It may not mean anything to you, but today is a very important day to any fan of heavy metal. On this day, forty years ago Black Sabbath released their debut album and with it, invented the genre itself.
Black Sabbath may not be metal’s finest hour and it’s arguably not even the band’s best moment. But when you’re considering groundbreaking achievements and you realize that everything before it were mere building blocks, then you certainly must admire the house that these four young men from Birmingham, England managed to create with Black Sabbath.
When you reside in a dead-end town, the reminders of your limitation become a daily occurrence. Thanks to The Beatles, Black Sabbath discovered that their one chance to escape might come with music. Unfortunately for them, they weren’t very talented and even less good looking. But the Beatles planted a seed of possibility, and that’s all they really needed to get things started.
So after tasting what their future would probably look like while working at local factories (except Ozzy, who would prove to be unemployable), the four young men got together to work out their frustrations of the day through music.
Unfortunately, their music was merely a weak attempt at the blues chords they picked up here and their. It was so pedestrian that people barely took notice.
Until bassist Geezer Butler noticed how the lines at the theatre got a little bit longer whenever they showed horror movies. What if they incorporated some of those very same spooky elements into their music? It was worth a shot and, luckily for the rest of the band, Geezer himself had an affection for black magic, movie monsters, and the dark forests of English mythology.
Also helping the band was a tragic accident involving guitarist Tony Iommi while he was working at the factory. He cut off the tips of two of his fingers, which caused him to approach the guitar a little bit differently. For the first two Sabbath albums, he used a lighter gauge strings to assist with his injury and then eventually began loosening the strings to a lower tuning, giving the guitar a menacing bite.
He remembered a chord progression that he’d heard in church one, applied it to his Gibson SG and created “the devil’s interval,” a musical tritone that they applied to their signature tune, “Black Sabbath.”
All of this talk of things that went bump in the night appealed to Ozzy, who suddenly began to find a muse in Geezer’s dark book collection. Meanwhile, drummer Bill Ward found all of this newfound inspiration as a great excuse to beat the shit out of his drum kit, hitting the skins like they were the skulls of every boss who belittled him, every teacher who said he’d amount to nothing, and every asshole in Birmingham who commented on his haphazard appearance.
I’m sure they didn’t even realize what they’d done after the album was released. Not only were the members of Black Sabbath not the smartest lads on the block, they were immediately met with critical disdain and a bit of dismissal from their own peers.
Lester Bangs strongly panned the effort, incorrectly associating the debut as a mediocre version of Cream. He’d later see the light-or darkness, as it were-but his review began a tradition of making fun of Black Sabbath’s perceived dimness and the fans that flocked in droves to bear witness. The fact is, Black Sabbath were probably awful students, but history has proven their instincts to be a much more worthy counterbalance to anyone with a higher education.
Black Sabbath is the first chapter in metal’s collegiate textbook. It was released on Friday the 13th in 1970 as a simpleton joke created by some “clever” record executive, but its vitality was clearly beyond the grasp of those who saw a quick buck when it was released. Forty years later, it still sounds heavy. More importantly, it still inspires. Not with just those who align themselves with metal’s dark aggression, but to anyone who dreams of escaping a dead end job, a limited town, or the elite oppressors who feel lineage prevents others from obtaining similar opportunities.
1 comment:
I play an SG because of Tony Iommi. And despite my tunes being way more Macca than Master of Reality, on occasion I will squeeze in a verse of "Black Sabbath" live. 'Cause I just gotta...
Nothing is heavier than this. People have had to seriously de-tune, play 7-string guitars, etc. in an attempt to emulate or surpass it, but the heaviness here is much more than sonic trappings: a vibe, a sense of darkness and foreboding still unequaled. All hail the mighty Sabbath! (The first four albums, anyway. heh heh)
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