THE ROLLING STONES

GET YER YA YAs OUT

Ohhhhhh, jewels and binoculars haaaaang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Charlie Watts, they make it all seem so cruel

Presenting the Rolling Stones on their much documented, somewhat ill-starred (Altamont Speedway) 1969 US tour.

They came, packed venues and laid a somewhat dubious claim to the title of "World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band". ( The Who, anyone?) This is not to say that they played poorly or were doing show tunes in lieu of rocking, though there were other groups that were firing on liquid hydrogen compared to Mick and his crew at that time.

Maybe they had the World's Greatest PR Firm on their side.

Arguments about branding aside, this is definitely an extremely worthwhile live recording in many respects. Yes, post-event audio manipulation is in evidence, though let's not pick up the infant and fling it through the window, hail mary style, with the bath water.

Captured in excellent form in New York's hallowed Madison Square Garden over two nights, the Stones played with renewed fire thanks to their newest member, guitarist Mick Taylor. Brian Jones had been elbowed from the fold earlier that year and died under mysterious circumstances not long after. Taylor's public initiation with the band could have scarcely been more unnerving, as he found himself playing to 500,000 people in London's Hyde Park in July, just two days after Jones' passing.

Though you (regrettably) don't see him execute the brilliant slide solo that he lays down here on their reworking of Robert Johnson's "Love In Vain", you definitely hear and feel it. Panache wins the day.



Fast forward to the fall gigs in the States.

Working their way across North America, with new technology (monitors) that afforded everyone the luxury of hearing themselves on stage for the first time, they also, conversely, had the means to project their sound to larger audiences. Gone were the half hour sets that were drowned out by screaming kids. People now expected value for their concert dollar, had grown with their favorite artists and were now coming to the gigs to actually listen.

Imagine that.

Having been away from the touring circuit for two years, the pressure was on to bring a monumental spectacle to each city. To their credit, the Stones delivered. Kicking off with a trippy collage of overlapping introductions, the album opens with "Jumping Jack Flash".



Jagger, resplendent in his Uncle Sam top hat, cape and stage uniform emblazoned with the Omega symbol provides the ultimate lesson in how to front a band with aplomb. Charlie and Bill hold down the rhythm expertly, leaving Keith and Mick Taylor a solid foundation over which they weave their six-string magic. There is a certain energy that emanates from this record that you feel across all of the forty years that have elapsed since they played these shows. Visceral and dirtier than the toilet on the cover of Beggars Banquet, there is no doubt that they tapped into a fantastic vibe, amplifying it considerably. "Sympathy For the Devil" finds them particularly inspired and deep in their own groove.

Here is something to ponder as you pound the tabletop in time with Charlie Watts' impeccable playing. Why is it that kids in the early 80s were not rushing out to buy Glenn Miller records on the fortieth anniversary of his passing? Surely, live recordings of "In the Mood" should have been repackaged and had people clamoring to get their hands on them?

Yet, the same amount of water has drifted under the bridge since these performances and the expanded, 40th anniversary edition of "Ya Ya's" is now available, with legions of fans going out of pocket to possess it. The reissue contains five extra tunes, plus a bonus disc featuring the opening sets by both B B King AND Ike and Tina Turner. You also get the DVD, vinyl copy and a small vial of the special serum that has allowed Keith Richards to avoid many scheduled lunch dates with the Grim Reaper since 1966.

"Prodigal Son" is a highlight amongst the extras.

Personally, I have a soft spot for this disc. It sits proudly in my collection (vinyl copy), gets dusted off every so often and cranked. Despite the fact that it was fixed up with post production overdubbing, mainly to correct vocals, it remains a great testament to the tight-knit, live powerhouse that the Rolling Stones became as the calendar page turned to close out the tumultuous sixties. The material on the official release was culled from their most recent LPs at that time (Beggars Banquet and Let it Bleed) with two Chuck Berry covers ("Carol" and "Little Queenie") and the aforementioned "Love In Vain".



I can't ever listen to them doing "Carol" without thinking of Berry giving Keith shit about the opening bend in the riff while they were rehearsing for the concert that ends Taylor Hackford's brilliant film, "Hail.Hail Rock and Roll".

"Midnight Rambler" is a high watermark in showcasing the live blues tightrope that they walked so well, complete with dark subject matter and dynamite, gritty harp playing from Jagger. "Stray Cat Blues" is literally attacked in performance, put across beautifully with a different arrangement than the album version. There is a great sense of purpose in this endeavor, almost as if to let people know that they were still vital, sharp and not about to relinquish their position in the commercial arena. Quite funny to think about now, when you consider that they were all still quite young, though, to be fair, so was rock music and a year away from the scene meant that you ran the risk of ending up as yesterday's news.

Ultimately, business dictated the issue of Get Yer Ya Ya's Out, as bootlegs of their 1969 shows were attracting revenue, not a penny of which was making its way back to the group. Live'r Than You'll Ever be was a good quality, audience recording of a tour stop in Oakland that had record executives nervous and was even treated to a review in the music papers of that era.

There is quite a treasure trove of live recordings to be found from this period, if you are a collector.

I'm going to refrain from taking the ostentatious route with this last bit, though I do believe that some folks who have internet access should have their ability to comment in public forums revoked until they successfully pass an IQ test.

OK, screw it.

In one corner we have the late, great Lester Bangs and an excerpt from his review of this disc, way back in 1970:

"There are more important things than playing on-beat and on-key, and that fine line between slam-bang exorcism and unedifying noise is what would seem to make a great live LP. All of which is why Get Your Ya-Ya's Out is such an unfettered delight. This album, at last, proves the fears of those who cared to fear groundless. More than just the soundtrack for a Rolling Stones concert, it's a truly inspired session, as intimate an experience as sitting in while the Stones jam for sheer joy in the basement. It proves once and for all that this band does not merely play the audience, it plays music whose essential crudeness is so highly refined that it becomes a kind of absolute distillation of raunch, that element which seems to be seeping out of Seventies rock at a disturbing rate. Where most live efforts seem almost embarrassing in their posturings and excesses, and even The Who Live At Leeds held tinges of the Art Statement, Ya-Ya's at its best just rocks and socks you right out of your chair. You can not only love it for what it is, you can like it for what it isn't."

Now, let's hear from a few contemporary MENSA members to get their two cents:

wankme off | 9/10/2009, 11:16 pm EST

the stones are fucking wankers and are a crap studio band!
the glimmer bum boys have had nothing musically relevent to say since slightly after the the shit that crawled out of the primordial ooze made the mistake of going on to dry land which was the last time they issed anything remotely resembling a fucking song.

tony | 9/11/2009, 12:32 pm EST

this is kick ass!
i fuckin’ love the stones.
the greatest rock n’ roll band!

bum boy in bondage | 9/11/2009, 8:15 pm EST

i once had a wank while watching jagger pretending to blow the mike!
mmm…mmm…blow the mike.

Just a sampling from some of our generation's greatest minds, though the final word belongs to Keith Richards:

You've got the sun, you've got the moon, and you've got the Rolling Stones.

PETE TOWNSHEND

ALL THE BEST COWBOYS HAVE CHINESE EYES

Mid-points in any journey or experience are a curious place at which to arrive. You can look over your shoulder and cringe at some of the things you have said/done, over-analyzing just about every step that carried you to your present destination. At the same time, the wisdom gained along the way will (hopefully) prepare you for the second leg of the journey.

Would you like the rest of that mid-life crisis packed up to go?

Pete Townshend has never been shy about laundering his thoughts and hanging them out to dry in full view of the general public. All The Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes followed a spectacular crash and rehabilitation period that caught him with his feet straddling two very different sides of the artistic fence. One had him writing songs for the group that he had been a part of since the early sixties, while the other was pointed toward an exit from said situation. The sticking point with the Who was a need to tailor the lyrics so that they would sit well with frontman/interpreter Roger Daltrey. Townshend needed to express himself as freely as possible, which is why his solo work sat so uncomfortably in juxtaposition with the Who LPs of the early 80s.

Writing from the gut, his inner treasures/turmoils could be voiced by no one other than himself.

"I've now decided that there is one kind of writing for the band and one kind for me."

Sporting the then- trendy "New Wave" coiffure, he retired the past to the closet in favor of the synthisizer-driven leanings that were beginning to grab the ear of the masses. Never one to reduce his work to faddish, inconsequential bullshit, he infused the tunes with enough imagination to escape the gravity imposed by the universal time/date stamp. Production was handled by Chris Thomas, who saw that the artist's vision was delivered in an immaculately wrapped aural package. Supporting players hit their marks with clean precision, with special mention going to the percussive wizardry that Simon Phillips brought to the table.

Pretension creeps in (not for the first time), but I ask one question: Would you rather put up with a great artist erring toward pomposity in an attempt to reach a bit higher or sit and listen to homogeneously produced banality until someone plunges knitting needles through both of your eardrums in an act of mercy?

Effectively, the problems that plagued Townshend from his earliest days were always, by alchemic process, filtered into wonderful songs. This isn't to say that he sat around the house, interminably unhappy, writing self-pitying slabs of desiderata. He could have, considering that his marriage was failing, old friends were meeting untimely ends and the clock was winding down on his membership in the Who, soon to embark on a "Farewell Tour". Drink had always been a factor, though he had long since forsworn drug use, only to take it up again with a vengeance following several monumental personal losses.

"Somebody saved me, from a fate worse than Heaven"

He sought treatment for his addictions, escaping having his name carved into rock's obituary section prematurely. Putting a group together, he wrote material specifically for them to perform ("The Sea Refuses No River", "Slit Skirts") and started into pre-production rehearsals.



Townshend's continued maturation as a writer is the main draw here, although no attempt is made to sketch out an album length conceptual piece. Some of the music was written originally for the Who ("Somebody Saved Me"), while other selections touch on recovery period in California ("Exquisitely Bored"). Ultimately, the songs are stronger because he lends his own voice to them, with emotions emerging undiluted as they amy have been if placed in the hands of a surrogate vocalist.

" 'Comunication' is a song about people pretending to relate to one another when they're actually not."



Spoken word interludes come into play, as they do in the brilliant "Stop Hurting People", easing some poetry into the mix, which may be the root cause of some fans intense dislike of this record. Poppier synth tones probably drove off those who yearned for the guitars to be pummeled with windmilling fury.

Had no one taken notice of the Who's transition from 'rock' to 'pop' band? Certainly shouldn't have been a huge shock, given the haircuts and the complete sonic overhaul that was previewed on Face Dances.

Interestingly enough, the album title spawned a sequel-song/bizarre video called "Face Dances Part 2"



Somewhat amusing now, these videos only serve to point out just how unnecessary they were.

Live performance is a different matter.



Melodic, overwrought at times, with slight shades of Andrew Lloyd-Webber-itis, he still manages to mingle deeply personal revelation with more universal statements. Balancing his synthesizer orchestrations with driving bed-tracks, steps are also taken not to completely submerge guitars or stray down the dangerous path of complete self absorption. It's ultimately a very satisfying listen.

Feeling no great urge to lean on the heavier side of his multi-faceted musical gifts, Townshend put a great deal of care into arrangements, not making any concessions to past triumphs by merely recycling them in the guise of new work. The best track is saved for the end and "Slit Skirts" burns with barely veiled themes that reveal the insecurities so many feel when approaching the changes wrought by middle age.

"Can't pretend that growing older never hurts"

BOBBY DARIN

One of the most versatile singer/songwriter/instrumentalists to ever grace the stage, Bobby Darin packed quite a bit of accomplishment into his 37 years. Throw in acting/production credits and you begin to get a picture of the ambition that pushed him to work to the end, despite frail health.

Walden Robert Cassotto passed away on December 20, 1973.

BAT OUT OF HELL: THE ORIGINAL TOUR

Bat Out of Hell-Live

Filmed at the Stadthalle Offenbach, Bat Out of Hell: The Original Tour captures the raw excitement of Meat Loaf’s epic stage show. Larger-than-life songs like “You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night)” and “Paradise By The Dashboard Light” sounded absolutely extravagant performed live. Not only does Meat Loaf dominate the stage, but he also captivates audiences with the riveting nature of his songs, with the help of the album’s songwriter Jim Steinman and female vocalist Karla DeVito.

Bruce Kulick's presence in the band gave the tunes a heavier edge that trumped the album versions.

Its visual proof of the power of Bat Out Of Hell, which certified 10x Platinum and sold over 40 million copies. Also included is a bonus interview from 1978 with Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman.

Track Listing:
1.) Great Boleros Of Fire
2.) Bat Out Of Hell
3.) You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night)
4.) All Revved Up With No Place To Go
5.) Paradise By The Dashboard Light
6.) Introducing The Band
7.) Johnny B Goode
8.) River Deep, Mountain High
9.) Johnny B Goode (reprise)
10.) Two Out Of Three Ain¹t Bad
11.) All Revved Up With No Place To Go (reprise)



It sees official release on Nov 10th, so check it out.

LED ZEPPELIN

LED ZEPPELIN II

Some of the finest albums of the rock era are celebrating their 40th anniversary this year, with Abbey Road, Tommy and Let It Bleed being just a few notable releases that hit turntables for the first time in 1969. When a quartet of hirsute Englishmen released their sophomore disc in the fall of that year, which came wrapped in appropriate autumnal colors, it heralded another great sea change in popular music.

Grandiloquence aside, Led Zeppelin II remains a mainstay of classic rock play lists and continues to attract scores of new converts.

Around the time that they exploded on the scene, a rock writer joked that the Beatles battled the Rolling Stones in a parking lot and Led Zeppelin won. Sonically, Zeppelin helped usher in the 70s with this massive, mind-blowing head trip that borrowed (very liberally) from the blues, refashioned it into a precision assault and marketed it to an unsuspecting public. A friend of mine saw them in 1970 (he was 15) and his brain was pinned against the back of his skull, cowering, for a week. There were heavy bands out there, though very few were this loud and exceptionally gifted all at once.

Comprised of two session-playing veterans (Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones) and two young upstarts (Robert Plant and John Bonham), Led Zeppelin was formed out of the wreckage of The Yardbirds in 1968 from which Page was left as the last man standing. The now-famous name came out of a drinking session that involved Keith Moon and John Entwistle, who were seriously considering leaving the Who to team up with Page and possibly Steve Marriot to embark on a project that would follow the blueprint of the Jeff Beck Group. Moon quipped that they would likely go over like a lead balloon or a lead zeppelin.

You never know what will come out of having a few pints.

When the actual lineup coalesced, they recorded the first LP quickly and the response was overwhelming. Touted as a “supergroup”, anticipation grew in advance of the follow up. Ultimately, they delivered a glimpse of a future where “guitar hero” would enter the rock vocabulary. Devising an aural template that has been widely imitated but never successfully duplicated, the combined talents of Jimmy Page and engineer Eddie Kramer were enough to ensure that rock records would never sound the same again. Despite the fact that the Zep II tracks were recorded on the fly while they were on tour, utilizing a number of different studios, the overall production does not sound piecemeal. It is an incredibly fresh sounding disc that, frankly, put all of their competitors to shame in terms of fidelity. Audiophiles of that era had to have been overjoyed that they weren’t straining to pick out the nuances in the contributions of the individual players. Power and clarity make for a gripping listening experience, though the key to most everything they did was an inherent understanding of dynamics. There is plenty of evidence that the three instrumentalists were in lock-step with each other, especially if you have spent any serious time listening to quality bootleg recordings of their better performances (preferably before 1975). Telepathy is the best descriptor of the interplay amongst them on stage as even mistakes were turned around, on the fly, into gold.

Having two brilliant arrangers in the band didn’t hurt either.

Retrospectively, Zeppelin is often seen as the band that slammed the door shut on the sixties and sonically vanquished all existing groups with an unprecedented volume that was as subtle as a charging rhino. Indeed, the cover of Led Zep II pretty much says it all. Equating themselves with Germany’s deadly WW I aviation squadron, Jasta 11, (the Flying Circus) you see the band member’s (plus Richard Cole and Peter Grant) faces superimposed on a now famous photograph of that division, which was led by Manfred von Richthofen aka The Red Baron. Tying themselves by name to another German invention, the dirigible that terrorized Britons during the first world war, the underlying message was clear:

When you put this record on, it’s going to carpet bomb you back to the Stone Age.



Opening with a muffled laugh, the monstrous, Les Paul/Marshall driven riff that heralds “Whole Lotta Love” is quickly joined by the bass and Plant’s vocal. When Bonham lays into his kit, it is with the power of a screaming formation of Messerschmitts darkening the skies, ready to drop their destructive payload on targets below. The blues have mutated here into a punishing, relentless blast designed and engineered to shock the already blown minds of the hippies and deliver the ultimate headphone trip-out, replete with noises equipped to rouse the dead. Page and Kramer apparently went to great lengths in manipulating the board to achieve the insanity unleashed in the mid-section of the tune. Utilizing a mad percussive base, snippets of extreme vocalizations from Plant and a theramin, love never sounded so deranged.

There was something that rang all too familiar about this track, though. Patterned on Willie Dixon’s composition "You Need Love" and the Small Faces take on it, from which Plant heavily drew on the vocal mannerisms of Steve Marriott, blues purists immediately began to cry foul when no credit was listed for Dixon on the LP.





Musically, it was a revelation, though Page would later lament the fact that Plant didn’t tweak the lyric enough for them to escape charges of plagiarism. Regardless of this, the impact of “Whole Lotta Love” was undeniable, especially the turnaround after the wig-out in the middle as Bonham comes back in hard and Page tromps his Wah pedal to the floor and spits out three, picture perfect lead lines that bring us back to the main theme, which fades with Plant’s primal screams.

There’s a reason for those “Get the Led Out” specials that still factor heavily in the formats of rock stations.

“What Is and What Should Never Be” is an exercise in “light and shade”, with a languid, jazzy intro in which the star of the show is the bassmanship of John Paul Jones. Just as you’re lulled into a false sense of security, Bonham’s bricklayer hands smack the snare and the dynamic is altered. Rather than bulldozing their way through ten tracks, without stopping to take a breath, they generally chose to vary the pace of their program and this is a wonderful example. Page’s slide solo straddles the two themes and the outro is pure gold, with guitar panned madly across the stereo divide, gong and more histrionics from Plant.



The remainder of the first side is devoted to a reworking of Howlin’ Wolf’s “Killing Floor” during the course of which everyone has a chance to go ballistic on their respective instruments, while Plant gives specific instructions on how to deal with his lemon, which no doubt inspired the re-titling of said tune. “Thank you” is a gentle, mid-temp affair, with prominent Hammond fills from JPJ and an excellent acoustic solo, though it trails off with a slightly meandering keyboard theme that follows the trick ending. You can imagine the faithful snapped out of their reverie in a smoke filled room, with a roach or two in the ashtray, thinking that the needle should have skidded into the run-out groove by that point.

Surprise!

Speaking of vinyl, those that turned over the disc for the first time to hear side two were treated to another monster riff over a groovy shuffle. “Heartbreaker” must certainly be in the top ten when it comes to songs that originally inspired the concept of “air guitar”. Building in intensity, the main figure changes key signatures at several points until it comes to a dead stop.

It is here that Page enshrines himself in the guitar god hall of fame by peeling off the now-famous solo lines that have been imitated thousands of times in the intervening years since this LP first appeared. In performance, this section was filled with every imaginable improvisation, ranging from Bach to "The 59th Street Bridge Song" . Back on record, the band joins him in a furious Yardbirds-esque rave up to continue the mayhem at maximum speed (for 1969 anyway) dragged along by another excellent Page-ism (later to be co-opted by Alex Lifeson to form the bulk of Rush’s “Beneath, Between and Behind”). This scorching solo comes to a screeching halt once again and we're back into the verse, heading for the homestretch.

Those would-be imitators who followed them never quite got it, either.



Seriously evaluating the remainder of the disc, you have a quick, non-descript rocker ("Living Loving Maid") followed up by a really fantastic acoustic-electric gem with outstanding bass lines. "Ramble On" really stands out as a key to the versatility of Zeppelin. This tune qualifies my previous remark about those groups that fell short in their attempts to follow LZ's lead. Beautifully understated, there is a serious degree of finesse displayed by everyone involved, with an intentionally insane amount of panning between the channels in the fade (listen with headphones). One thing has always bothered me in reading the musings of various rock critics on Zep is the ink that has been devoted to Plant's love of Tolkien's prose and his incorporation of Middle Earth into the lyrics.

I don't hear it.

Aside from mentioning "the darkest depths of Mordor" and the slithery Gollum in the verse of "Ramble On", there is no sword and sorcery action at all on this disc. Worse yet, the same idiot rock writiers all trashed this excellent platter when it was new, preferring to list what drug they were on while listening, rather than fairly taking in the work.These scribes either had their ears packed with gauze or were frightened by the muscular sounds they were hearing. For a good laugh, look up John Mendelsohn's cringe worthy description of the LP, which appeared in Rolling Stone shortly after it was released.

If you ran out and bought everything recommended within the pages of Rolling Stone, you would be in possession of the shittiest collection of music on the planet.

"Moby Dick" is introduced by the riff from Bobby Parker’s 1961 hit, "Watch your Step" which mirrors the model, but not the music, set up by Cream for Ginger Baker in “Toad”. This development would lead to the stadium rock syndrome of allowing the drummer to flail away, interminably, as the other band members trooped off-stage for booze, drugs, sex or all three.

Bonham made his showcase count, as he knew how to tune his drum heads properly, was technically skilled and went the extra mile by playing a good portion of the solo with his bare hands.

Now, that’s rock and roll.

Snapping off abruptly, the end game is set up with a scratchy, 12 bar snippet that features Plant blowing a mean harp, slurring his words in the guise of an old bluesman. Some have singled this out as an embarrassingly racist pastiche, though I truly believe that it was performed as a genuine, fulsome tribute to the blues artists that both Plant and Page were obsessed with. Had they seen fit to list proper song writing credits, where they were due, they would have completely leveled their karma. Just as this interlude ends on one breath drawn in on Plant's harmonica, Page cuts in with a bold, distorted guitar line, which became epic in his hands with harmonized overdubs. The rhythm section burns with the intensity of a blast furnace as everyone truly "brings it on home". Nothing of this magnitude had ever graced a disc and yet sounded so precise. Countless needles were offered up in ritual sacrifice as kids bought the LP by the truckload, wearing it out from continuous play. Knocking Abbey Road out of the number one spot (twice) in those fateful, dying months of the 1960's, Led Zeppelin II made everything that came before seem quaint by comparison.

Critical opinion has long since been revised with respect to Zeppelin's output, though at the time their very existence was seen as a cynical, money-grabbing ploy by record executives. The sheer force of their collective talents went a long way in dispelling the ideas that they hadn't payed their dues playing dives and were merely the product of hype.

Led Zeppelin II sealed their position in the stratosphere and rock grew several feet taller, losing its baby fat in the process.

CLARENCE CLEMONS

BIG MAN

October 21st saw the release of "Big Man", the larger than life autobiography of Clarence Clemons.

Recognized as the most accomplished and well known member of the E-Street Band, saxophonist Clarence Clemons is delivering the inside story of his life before, during and beyond the E-Street Band, including unbelievable, never-before-told adventures with Bruce Springsteen, the band, and an incredible cast of other famous characters recounted by himself and his best friend, television writer/ producer Don Reo in Big Man.

This is a must-read for all fans of Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band.

BLACK SABBATH

SABBATH BLOODY SABBATH

Widely hailed as their supreme recorded achievement, an opinion with which the band members themselves concur, Sabbath Bloody Sabbath was quite a departure from the aural template that the group had set in place with their first few releases. Choosing to retreat somewhat from their relentless touring and recording schedule in 1973, the members of Black Sabbath reconvened to work on the new tracks at a more leisurely pace. Vol. 4 had several signposts that pointed to a new direction, including a gradual abandonment of their signature lugubrious, sludgy sound. One significant difference with this record is that Tony Iommi had drastically altered his guitar tone. Production values were also much higher than before with strings and keyboard augmentation becoming more of a rule than an exception.

Still, there was no worry about Sabbath straying into Barry Manilow’s territory.

PROLOGUE

While recording the tracks for Vol. 4 back in ‘72, the Sabs hung out in LA, snorted mountains of coke and availed themselves of the pleasures of being rock stars in sunny California in the “let it all hang out” early seventies. Seeking to duplicate the process, the lads jetted back to the US to set about getting some new material together at the Record Plant. Trouble set in immediately as the vibe in the studio wasn’t the same due to the banks of keyboards and synths that had been brought in by Stevie Wonder, who was also working on a new project. The root of the problem was that Iommi was going through a brief dry spell with respect to new ideas. Generally, the others looked to him to come in with riffs and musical passages to which they could add their parts, sketch out melody lines and add lyrics. Cutting their losses, they trooped back to the UK and took some time to rethink their approach as Iommi went back to the drawing board.

The new rehearsal space was the dungeon in a castle in Wales, with band members continually having a go at scaring the shit out of each other. Once ensconced, Iommi reconnected with his muse and came up with the signature opening blast that became the title cut on the disc. Had things not turned around, the Sabbath story might well have ended right here. Once this temporary creative block was removed, the songs flowed beautifully and took several very uncharacteristic turns as they were mapped out.

Black Sabbath should be counted as one of the most important bands to ever plug in and play.

Want to know why?

Innovation by accident.

Most rock aficionados know about the unfortunate injury that a 17 year old Tony Iommi sustained to his fret hand while he was on his last shift in a sheet metal factory. The machine he was working with caught the tips of his middle fingers on his right hand, severing them instantly. He was a lefty and the incident almost brought an end to his guitar playing days. Perseverance coupled with invention allowed him to continue. He fashioned plastic finger tips to bear the brunt of applying pressure to the strings, though the guitar in standard tuning still made it painful to depress them with enough force to produce proper notes. His solution was to detune the guitar, thus slackening the pounds per square inch on the neck and making it much easier to play with prosthetic finger tips.

This significant event would eventually spawn a completely new genre. When Sabbath took shape, Geezer Butler detuned his bass to match Iommi and they became the heaviest sounding group of their time. Heavy metal in the darkest shade of black had arrived. Their approach was not without precedent, as Blue Cheer and Mountain had been walking the same sonic path, although Iommi's departure from basic blues structures gave them a unique angle, unlike anything else in the marketplace.

Critical reaction to the band was fairly chilly, quite often singling their material out as being plodding and simplistic.

“Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” was a giant, raised middle finger to each and every writer who had ripped them, not recognizing that they stood in the vanguard as originators of a new type of music. It also stands as a very powerful opening salvo, which is solidly anchored by the rhythm section. Suddenly shifting gears, the riff is replaced with a delicate figure that leaps from the Wes Montgomery jazz playbook.

Nobody will ever let you know, when you ask the reason why
They’ll just tell you that you’re on your own, fill your head all full of lies

This section is reminiscent of the verses in the Beatles “Don’t Let Me Down” which also features a prominent F sharp minor. Crashing back into the main theme followed by a solo, things take yet another ominous turn with one of the most foreboding set of changes over which Ozzy floats his “helium voice”.


Black Sabbath - Sabbath Bloody Sabbath

Kyle | MySpace Videos

Distancing themselves from that incredible, bottom heavy sound on record may have been disconcerting for fans that were looking for more of the same. The quality output found on Sabbath Bloody Sabbath was sufficient to silence even the harshest critic. The production is clean, while managing to avoid that antiseptic feel, as the listener is always reminded that a real band is kicking throughout. Out of the eight selections, only one falls flat with respect to standing up to repeated listening and that is the tedious “Who Are You”, livened up only by some decorative keyboard and mini-moog work by Rick Wakeman.

Yes!

Wakeman lends his virtuosity on the 88s to “Sabbra Cadabra” as well as handling harpsichord and piano duties on “Fluff”. Legend has it that he exacted no more than a couple of pints of John Courage Best Bitter as payment for his services. He had struck up a friendship with the quartet when Yes and Sabbath toured together and was far more committed to having a good time than his Yes-mates were. Hence, some fun drinking sessions with Osbourne and Ward ensued and everyone bonded through the magic of cocktails.

In my view, just about everyone who picks up an electric guitar and thrashes out a rock song these days automatically owes mechanical royalties to Tony Iommi. Merely stating that he was prolific when it came to creating iconic riffs does not properly do him justice. Using a few examples from this LP, let’s have a look at the six-string bounty that was heaped upon them.

“Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” – Five distinct themes
“A National Acrobat” - Six changes
“Killing Yourself to Live”- Six changes

He had so much going on in some of these compositions that, in some cases, he didn’t even trouble himself to return to the introductory guitar figure. This is one of many reasons why I think that people who knock the band demonstrate a profound ignorance of their accomplishments and influence.

Even a cursory glance at the lyric sheet for this disc would be enough to raise an eyebrow. “A National Acrobat” explores the eternal cosmic questions that Geezer Butler playfully dismissed as being, “about having a wank.” Deflecting the controversial nature of his subject matter with humor, Butler knowingly wades into the long debated topic of “at what point does life begin?” with an ease of expression and deftly ties it to the concept of reincarnation. This is one of my favorites in their entire catalogue, as it is intelligently constructed on all fronts. Ozzy delivers the song with a wink (and a laugh toward the end).

Bill Ward propels the slow, twisting riff with his usual dexterity, steering the others smartly through all of the changes. He gave Sabbath an extremely important anchor for many of their flights of fancy, though what separated him from many of his heavy-rock contemporaries was his ability to infuse his time-keeping with swing. He was never lead-footed and you can hear a slight Elvin Jones influence in the way he flew around the kit.. There is a tendency to forget how much Ward contributed as a percussionist as he was overshadowed by John Bonham and Keith Moon in the flash department. His jazzy touches provide a finesse that balances well with some of the more ponderous explorations of early Sabbath, almost akin to the example of a heavy person that is surprisingly light on their feet. Those flourishes at the tail end of “Sabbra Cadabra” are prime evidence of his skills and lighter touch(not to mention the entire song-it cooks!)

Sabbath always had time for a mellow guitar interlude that generally served as a buffer to give the listener a breather from the exercises in brain-melting riffology. “Fluff” is the most developed of these themes to date. The guitar break in the bridge is pure Hard Day’s Night era Beatles, so convincing that it sounds as if George Harrison himself showed up to play on the session. Wakeman's harpsichord and piano decoration add up to a very sophisticated final product.

Both "Sabbra Cadabra" and "Killing Yourself to Live" are multi-part epics. They are also the last really heavy songs on the LP with the former seeing the band straying into near-Zeppelin territory. Ozzy howls about "his woman", though his distinctive phrasing is miles away from Robert Plant and borders on pathos in the breakdowns. Though he was never a technically perfect singer, he developed a style that perfectly suited the onslaught created by Iommi, Butler and Ward. Don't forget that this is the same John Osbourne that spent hours in front of the mirror as a teen trying to imitate his idol, Paul McCartney. It is to his credit that he found his own voice and niche as a front man.



"Who Are You" is simply boring, which was rare in their case.

Curiously, two very un-Sabbath-like selections were chosen for the homestretch and close the proceedings in majestic fashion. "Looking For Today" hammers home a "here today, gone later today" lyrical theme, cleverly taking a shot at the ascendance of the Me Decade's greedy, disposable consumer culture. Ward lays down a groove throughout the verses that echoes the scattershot patterns that Keith Moon employed in "Happy Jack" and "I Can See For Miles", though he plays it straight on the chorus. Iommi adds flute to the mix and the tune rides out on a repeated arpeggiated wig-out, topped off by dueling guitar solos.

Nothing in this remarkable set prepares the listener for the grandiosity of the finale.

Prefaced by a slice of faux-classical acoustic picking, the haunting theme gives way to a supercharged electric intro, fired by intense high-hat work and dramatic punches. Iommi does a nice scale excercise and the drums tumble into a very pretty, orchestrated verse.

Sorcerers of madness
Selling me their time
Child of god sitting in the sun
Giving peace of mind
Fictional seduction
On a black snow sky
Sadness kills the superman
Even fathers cry

Sweeping strings lead into the chorus, written by Ward. Overall, the sheer impact of "Spiral Architect" is quite stunning. Wil Malone's arrangement is tasteful and the momentum builds right up to the end as the tension snaps on the last note, applause is dubbed in and Sabbath take their bows. Bass and drums provide the perfect outro to fade. To say that this is a beautiful song is an understatement.



Sabbath Bloody Sabbath marked a great turning point in the development of their sound, which saw them turn away from where they had started. Litigation, pharmaceutical intake and internal disagreement about how to proceed followed this excellent disc, with all three virtually bringing their operation to a halt for a period. Fans would see the group release just one more "classic" record the following year with Sabotage, though it would, sadly, be their last high calibre work of the decade.