I cannot claim to be an unwavering, lifelong fan of Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne – not like those thousands and thousands paying their heartfelt and endearing eulogies on his passing yesterday – but I can claim to have a lifelong love of Back Sabatth’s debut album (my review to follow) and a lifelong awareness and love of the phenomenal impact/influence on heavy music the band and Ozzy undeniably had and will continue to have since their beginnings.
I am listening to Ozzy’s 2022 album Patient Number 9 as I write this – blasting it out – and am loving every second. Not just via the obvious nostalgia one day after his death, but for its perfect encapsulation of the Black Sabbath sound, Degradation Rules with signature harmonica a la their first album blaring out at this exact moment.
The following are whole pieces and extracts of various observations on Black Sabbath as band and Ozzy Osbourne as an individual from my music blog Some Diurnal Aural Awe. I’m posting because I have gone back to read for the pleasure of being reminded. In doing so, I am loudly revisiting so much of what I have written about, and I mean listening to the music reviewed at that time. I am also revising ‘Ozzie’ to Ozzy from now on…
25.2.12
Black Sabbath – Black Sabbath (1970)
Rain, tolling bell, thunder, drawl of a heavy riff, and slow bleak questions before the apocalypse strikes its shocked response Oh No, Black Sabbath announces Black Sabbath, and the demons, wizards and devils therein are dark procreative forces announcing a new genre through this Satanic birthyell, or the viviparous voice that is Heavy Metal God Ozzie Osbourne.
Raw as a pig’s hide kicked by a mad farmer’s boot in the wild black of night, the relentless ramrod riffs and largely monosyllabic lyrics pound out again and again the most sublime new testament of Rock. By the time we get to N.I.B. – 40 seconds in to be precise –
DAA DAA DAA DAA DAA DAA DAA DAA DAA DAA
the most memorably malevolent iambic pentameter in Rock is fully realised: OH YEAH!
Diablo Tony Iommi lays down his own straightforward but powerful incantations in dark worship at the altar of Blue Cheer, and Fiend Geezer Butler provides roars from other visiting daemons carried on the rumbling rolls of Beast Bill Ward.
I bought this album not really knowing who or what it was – but drawn by the cover – somewhere on a market stall in London. I played it for the first time, as memory serves, at the house of a female student friend and other likeminded 5th year musical vampires where we sucked its fresh blood with relish. I do believe there was a collective and spontaneous headbang, but reality and myth merge after all these years.
I do know that its dark drones merged with simple melodic lines still thrills today. I might be wrong, but it seems to me that Paranoid has more acclaim, and War Pigs is the common choice for a fans’ anthem, but this debut raw assault on the senses has left its permanent mark on my musical hide and long listening ride.
3.6.13
God is Dead? – Nietzsche and PR
I’m looking forward to the release of the new Black Sabbath album next week. Of course I am. How can you not want to hear another work from the founders of metal?
Planet Rock has been giving considerable airplay to the single God Is Dead? It is wonderful. It is also ludicrous. It is wonderful in the way that it so clearly re-presents the Sabbath sound – those neanderthal slow riffs and the guitar breaks that do just enough to be heavy. Then there’s Ozzie’s distinctive vocal. But it is ludicrous too in the way it seems to be aping that original sound. Ozzie’s vocals in particular seem to have an obvious disconnect with the rest of the music, presumably an add-on in the studio, perhaps like all the other parts, and perhaps like many other bands and their recordings. Maybe I’m wrong, but this certainly doesn’t sound like a live – and energised by that immediacy – performance. The polish undermines what ought to be Ozzie’s raw emotion. And as for asking ‘Is god really dead?’ Why the fuck should the hard man of rock give a toss. The dark worshipper of satanic suggestiveness shouldn’t give a flying beheaded bat’s pizzle whether god is alive or deceased. And asking the question would appear to counter a lifetime of not tossing.
I know all musicians approaching their own mortality have a problem re-presenting what made them vital in their youth. The Stones would seem to somehow just about achieve this – apart from Jagger trying to justify recent outrageous ticket prices by citing dubious claptrap about ‘supply and demand’, and bleating about the cost of funding a tour.
Maybe that’s why Ozzie allegedly fell off the drink and drugs wagon so recently. It couldn’t have been a PR stunt to posit some Sabbath street-cred ahead of the tour and release, surely?
7.6.13
Black Sabbath – 13
Age of Pathos
Released on the 10th June, but streamed over the last few days, like thousands and thousands out there I have been listening to Black Sabbath’s latest 13 and Ozzie’s long awaited return to the band after 35 years. I was asked today if I like it – the obvious question to address in this review – and I think I prevaricated far too much, though essentially I gave an appropriately paradoxical answer. I do and I don’t. As I said of single God Is Dead? it is both wonderful and ludicrous.
As someone who still recalls the brilliance of hearing that first album, aged 15, I can’t possibly retrieve the same ecstatic enthusiasm for this album that tries so hard to recreate the original sound, which it does so effectively. Interestingly as I write, I’m listening to fifth track Age Of Reason – very loud – and this is proving pretty damn cool as it is in many ways least like the music of Sabbath’s first LP which other tracks echo so closely, like opener End Of The Beginning. One thing I’ll say from the off: when Tony Immoni lets loose on any one of these eight songs it is beautiful to hear.
Part of my less enthusiastic response is in finding the lyrics preposterous. Perhaps when I was 15, semantics weren’t really an issue when it came to heavy music. The titles of four songs on 13 declare the pretentions of the pseudo-philosophising: End Of The Beginning; God Is Dead? Zeitgeist; Age of Reason. And the line Is this the end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end, losing control or are you winning, is your life real or just pretend…reanimation of the sequence, rewinds the future to the past….yada yada yada…and I’m chuckling knowingly rather than headbanging mindlessly.
I know this is the wrong approach! I know. Perhaps it’s also knowing so much about Ozzie these days – that reality TV programme; the interviews; seeing a clip of his live performance at Perth this year where his oblivion is worrying and pathetic – his singing live is dreadful. Knowing makes this contemporary packaging of the Black Sabbath sound too disingenuous for me.
But the thumping with harmonica and now Immoni scorching a solo on Damaged Soul playing still loud as I type pulls me in for that momentary escape back to times before, and it is enjoyable. Even far out. But the reality is it just makes me want to put that first album on – always the best and favourite without any question – and then dip in and out of the next three.
The album’s ending on a thunderstorm and tolling bell is neither satirically aware nor metaphorically significant. We clearly understand by now that much on this album is judicious pilfering from the past, and it will obviously be their last offering. This explicit echo from the start of their debut and iconic gem is a mistaken gesture in pathos.
So I’ve just put Age Of Reason on again, louder.
2/2/19
Ozzmosis – Perry Mason, Ozzy Osbourne
Obviously the brilliance of this song is no surprise to metal heads and/or Sabbath sycophants, but I stopped listening to Ozzy after the fourth Black Sabbath album, and if I’m honest, I confined myself almost exclusively to their first superlative outing. Listening to Planet Rock is re-educating me in its narrow narcotic of classic rock, and I have been hearing a lot of Ozzy lately with his undeniably charismatic voice. I think I initially heard this song as a live recording at the first Ozzfest in 1996, which is stunning, especially the guitar shred. The album track played with the volume on afterburn is an explosion of metal pomp and power, thundering its neatly neanderthal riff. And as the title playfully puns, I have absorbed it fully. Spliffing.
14.2.20
Ordinary Man – Easily Edible
While Eat Me does chew on some meatier riff-food, this is heavy rock embroidered, Beatles-esque, life lyrically romanticised, grandiose and highly enjoyable.
22/12/22
Patient Number 9
Every overblown cliché of OO/Black Sabbath is retro-riffed in the most glorious pomp and hyperbole possible. May well have listened to this more than any other in 2022. Clears the heads and makes me smile.
18/10/24
Memoirs of a Madman – Eating Habits
Belting out the collective insanity of the Oz this morning, and it is often wonderful musical madness, but it is also so heavily stylised that its parody of Heavy Metal, certainly when recalling that first and monumental Black Sabbath album, exemplifies the journey to and arrival at the Kingdom of Pop Metal. Immensely enjoyable, but less bat’s head and more the sham sophistication of consuming the ortolan.
gravyfromthegazebo 