Black Sabbath - Never Say Die!

Things had gotten so bad for Black Sabbath during Technical Ecstasy that the members of the band had decided to replace Ozzy with the singer of Savoy Brown.

Black Sabbath’s management (Sharon’s dad) suddenly realized “Who the fuck is Savoy Brown?” and, in an effort to save their famous client, pleaded to the band to call up Ozzy and reconcile.

While the band agreed, Osbourne proved to be just as unreliable as before, telling the band that he would resume his role in Black Sabbath while having nothing to do with any of the material they may have began with his replacement vocalist.

He also advised them that he had no material of his own to provide them.

The end result is the ironically titled Never Say Die! A hodgepodge collection of spliced together song bits, questionable new musical directions and a general malaise that seemed to take hold of every member that showed up to record the proceedings.

Generally dismissed by Sabbath fans, I revisited the album as the 2013 reunion tour’s imagery utilized much of the same visual concepts of this record, while completely avoiding any of Never Say Die’s material on stage.

Is it different than any other Sabbath record? Definitely. Was this difference a result of the band’s ambivalence towards their management’s demands to shit out another record? Absolutely.

But unlistenable? Hardly.

Never Say Die! Features a very compelling display of the band throwing ideas against the wall…any idea…just so they could get to the 40 minute mark and call it a day.

Further, the band found themselves booked in a Canadian studio in the dead of winter (cheaper rates) with a dead drum room and dead ambitions.

It eerily resembles the same decision that fictional group Spinal Tap undertook when lead guitarist Nigel Tuffnel left due to “creative differences.” Like the Tap’s foray into a new direction (“Jazz Trilogy”), Sabbath hired Don Airey to tinkle some ivories, let Iommi fart around with a few jazz chords and even did the unthinkable by tapping Wil Malone to help out with arranging a brass section for “Breakout.”

The new direction and panic makes for a record that is unlike anything else in the band’s catalog, to the point that drummer Bill Ward admits “All the songs are history now” on Never Say Die’s closing track, “Swinging The Chain.”

You read correctly, Bill Ward ends the proceedings with another track that Ozzy refused to sing.

It actually begins with a rollicking  title track that ranks as good as anything else in the band’s material, and there’s at least two other tracks that will satisfy most fans of Sabbath’s early material.

It’s the controversial mellow cuts like “Air Dance” and the other keyboard-laden titles like “Johnny Blade” that remain divisive among loyal headbangers-and these tracks do require an open mind.

For a record that sounds so tempestuous on paper and so schizophrenic on the playback head, Never Say Die! can be a fascinating glimpse into what Sabbath could have sounded like had they followed some of the new directions they tentatively touched upon.

This isn’t to suggest these would have been good directions, just different.

It has aged remarkably well and is, at least, on par with another dinosaur act that experienced a similar creative dry-sell: Led Zeppelin and their final offering In Through The Out Door.

Bill Ward seemed to foreshadow how the record would be received during his vocal take, declaring “We’re sorry that it ended that way” during “Swinging The Chain.” They may have not liked the end result-and the record’s follow-up with new vocalist Ronnie James Dio is unquestionably the best Sabbath album since the locomotive roll of the band’s first four releases.

But despite its obvious flaws and drama-filled back story, Never Say Die! is an overlooked example of how good Black Sabbath could be, even when they were on life support.

Black Sabbath - 13

It’s better than Technical Ecstasy and just as good as Never Say Die!, which begs the point, “Why?”

Indeed, why run the risk of ruining a perfectly fine legacy, particularly when those with a critical ear already know Black Sabbath only managed a pair of required records and a pair of really good ones that probably deserve space in your collection because of their nuanced differences.

Let’s face it, Sabbath was not a very consistent band and the power of their catalog is due to some pretty massive songs, not albums. So to wait over three decades to finally release a collection of new material with Ozzy is a pretty silly idea to begin with, especially when everyone only wants to hear your old stuff anyway.

What’s even stranger is how the band is using the Never Say Die! artwork, almost subliminally suggesting that the reunion tour is somehow just a logical extension of that final tour from ’78.

It almost defeats the purpose by suggesting that 13 is nothing more than a tour souvenir, made even more apparent since Ozzy’s wife/manager couldn’t do the right thing by settling with Bill Ward on what could have been an ideal situation to bring the legacy of Black Sabbath full circle.

The record does not suffer from Bill’s absence, at least musically. Studio drummer Brad Wilk goes nowhere near any rhythms that would have challenged Ward’s role as thronesmith. He provides a fairly pedestrian form of timekeeping, leaving guitarist Tony Iommi and bassist Geezer Butler the role of packing everything down with cement.

Butler also handles 13’s songwriting duties, making Ozzy’s entire role here as nothing more than showing up. Butler takes a hint from Dio’s playbook and pens a collection that’s only half as scary as what he and Iommi conjure up with their instruments.

“End Of The Beginning” is pretty massive, with a Beatlesque bridge that’s to die for (get it?) while lead-off single contains just enough clichés to make it annoying enough to enjoy.

There’s also enough blatant thievery of older Sabbath tracks to make you think you’ve mistakenly put on one of those aforementioned classics, while one of 13’s apparent issues is with its length. With only 8 songs and a total time of 53 minutes, 13 is still two songs too many, a late entry in the running time girth that plagued the compact disc.

It’s also plagued with Rick Rubin’s notorious penchant for brickwalling. The music is so compressed that any of his original claim to bring Sabbath back to their blues rock roots is a sham, just like Rubin’s pointless notion to end 13 with thunder and rain.

Sound effects don’t make a classic Sabbath record, but then again, was anyone even thinking that 13 would qualify as a classic Sabbath record? Of course not. Given all the drama with Bill and Tony’s health scare, I would think that most people were expecting an embarrassing display of Born Again proportions.

13 is not an embarrassing record. It is a heavy metal offering from a pair of elder statesmen and a frontman who has spent more time tarnishing his legacy than adding to it. From that perspective, it’s a record that helps Ozzy more than anyone, as Geezer and Tony were working wonders with Ronnie James Dio during the last years of his life.

They carried a lot of the same intent over to their new/old vocalist and give it as good as a shot as they can at this point in their careers.

So in that regard, 13 is another flawed yet worthy addition to their Ozzy-era catalog, just like it was at the band’s last end of the beginning.

Black Sabbath - Live In Tinley Park Illinois

Black Sabbath

Live at the First Midwest Bank Amphitheatre, Tinley Park, IL

August 16, 2013

It’s fitting that the images chosen for Black Sabbath’s 2013 reunion tour are the same ones used for the band’s last studio album with Ozzy Osbourne as the iconic frontman. The album was the disastrous Never Say Die!, and the musical content of that mistake from ’78 is wisely absent from the set list the band is working from now. (edited to reflect that I just re-listened to Never Say Die! and....kind of like it :)

The cover art is from the minds at the legendary art design group, Hipgnosis, and the title, of course, continues to apply to these elderly Englishmen, one of whom is conspicuously absent from the proceedings.

More on that later, but if the core creative trio from this Birmingham quartet are in place, then you have a reunion tour that doesn’t necessarily need to have an asterisk by the logo, particularly when it already has a © by it already, thanks to Ozzy’s wife.

If Sharon Osbourne’s tactics at presenting drummer Bill Ward with an offer that the 65 year-old percussionist could not live with are an indication of her strong negotiating skills, then consider who she has given the illustrious opening slot for this potentially final tour of these metal titans:

Andrew WK.

He doesn’t perform. He plays metal songs. Presumably from a turntable and providing no real historical relevance to the event or any remixes for the audience that had gathered. He does not he display any actual talents as a DJ. He just stands there, plays a song, and says “Get ready for the greatest heavy metal band in history” when his set time has expired.

Then, they remove his dj pedestal and play music for another 15 minutes until Sabbath finally comes on stage.

What. Is. The. Point.

The point is, Sharon Osbourne doesn’t have the passion of music inside of her, so she cannot squeeze the pocketbook open a little bit more to allow Bill Ward a spot behind the drum throne or to splurge for a legitimate opening band, preferably one with obvious ties to Sabbath’s influence.

I happen to think Soundgarden would be ideal for this gig.

Instead, she taps Andrew WK to go out, play a few records-like we wouldn’t have been doing already in the parking lot, if it weren’t for First Midwest Bank Amphitheatre’s security staff, who spend every moment before showtime herding up the stragglers trying to cop a buzz before getting reamed for $12 beers inside the venue.

If you’re keeping track, that price is up $3 from last summer.

This isn’t all about revenue. This is the potential to deliver to the most loyal fans in music a show that would resonate for generations. Instead, we get a fellow fan-essentially a lucky bastard with a fleeting recording career-with the enviable gig of getting to on stage and play records before a Black Sabbath show. There is no interaction between Andrew WK and the crowd. There is only music leading up to more pre-recorded music and a huge taste of disappointment to anyone who understands how epic this show could have been.

Leave it to the three Black Sabbath members who were present  to try and valiantly destroy the earthen mound off of First Midwest Bank Amphitheatre’s facilities. Perhaps the band wanted to give the large crowd a chance to remember nothing more than the destructive sludge of Sabbath’s might, which would suggest that the evening’s proceedings may have been the last opportunity Chicago would have to see this closet-thing-to-the-original-line-up-as-you’re going to see.

Ozzy has hinted that he’d like to do it all over again, this time with Bill coming, but that silly Prince of Darkness should know better than to speak without Sharon’s approval.

“Hello?” asked a familiar voice from the behind speakers and black curtain, hinting that the show was about to start. Ozzy blurted out a few more “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” gags. Suddenly, red lights began flashing and air sirens announced the arrival of “War Pigs,” as massive as any anti-war song Bob Dylan penned, with half as many verses.

For the next two hours, Black Sabbath delivered a set that was as heavy as anything walking the planet at the moment, and as uplifting as any arena show should be. The band pulled three tracks from their latest 13, which is down from the 4 songs they began the tour with and still probably 1 song too many. If it were me, I would leave the opener “End Of The Beginning” on the merits of its title and subject matter, and “God Is Dead” since it seemed to keep the fan’s interest.

You always begin to consider what songs they would have left on the list if it wasn’t taken up by a new track, and I don’t quite understand why “Sweet Leaf” was excluded, particularly since the band included a “Sweet Leaf” t-shirt at the merch table ($45).

It’s obvious that Ozzy no longer has the ability to hit the notes necessary to make tracks like “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” a contender for consideration, but what they did include was an impressive mixture of deep album tracks for fans (“Into The Void,” “Under The Sun/Everything Comes And Goes,” “Behind The Wall Of Sleep”) and selections that confirm the band’s undeniable catalog of Metal 101 (“Black Sabbath,” “Iron Man,” “Fairies Wear Boots”).

It says, "Repeat chorus two times."

It’s also obvious that Ozzy has been reduced to a caricature of his former self, mindlessly yelling things like “Make some fucking noise, you fuckers!” and “I can’t fucking hear you!” over and over, at least with twice the frequency that he’s done in year’s past.

He also continues to do battle with his monitors, occasionally giving stern looks off stage when trouble arises while seeming to be oblivious to his own issues of being able to hit the correct notes during “Dirty Women.” Never mind the fact that he also requires the use of a teleprompter to recall the same lyrics he’s been singing for four decades now.

Touring drummer Tommy Clufetos is no Bill Ward, but then again, I’m confident that Ward could not match the power of Clufetos’ performance on Friday night. This isn’t to suggest that Clufetos is a better drummer than Ward (especially when Bill was in his prime), but he is definitely a drummer who recognizes that he only needs to give Iommi exclamation points and not layer his fills over an already perfect riff.

I did not see the band this man hit his kit with anything less than a shoulder-high down stroke for the entire set. With every crack of his drums he played like he was personally nailing shut Bill Ward’s doors and windows so he wouldn’t be able to come back to the band, even he wanted to. His solo stuck out like an obvious relief moment for the rest of the band, as they quickly exited the stage after a quick “Rat Salad” to freshen up, hydrate, and probably in the case of Osbourne, receive oxygen.

Raise your fist and yell!...Oops, wrong tour.

It was an impressive solo, if not about 8 minutes too long. The band may have needed that extra few minutes, but the drum solo rule of “No more than 10 minutes in length if you’re not named Neil Peart or performing for a drum clinic” needed to be followed, even if Clufetos performed at a level higher than most rock drummers could achieve.

Leave it to bassist Geezer Butler and the Grandfather of all metal riffs, Tony Iommi, to deliver enough girth to the proceedings to qualify the tour as a must-see event.  Iommi looks great, and more importantly, played with impeccable precision. Smiles came often from his side of the stage, and the band has clearly given him free reign to embellish on his solos, pushing the length of each song to an average of six or seven minutes in length. There are no complaints about this either as nearly everyone in attendance found themselves nodding their heads in unison with Iommi’s massive rhythms.

Smile! We've gone 36 months without suing each other!

Butler, the man responsible for much of the words scrolling across Osbourne’s monitors, also contributed to an endless array of finger-plucking that safely secured the band’s low end. Geezer has all but admitted that the real “geezer” is the fact that he may not be able to play like this for much longer, while his work on Friday evening suggests that he continues to deliver a relentless growl. He is an underappreciated bassist that only seems to be recognized as an other-worldly player because of his encroaching age. The reality is that Geezer has been a master for quite some time now, it’s just taken a few decades for that fact to sink in among the uninitiated.

With everything that could go with this tour and for as much unnecessary drama the backstory provides, Black Sabbath appears to be providing a legitimate glimpse into why this band is so vital to our musical landscape. Except for the temp-status skinsman Clufetos (kudos to him for attempting to channel the “caveman” era Bill Ward look), the median age for these veterans is sixty-five fucking years old. There is no way a band that old can still sound this heavy.

They were so good that Ozzy could have come out on stage and nodded off to a Xanax and Merlo-induced coma and this still would have been a wonder of awesomeness.

The fact that Ozzy delivered a show with merely a modicum of professionalism means that Black Sabbath’s performance at the F.D.I.C. insured venue on Friday night was a required rite-of-passage for anyone claiming loyalty to rock and roll music.

Ozzy Admits: Tastes Like Chicken!

One of the most metal moments in rock history occurred thirty years ago in my home state of Iowa.

Tonight is the night that Ozzy Osbourne tasted a bat, which means that early in the morning of January 21st, he also enjoyed a series of rabies shots that I hear are very painful.

You don’t know how proud I am that someone in Iowa metal community felt the need to find a dead bat and think, “You know who’d like this? Ozzy Osbourne!” The reaction was so strong that this person placed a rotting rodent in their pocket and brought it to Osbourne’s concert in Des Moines, throwing the dead animal on stage at some point during the performance.

From there, Ozzy noticed it and thought-in either a moment of comedic intent or in some kind of drunken prank-that he needed to place it in his mouth to try to rip the head off it.

He claims he thought it was a rubber, toy bat. But having fielded a few bats that have entered into houses that I’ve lived in, I can say with familiarity that a toy rubber bat looks and feels nothing like a real one, dead or alive and squeaking.

I’m going to chalk a big part of Ozzy’s choice to the booze.

Whatever the case, it pleases me to no end that all of this transpired in the Hawkeye state 30 years ago tonight!

These Go To Eleven: Black Sabbath Reunites!

Your dreams have been fulfilled:



I could care less about the new album, and even those who claim they're excited probably won't listen to it at all after 2012.

I'm not suggesting that it won't be any good-The Devil You Knowproved to me that the musical dynamic of Sabbath can be heavier than anything Iommi and Geezer Butler have done since the original Sab-but there's nothing that they can produce that will get people reaching for it more than Paranoid or Masters.

But there is a good chance.

1.) The Sharon Factor-If there's one thing...one person that could fuck this thing up more than anything, it's Sharon Osbourne. There could be issues with money. Just suppose she's concocted a lame deal for anyone other than Ozzy-which is highly probable-and one of the other members decide at the last moment that they don't particularly like the manner in which Ozzy is getting larger sums of cash. Like I said: I'm betting that this is already taking place, but whatever "crumbs" they are doling out to the rest of the band is head and shoulders more than what they've ever made before. The other concern with Sharon is how she's going to impact the song selection, the commercialization of the new album, the interaction between members...I mean, this could all go terribly wrong if she doesn't allow Ozzy to cohabitate with his old bandmates somewhat. If it's separate buses, separate dressing rooms, and separate riders, then this will feel less like a reunion and more like a money grab on the most superficial level. Fear Mrs. Osbourne because she could give two shits about how great Black Sabbath could be musically, she only cares about how great Black Sabbath could be to her purse.

2.) Ozzy-Even on the television show, he looked frighteningly fragile. There's a feeling that his rebellion is now limited to photo shoots and studio trickery. My wife likes to tell the story of how he would shuffle around the stage when she last saw him live...and that was 10 years ago. If there's anything left from a live performance standpoint, let me know-seriously-because the idea of Ozzy shuffling around like a grandfather who's Rascal scooter is in the shop while barking through "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" scares me more than the Speak Of The Devil version of "Iron Man." Is his vocal range gone? Because the last time I heard Ozzy was through the aid of some studio tricks, not to mention that I could barely understand him whenever he spoke.

3.) Bill Ward-I've spoken about this before, so I won't go into too much detail about Bill's health. But let's be honest, Bill was a madman during those early years, the ones where you saw this bearded wild man on the drum riser, beating the shit out of his instrument and thundering out a slow 4/4 rhythm for Tony to crunch craniums to. I hope he's working out. Not from a relationship perspective, but from a treadmill one.

4.) Rick Rubin-I do believe that there was a time when the name Rick Rubin on the album credits meant something. I also believe that he started to believe that himself. The reality is that Rick Rubin has not had the best track record post-2000, and some of his executive "producer" roles have been nothing more than that of an editor and sequencer. He may be able to pick the best songs, but I'm not entirely convinced that he's able to get the best performance. For the Sabbath reunion, he Tweeted "When I've sat with them and they've played it sounds remarkably like Black Sabbath. As long as it sounds like that." No shit, Sherlock. Who else would they sound like?

5.) The New Album-What if it does suck? What if Rubin gets vetoed by Sharon and we get an hour-long album that rivals the shittiness of Never Say Die!. What if their songwriting skills haven't improved after 33 years? One of the things that I enjoyed most about Dio reuniting with Sabbath was how Ronnie brought some really great songs to the table for the ocassion. What if Ozzy can't do that or what if he's too lazy to? Personally, I don't think they can get any worse from Never Say Die!, but there's not a chance it will be better than Sabbath Bloody Sabbath which wasn't that good to begin with.

The fact that there's at least five points of worry with this whole thing, I need to come clean an admit that none of it will be enough to get me NOT to consider getting tickets to a show. This band is the big bang of heavy fucking metal, and the decision to announce this reunion on 11.11.11 is a bit demeaning to the genre as a whole. I mean, I get it, it's cute and I'm all about watching Spinal Tap for the millionth time (I will, later on tonight, rest assured). But to use Nigel Tufnel's "one louder" reference as the backdrop for this announcement that I've been waiting in anticipation for years shows me that they're not taking the genre that they built the foundation for, all that serious.

Here's a clip from their first reunion over 10 years ago. Check out how awesome Geezer is! Check out that awesome solo Tony gives! Check out how Bill looks like he's having a heart-attack on his close up shot towards the end! And more importantly, check out how many chicks lift up their shirts!

Ozzy Osbourne - Scream

What happened? At one point, he was an adorable, self-proclaimed “Prince of Darkness” shuffling around his home for public consumption, releasing forgettable solo albums that took the bite out of any horrorshow he conjured up in earlier days. The next, he’s a puppet to his wife’s celebrity and a slave to her authority, shuffling around in a goddamn variety show while firing longtime guitarist Zakk Wylde, giving him the pink slip during an interview on a radio show.

Scream is Ozzy’s 10th album and the first with thirty-year old guitarist, Gus G. It has a thoroughly modern sound with lots of compression and heavily processed vocals that usually find Osbourne yelling some anthemic phrase like “Scream!” or “I’m Fearless!” or “Let It Die!” or “Soul Sucka!”

In fact, the album was almost named “Soul Sucka” before fans provided enough feedback to Ozzy….er, Sharon…that an Ozzy album with the title of Soul Sucka would be just as prophetic as a Black Sabbath album named Never Say Die!

There’s also a few mid-tempo tracks with positive messages to ensure they are played on rock radio next to the latest Nickleback songs.

Of course it sucks, and of course I’m bitter that the people holding Ozzy’s strings right now are dismantling his legacy piece by piece, making him as irrelevant as Kiss and Alice Cooper. What’s more frustrating is that the slow decline is logging a few decades now, but the descent is seemingly in freefall with Scream, a patchwork of technology and provocative one-liners.

“How will I know you, Mr. Jesus Christ?” he asks on “Diggin’ Me Down,” “Have you already been here once or twice,” seemingly referring to Christ’s visit to the Native Americans. Yes, Osbourne’s barrage of attacks against Christianity is so worn now that he is setting his sights on the Book of Mormon.

Thirty-year-old guitar wunderkind Gus G. provides Scream with plenty of bite and screaming whammy bar dives, but he provides no real identity to what kind of guitarist he is. Not that I’m a Zakk Wylde fan as the redundant guitarist was present for Osbourne’s previous low points, but at least he developed a persona that fans could attach to and associate with. There are also reports that the album-including the guitar parts-were already in place before Gus G. signed his contract with Ozzy Osbourne LLC. Even so, I’ll bet the thirty-year old guitarist already has a signature series guitar for sale from whatever company he’s using.

All of this talk about guitarists may mean nothing to the average Ozzy fan, but it should, as his entire career is dependant on the strength of what guitar player he’s working with. On Scream, he’s working with a very capable axeman who no one would be able to identify without the help of the liner notes.

The bulk of Scream’s failure has nothing to do with his guitarist, however, and everything to do with the man himself and producer Kevin Churko, whose fingerprints are all over this release that it will be impossible for Ozzy to re-create these songs live without the aid of an IT department.

One good thing that I can say about Scream is that it is the most consistent album he’s done in twenty years. Even though the material is an embarrassing attempt at gaining favor with the active rock outlets, it plays like a straight line in consistency with none of the songs jumping out for inclusion in a “classic Ozzy” playlist.

The other positive thing about Scream?

This one wasn’t produced by Timbaland.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

Zakk Wylde Cancels Iowa Show After Run In With Local Tall Boys

I hope to God that Sharon Osbourne wasn't right about Zakk Wylde. It's been hinted that she dismissed Zakk from Ozzy's band because he was too much in love with the bottle to be a very productive member.

Which is hilarious when you consider how unproductive Ozzy has been throughout his entire career.

Never mind the on-going bitterness that Ozzy has against Black Sabbath for suggesting that he was too loaded to continue fronting them.

And what did they do?

Fire him.

Zakk certainly hasn't delivered his Blizzard Of Oz yet and it doesn't look like he's those of us firmly entrenched with anti-Sharon feelings.

UPDATE! It has nothing to do with the drink, apparently, and everything to do with blood clots. So unless this ailment is code for "The Shakes," there doesn't seem to be any concern for Wylde's liver.

(New York, NY) - Black Label Society was forced to cancel a scheduled tour stop on the Black Label Berzerkus tour last night at the Anchor Inn in Omaha, Nebraska due to frontman Zakk Wylde's health. Tonight's appearance in Clive, Iowa at the 7 Flags Event Center has also been cancelled. Wylde was admitted to a hospital in Nebraska late yesterday afternoon and was diagnosed with a blood clotting condition in his leg. Wylde first suffered from blood clots in August, 2009. As of now, the Black Label Berzerkus is set to continue in Milwaukee, Wisconsin at the Eagles Ballroom this Saturday, October 2nd.BLS apologizes to ticket holders of last night's and tonight's shows. Every effort will be made to reschedule the missed tour dates. Ticket holders can hold on to their tickets or tickets can be refunded at the place of purchase. Meet & greet package refunds will be processed promptly. Further updates on Wylde's medical condition will be made available as they become known. For more information, please visit: www.blacklabelsociety.com and www.zakkwylde.com.

Classical Vocal Instructor Analyzes Five Metal Singers

The list doesn't surprise me much and it explains why I am a fan of most of the singers that she has good things to say about.

The "she" is question is Claudia Friedlander, a New York City vocal teacher who specializes in opera. Her opinions were solicited from Invisible Oranges a few months ago, a summary of which appears below.

The two vocalists she seems most enthralled with are Ronnie James Dio and Bruce Dickenson.

Of Dickenson: "There is a visceral dramatic intensity driving this singing. Many rock and metal singers are tenors who sustain much higher, much longer than operatic tenors are ever required to." and for Dio, she compares him to Queen's Freddie Mercury, stating "This is another very fine singer. His voice is so naturally resonant...Like the first singer, he performs with perfect legato, clear diction, and a consistent, organic vibrancy."

She offered praise for Rob Halford, but admitted he was "the only one I really wish I could get my hands on. He demonstrates several mad skills, but they aren’t well-integrated. It doesn’t matter so much because he is so committed, expressive, and musical, but I could have helped him do it easier and better."

Ha! The metal god needs a vocal instructor!

Actually, the vocal part she listened to is from Sad Wings Of Destiny, probably Priest's best album, but one that was recorded very early in their career.

I'm sure Halford has been through a few vocal coaches since then when money was hard to come by for food, let alone vocal instructors.

But she offers a bit of hesitation for King Diamond, one of metal's premier screamers, suggesting that some of his technique benefits from studio trickery.

And then there's Ozzy Osbourne, a vocalist she's not familiar with and not a fan of. She exclaims how it made her throat tight when she listened to "War Pigs." "The entire range of his singing is contained within a single octave," she observed, "with the exception of the moment when he yells “Oh Lord!” a little higher, in my opinion the only quasi-free vocal sound on the entire track."

While technically misguided, "War Pigs" is pure, throaty brilliance.

I would have loved to hear her take on "Changes."

A nod to Cousin J for the lead and Invisible Oranges for the article quotes.

The Birth Of Heavy Metal

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.

Ozzy Circa '82

At first, I didn’t believe it, but I believe everything that’s posted on I’m Gonna Blog A Little Bit Over Here. Apparently, Ozzy Osbourne…scratch that, Sharon Osbourne…is trudging out the family again for another season of The Osbournes.
Now before you think that it’s all about the old reality TV of old-you know, the one where Ozzy trots around like a brain damaged grandpa and Sharon tries to make him go on tour again to fund her insatiable lust for shit-please understand that his wife is all about keeping the Osbourne name relevant.
It’s a fucking variety show!
Yessir, just like those variety shows from the 70’s except with more profanity and a pair of spoiled twenty-somethings that’ve never worked a day in their life and never even bothered to graduate high school. And just like those variety shows from the 70’s, this one looks to be just as unfunny.
I used to like Ozzy-the wife still does in fact-but even she agrees that the preview for the new Osbournes show verges on being unwatchable. I’ll even admit to liking that first season of the Osbournes when it still had the element of reality to it.
But then it became obvious that Sharon liked her newfound celebrity and the extra paychecks that came with it. It was enough to make me long for the Ozzy of old. The one where he appeared, glossy eyed at interviews extolling the virtues of being drug free, the hardships of managing John Osbourne and Ozzy Osbourne, and the appeal of Adolf Hitler.

Jake E. Lee Live At Guitar Center

Thanks to YouTube and the watchful eye of a GloNo regular, some ingenious dude has matched guitar heros with recording of awful soloing. Masterfully dubbed, may I suggest the triple-neck work of Steve Vai? The Eddie Van Halen is delightful! But for my money, the Jake E. Lee performance (and Ozzy's lone clapping above a recording of an indifferent audience) is my personal favorite.