, covering Zeppelin’s sacred canon would’ve been a dangerous game. Especially if they dared touch Kashmir. Some songs aren’t meant to be sung by anyone else.
