Album of the week: Black Sabbath - Vol 4

Black Sabbath play their final concert in their home town of Birmingham this weekend, with the four original members. I couldn’t let this occasion pass without taking the time to honor the band that I’ve come to accept as my all time favorite. There are many bands and artists that I’ve gone through intense periods of listening, with an eventual break. I still love ‘em, but I find myself needing to step away (currently, I’m feeling pretty Beatle-d out). Sabbath have been in my life for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never tired of them (more on that later). I’m so thankful that I saw the original lineup on their first reunion tour in 1999; ‘twas one of the greatest concerts I’ve ever seen.

Vol 4 found the band breaking away from Rodger Bain, who (brilliantly) produced their first three albums. Not only did the band decide to self-produce, but they also headed to Los Angeles; first finalizing the songs in a rented mansion in Bel Air, then putting them to tape at the legendary Record Plant studio.

A whole lot of emphasis is put on to the incredible amount of cocaine the band was doing while working on this album (they even thank their dealers in the liner notes and deliver the song ‘Snowblind’ which comes across more as a warning than a celebration of the drug), but that’s really shortchanging the album. Sadly, the massive drug and alcohol abuse eventually caught up with them, but here they deliver a flawless album with the most stylistic departures they’d yet explored. Of course there’s the original power ballad in ‘Changes’, the beautiful acoustic instrumental ‘Laguna Sunrise, and also the short and sharp ‘Tomorrows Dream’ and ‘St Vitus Dance’- two songs that are catchy, rock plenty hard, and deserve the moniker ‘power pop’ far more than the average skinny tie types.

I’m not gonna waste anymore time before getting to the standout track - the unbelievable ‘Supernaut’. While Tony Iommi’s riff is one for the ages, and Ozzy’s singing is some of his greatest, it’s Bill Ward that shines so brightly here, playing the greatest drum break this side of Clyde Stubblefield’s ‘Funky Drummer’. It’s such a joyous, propulsive MASSIVE track. I’ve thought a lot about their long instrumental passages lately; they are so well routed, and so interesting with incredible twists, turns and ideas. Yet they don’t sound forced or pretentious. My knowledge of (western) classical music is limited, but IMO Sabbath’s instrumental prowess comes across as orchestral. Instead of dozens of musicians, they did it with extreme volume.

Geezer Butler’s lyrics also set Sab well apart from their contemporaries; he’d already penned lyrics expressing anti-war, anti-pollution, anti-evil, even pro-Christian beliefs; on opening track ‘Wheels Of Confusion’, he faces depression and alienation head on. As we learned from his book, he has dealt with depression his whole life. One can only imagine how many people have found comfort in these lyrics; I sure have.

It’ll be interesting to see and hear what Sabbath plays this weekend, and I’ll surely be seeking out clips in real time. Even if Ozzy just got wheeled out and flashed the peace sign one last time, all would feel right in the universe. If they couldn’t be anymore wonderful, they’re donating all of the profits to three charities.

This paragraph is personal, and I’ll just offer a warning that it may be TL;DR. My history of loving this band goes wayyy back. There were copies of all of the first 5 Sabbath albums (except Master Of Reality) around when I was a very little, music obsessed kid. I always assumed they were my mom’s, but she corrected me recently and said they were castoffs from my uncle. My uncle moved on to prog and classical, and was cool enough to hand a bunch of records off to his toddler nephew. They freaked me out (especially the album covers), but I couldn’t stop playing them. Some time in the mid 80s, I video recorded a TV show called something like ‘Visions- Vintage Videos’ that showed Sabbath’s now ubiquitous ‘Beat Club’ appearances. I couldn’t stop watching these clips, completely in awe of their cool and menacing (yet seemingly benevolent) presence. A few years later (1990), my drumming friend Tim Fogle and I spent most of the summer working out Sabbath and Sex Pistols songs. We both hit it hard, and improved dramatically as musicians in this woodshedding. Flash forward another 15 years, and the drudgery of driving cross country to California. Everything I listened to on the drive was bringing me down until I popped in Sabbath CDs; something about drumming on a steering wheel and grooving in the drivers seat makes the monotony of long drives far more bearable. Just yesterday, my partner Miranda asked me what it was about Sabbath. It was so easy to answer, but the last thing on my mind was- their story- made my brain wake up. Four blokes in their late teens/ early 20s who had no privilege in their working class upbringing came together and created a whole new type of music that had never been heard before. Tony Iommi was so full of determination that it couldn’t even take the ends of his fingers being chopped off to stop him. What did he do? Made thimbles that fit his missing digits so he could play.

Now, those four friends will be together on stage one last time to shake the earth. Godspeed, Black Sabbath. As Ozzy so often and sweetly said to audiences while clapping and grinning; ‘We love you!’