Showing posts with label Black Sabbath. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black Sabbath. Show all posts

CD Review: Black Sabbath – 13

CD Review: Black Sabbath – 13
Universal Republic
All Access Rating: A-

Black Sabbath - 13 2013
13 is a matter of life and death for Black Sabbath. The harsh truth of the matter is the godfathers of heavy metal may not be long for this world. 

Tony Iommi’s cancer scare has certainly given them pause to consider their own mortality, and if Iommi is to be believed, it was his health concerns that led Sabbath to move on without original drummer Bill Ward and get 13 made with someone else – namely, Brad Wilk, of Rage Against the Machine and Audioslave fame. Time waits for no one, not even Black Sabbath.

The grim reaper hasn’t come knocking on their doors just yet, however. As 13 proves, Sabbath is, thankfully, still alive and kicking up a monstrous racket of doom-laden metal that’s reminiscent of that haunting and truly unsettling first album that signaled such a turbulent sea change in rock music back in 1970. Rife with meditations on dying and the afterlife, as well as existential thoughts on whether the Almighty still has a pulse, 13 is the heaviest, blackest tar Sabbath has stirred in decades, just as producer Rick Rubin intended. And yet, some of that sludge Sabbath is so famous for has been washed off. Cleaned off somewhat, the snarling, brass-knuckled sound of 13 is bone-crushing, as that serrated edge to Iommi’s crunching, growling riffs and his intensely focused solos saws through steel, throwing sparks into the air.

Inhabiting both heaven and hell, with sympathy for the devil and his Maker, the lurching 8:52 first single “God is Dead” seems to move in slow motion – as if sizing up its prey – right up to the bridge, which twists and swings like a bridge during an earthquake. Surging with energy, as Iommi’s guitar slashes like a broadsword, it seems as if Sabbath has discovered an ancient and evil groove, pulled out of the ground by its roots by Geezer Butler’s brawny bass lines and reanimated for the garment-rending, circling menace of “Live Forever.” That survival instinct is kicking in, although the grave doesn’t seem like such a bad option on 13.

Stretching out long past seven minutes, as most tracks on 13 do, the gnarled psychedelic-blues of “Damaged Soul” ponderously crawls through the wreckage of a life in ruins, while “Dear Father” is a slow, steady climb up a mountain of emotional garbage – the remains of a broken relationship with a not-so loving parent. And “Loner” is almost as depressing, as Iommi stacks cement blocks of riffs to create a movable wall of thick, impenetrable sound – the kind the subject of the song might build internally to shut out the outside world.

Mangled guitars, writhing bass lines and crashing drums surround Ozzy Osbourne’s rather dour vocals, which fits 13’s downtrodden mood like a velvet glove. Shifts in tempo and melodic current occur, but they are not abrupt. Sabbath flows easily from detour to detour, never needing a GPS to find their way back to the main road – although it’s easy to get lost in the lush, mysterious “Zeitgeist,” the snaky conga drums and brushed acoustic guitars bringing to mind “Planet Caravan.” Sabbath’s past is omnipresent on 13, which makes the whole musical direction of the record seem calculated and not as naturally or organically inspired as perhaps it should appear.

Nevertheless, 13 is a lucky number for Sabbath. With its tenacious hooks, the album bearing those numerals has given them their first No. 1 record in 43 years. Maybe God isn’t dead after all. http://www.republicrecords.com/
    Peter Lindblad

CD/DVD Review: Dio – Finding the Sacred Heart – Live in Philly 1986

CD/DVD Review: Dio  Finding the Sacred Heart – Live in Philly 1986
Eagle Rock Entertainment
All Access Rating: A-

Dio - Finding the Sacred Heart -
Live in Philly 1986 2013
Trying to recreate Stonehenge onstage didn’t work out all that well for Spinal Tap. Undeterred by such a brutally funny cautionary tale, Dio had something bigger and more impressive in mind for the spectacular staging of 1986’s “Sacred Heart” tour, and he got the math right.

Under the watchful gaze of a massive, animatronic dragon, Dio frolicked night after night among medieval ruins, a steady barrage of pyrotechnics and state-of-the-art laser displays, with drummer Vinny Appice perched dangerously atop a thick, 15-to 20-foot column of fake stone. A crystal ball with a hologram of Dio talking of magic, rainbow bridges and epic quests appears just before they start the dramatic journey through “Sacred Heart.” And when that portion of the show arrives where the dearly departed Ronnie James Dio, light sword in hand, does battle with the mechanical beast, opening its chest to reveal a heart made of lasers, even Nigel Tufnel, Derek Smalls and David St. Hubbins would have to bow to the creator of this theatrical monstrosity.

Philadelphia was one of the stops on the tour’s second leg, the one where guitarist Craig Goldy replaced Vivian Campbell, who played such an integral role in the making of Holy Diver and The Last in Line. Having already formed a bond with Dio and his wife, Wendy, from his days in Rough Cutt, Goldy was the ideal fill-in. He knew the songs backwards and forwards and the juggernaut known as Dio, having lost none of its potency, invaded the Spectrum on June 17, 1986 looking to once again conquer a territory that had always loved him and become its king of rock ‘n’ roll – with the cameras rolling, of course.

The original film of his coronation has been faithfully restored, and considering its age, the visuals are remarkably vivid, warm and visceral, preserved in a package of treasures titled “Finding the Sacred Heart – Live in Philly 1986.” This riveting performance is out on DVD, Blu-ray, CD and as a double LP, released via Eagle Rock Entertainment, and seeing a younger Dio energized and full of life is at once terrifically inspiring and emotionally crushing. Ever the showman, his clarion voice is melodic and passionate, cutting like a razor through smoke, walls of power chords, pounding drums and swinging rhythms. And he draws blood in this performance, as does the band.

Drawing from his days in Black Sabbath and Rainbow, as well as the first three Dio albums, the set list is a movable feast of classic metal. Dio, Appice, Goldy, bassist Jimmy Bain and keyboardist Claude Schnell breathe fire as they tear through medleys of “The Last in Line,” “Children of the Sea” and “Holy Diver,” as well as one consisting of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Children,” “Long Live Rock ‘n’ Roll” and a particularly combustible, full-throttle drive through “Man on the Silver Mountain,” with venomous glee. Closing the night with a violent rendering of “We Rock,” Dio was just as relentless in attacking “King of Rock & Roll” and “Like the Beat of a Heart,” while taking pains to emphasize the sweet pop-metal hooks of “Hungry for Heaven” and the dark beauty of “Don’t Talk to Strangers,” just before it transitions into a blazing inferno of rock. And they kick out the jams in “Heaven and Hell,” turning it from a slow-building dirge into something more aggressive and angry. 

Flashier than Campbell and out to prove something to a fan base that wasn’t all that accepting of him initially, the confident Goldy plays with a chip on his shoulder, and his ingenious, scissoring solos and torrential, serrated riffing are electrifying. Appice is a locomotive on drums, and Bain, always the glue of this outfit, tenaciously holds down that low end like a smiling pit bull, while Schnell combines the muscular thrust of Jon Lord with the synthesizer swirls of a Keith Emerson in galvanizing flourishes. Aside from Bain, they all take a solo turn, and while Schnell’s is somewhat less compelling, the others are dynamic and thrilling.

Add in an informative featurette, narrated by Dio, on the elaborate stage show,  the original video of “Rock ‘n’ Roll Children,” two thoughtful interviews with late singer  one from the Sacred Heart period and one of more recent vintage  and in-depth, Malcolm Dome-penned liner notes and the fully loaded “Finding the Sacred Heart – Live in Philly 1986” becomes a comprehensive look at one of the most ambitious tours in metal history. 
 – Peter Lindblad



CD Review: Glenn Hughes – Live in Wolverhampton


Glenn Hughes
Live in Wolverhampton
earMusic/Armoury Records
All Access Review: A-

Glenn Hughes - Live in Wolverhampton 2013
Sobriety seems to suit Glenn Hughes rather nicely. A nasty drug habit nearly cost him his life, as well as his career, by 1990. Off of nearly everyone’s radar, Hughes was in danger of both burning out and fading away. 

Miraculously, despite all efforts at self-destruction, the former Trapeze, Black Sabbath (yes, he was working with Tony Iommi on his solo album, but Seventh Star ended up a legit Sabbath release) and Deep Purple Mark III and IV bassist/singer – dubbed the “voice of rock” by, all of people, the techno-house outfit The KLF, who employed Hughes on their 1991 single “America – What Time is Love?” – got clean and started working his magic again, putting out an eclectic series of solo albums and interesting experimental collaborations that, once more, brought out the funk-soul brother in Hughes.

Live in Wolverhampton, recorded over two nights in 2009 in Hughes’s hometown of Bilston, is sort of a Glenn Hughes starter kit for the uninitiated. Joyous and life-affirming, with an intimacy most concert recordings never quite manage to capture, this double-disc set showcases the vocal gymnastics and vitality of Hughes and the impressive chops of a band that twists and turns this material sideways and inside-out, breathing new life into it. When they get cooking on extended jams, Hughes, drummer Steve Stevens – not the guy from Billy Idol’s band – and guitarist Jeff Kollman threaten to boil over on sweltering hard funk and vibrant R&B workouts like the old Trapeze favorites “You Are the Music,” a cosmic “Your Love is Alright” and “Way Back to the Bone” from Disc 2, themed “You Are the Music: An Evening of Trapeze.”

And what a night it is for this particular performance, reminding us all just how criminally underrated Trapeze is, the funk-rock pioneers blazing trails few dared follow. Culling selections from both 1970’s Medusa and 1972’s You Are the Music … We are the Band, this set finds Hughes and pals giving “Coast to Coast,” “Seafull” and the warm, charming little ditty “Good Love” a soulful rendering, with some sophisticated jazz-fusion passages – as well as a stormy, yet melodic, take on “Jury” – thrown in for good measure.

All the colors of Hughes’s rainbow are display on Disc 1, where the rugged hard-rock stomp and thick grooves of both Hughes/Thrall’s “Muscle & Blood” – off their self-titled 1982 album – and “Crave,” from Hughes’s solo LP First Underground Nuclear Kitchen, move with purpose and bad intentions, with just a touch of psychedelic soul making the choruses bloom, as they also do in the sunny, kaleidoscopic R&B feasts “Love Communion” and “Don’t Let Me Bleed.” Stevie Wonder, who once called Hughes his favorite white singer, would be duly impressed, although he might blanch at their lengthy and unnecessarily bloated 20:36 reading of Deep Purple’s “Mistreated.”

Originally recorded by Purple for the seminal 1974 album Burn, Hughes’s first appearance on record with the band after he’d replaced departed bass player Roger Glover and David Coverdale had stepped in for Ian Gillan, “Mistreated” opens with an imaginative and beguiling Kollman guitar solo that’s gentle and delicate in parts and fluid and fiery in others. Still, this take is somewhat turgid and missing the smoldering bluesy character of the original, with some of Hughes’s vocal histrionics going a bit too far at the finish. Despite this misstep, Hughes’s confident phrasing throughout Live at Wolverhampton is sublime, those remarkable pipes of his sounding just as clear as they did 40 years ago.

When he screams, “I’m a man,” at the end of “Muscle & Blood,” you don’t doubt it for a second, and he chooses his partners well – Stevens’ amazing stick work in “You’ve Got Soul” is intricate and propulsive, and both he and Kollman, who sounds like a hundred of the greatest guitar players of all-time all rolled into one, seem perfectly in sync with whatever’s going on in Hughes’s head. The party for Hughes may no longer involve mind-altering substances, but if Live at Wolverhampton is any indication, it’s raging hotter than ever for a man who’s found serenity and happiness.
-            Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: Ozzy Osbourne - Speak of the Devil


DVD Review: Ozzy Osbourne - Speak of the Devil
Eagle Vision
All Access Review: A-
Ozzy Osbourne - Speak of the Devil 2012
Rudy Sarzo writes in the photo-filled booklet that accompanies “Speak of the Devil” of Ozzy’s “fragile mental state” as the “Diary of a Madman” tour soldiered on in the aftermath of Randy Rhoads’ unthinkable death. That old saw about how “the show must go on” meant as much to a distraught Ozzy in his time of mourning as it ever did for any entertainer down through history, and Sarzo, Ozzy’s bassist at the time, shudders to think how the singer would have reacted had his traveling circus been shut down.
Desperate for the warm, sympathetic embrace of thousands of rabid fans, Ozzy and his carnival of the damned rolled into Irvine Meadows, California, on June 12, 1982, after an understandable delay and held a head-banging Irish wake for the virtuoso guitarist, slamming Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” “Children of the Grave” and the encore “Paranoid” to the wall after ripping the throat out of a slew of Ozzy’s solo hits. Now out on DVD, with audio restored and remastered with crystal – perhaps even unnatural – digital clarity, this is more than just a historical document of an electrifying performance from one of metal’s legendary front men. As he pounds his chest during a blazing rendition of “Crazy Train” – with Rhoads’ replacement, the underrated Brad Gillis, hungrily tearing through the song’s familiar riffs and manhandling its scorching leads – or somewhat clumsily executes one of his exuberant frog jumps, Ozzy, clapping away with arms raised, makes a grim reaper-defying gesture here as he drinks in the healing elixir of rock ‘n’ roll, as trite as that sounds. Ozzy is born again, his rebirth a devilishly delightful rock ‘n’ roll spectacle.
And it takes place while he’s surrounded by a really cool medieval castle for a stage and all the smoke, fire and pulsating multi-colored lights that rock ‘n’ roll fantasies are made of – plus a laser-lit bat that flies overhead during Ozzy’s dramatic entrance. Visually, though awfully dark on occasion, “Speak of the Devil” is filmed with professional sensibilities, combining expansive faraway shots and close-ups that often focus on the careening, razor-sharp musicianship and clenched-teeth intensity of Sarzo and Gillis during marauding, energetic romps through “Over the Mountains,” “Steal Away (The Night),” “I Don’t Know,” and “Flying High Again.” When, in a moment of unscripted playfulness, Ozzy bites into Gillis’ head and threatens to bash his skull as he grinds away during a blistering “Suicide Solution” solo, the camera frames the moment artfully, just as it does when Ozzy welcomes Gillis to the band with a big bear hug while the new guy shreds “Mr. Crowley.”
All of Ozzy’s demented, crowd-baiting antics are on display, as the comically ghoulish dwarf mascot “Ronnie” is hung during an otherwise lovely and wistful reading of “Goodbye to Romance.” Later, before launching into “Paranoid,” Ozzy slips on a glove that shoots fireworks out of its fingers. And the staging is absurdly massive and gloriously tone-deaf to fading calls for rock to be less ostentatious. Up high in one of the fortress’s balconies is hooded keyboardist Don Airey, whose regret-tinged piano colors the eco-friendly, peace-loving “Revelation (Mother Earth)” with all-too-human expressions of sadness, while his sinister intro to “Mr. Crowley” is pure horror-movie magic. On the staircase that serves as a drum riser, Tommy Aldridge pounds the night away, throwing the sticks aside and using only his hands in the midst of a frenzied drum solo midway through the show.
Everybody gets their turn in the spotlight on “Speak of the Devil,” and if there were any extras – maybe a featurette on the tour’s outlandish theatricality, perhaps some interviews with Ozzy or any of his band mates to give context to the event (Sarzo’s emotional insider’s perspective in the accompanying booklet shining some light on the inner workings of Ozzy’s crew), or just a smattering of behind-the-scenes footage – this DVD would be absolutely essential. As it is, “Speak of the Devil” is a captivating snapshot of a time when Ozzy was on the verge of going off the rails but somehow managed to keep the train rolling.
-            Peter Lindblad

Kill Devil Hill unleashes its 'War Machine'


New metal act features legendary drummer Vinny Appice, ex-Pantera and Down bassist Rex Brown
By Peter Lindblad
Kill Devil Hill's new S/T release in 2012
A sonic voyage of the damned replete with eerie, hell-spawned imagery, doom-laden riffs and apocalyptically heavy grooves, Kill Devil Hill’s self-titled debut LP is the product of fiendish musical minds. Priests might be tempted to conduct an exorcism for its creators, but ex-Black Sabbath and Dio drummer Vinny Appice – the guiding force behind the new fearsome foursome Kill Devil Hill, which counts former Pantera and Down bassist Rex Brown among its members – wouldn’t be a good candidate for such an ordeal. He’s not at all evil and there’s no demon inside him trying to consume his soul. At least on the phone he didn’t seem to be tortured by such things. His biggest worry was a distracting girlfriend causing him to lose focus and prevent him from providing an articulate accounting of the group’s mission.
Augmented by newcomers Dewey Bragg, the powerful singer whose huge vocal roar sounds as if it could swallow the earth in one big gulp, and guitar wizard Mark Zavon, Kill Devil Hill sets out to dig up the remains of early Black Sabbath and “Man in the Box”-era Alice in Chains on its gothic first album, which drops May 22 via SPV/Steamhammer. Reanimating their bodies with darkly contoured melodies and skin-piercing hooks laid over the solidifying cement of Brown’s thick bass and Appice’s punishing, dynamic drumming, tracks like the devastatingly serpentine “Rise From the Shadows,” the haunting “Up in Flames” and the truly spooky “Gates of Hell” capture the sludgy creepiness of Sabbath in their prime. Meanwhile, the aggressive, gripping battle cry “War Machine” could be the soundtrack for the inevitable faceoff between heaven’s angels and Lucifer’s legions. A wicked seductress covered in stained-glass guitars and garish lingerie, “Voodoo Doll” is a head-spinning den of sin and iniquity, and “Old Man” sees deep inside your soul and castigates your wickedness with a brutal chorus and bloody, chopping riffs.
Kill Devil Hill has arrived and not a moment too soon. A massive, gloomy fortress of heavy metal that ought to be sitting on a mountain surrounded by towering pine trees, Kill Devil Hill’s latest is a powerhouse record and a warning to anyone who would doubt the abilities of Appice and Brown to reinvent themselves. Appice talked about Kill Devil Hill and touched on his days with Sabbath and Dio in this recent interview.
This new project you’ve got is something else. Explain to me how Kill Devil Hill got started.
Vinny Appice: Well, actually, it was a funny way it started. We came off the “Heaven and Hell” tour and I had to have shoulder surgery because I was killing my shoulder on the giant drum set. So what I did was, right before the shoulder surgery, I recorded 13 drum tracks for this download thing on the Internet. And then right after I did that, this hospital called and said, “We can get you in early. Why don’t you come down and we can do the surgery next week.” So I had these drum tracks and then after the surgery, I’m in a sling. I can’t play. So after the surgery, I’m in this sling. And I’m sitting there and I’m going, “I can’t play. I can’t do anything,” ‘cause the sling was going to be six weeks and I couldn’t play the drums for a couple months. So I listened to the drum tracks one morning, and I said, “Wow, these are really cool!” So I called Jimmy Bain (former bassist for Rainbow and Dio), a good friend, and he came over. So I said, “Why don’t you play to these and do what you do?” So he started playing, loves it and then I got word that there was this guitar player, Mark Zavon, who lives close by to me. And I thought, “Well, this will be a good way to see how he works and how he plays.”
So I invited him down one day and I engineered it, laid guitars down on some of the stuff Jimmy did, and it was really taking shape. Mark had a lot of great ideas, and I said, “Well, this is cool. Do you know any good singers?” And he played me a CD of Dewey, Dewey Bragg, of the song “Hangman,” which is on our record. I had never heard of the guy. I loved the way he sounded, loved his voice, it’s modern, it sounds cool and dark. So that’s how it came about. And eventually, it didn’t work out with Jimmy. We tried a couple other people, and I heard Rex was looking for something, so I knew Rex from way back, and I called Rex and messengered him some of the songs. He loved ‘em, played bass on ‘em on the demos and we thought, “This is really cool. This is really taking shape now.” We were able to get a deal with those demos, and Rex committed to the band. And we started grouping everybody’s ideas together, writing more songs, and then that’s the way it came together in a pretty interesting way. It all started with some drums.
Some of the songs you’ve been involved with over the years, have they started with drums or is that an unusual situation?
VA: Well, “War Machine” … it’s almost the real drum track that I played. I played that tempo, and I went, “Boom.” I started with a fill … the fill is not on the record, it just slams in. And those parts, I would play 16 bars and then I would change. And then, I would go back to the feel. And I was playing it in my head, like it was a song. And a lot of “War Machine” is almost identical to the track I played originally. And a couple of them are like that. Some of the rest are newer that we wrote later on. So it was interesting that they were written with the drums.
Talking about your past with Rex, I was reading an interview with him in Revolver magazine about him and Phil [Anselmo, from Pantera] would sit behind Geezer Butler’s rig on the Dehumanizer tour and watch you drum while smoking a joint. Do you remember much of that at all?
VA: Yeah, it was Black Sabbath and Pantera. We played a number of festivals together and they would go on, and then we’d go on. And they’d all be sitting by the side of the stage or behind Geezer’s amp, and they would watch us play because they were big Sabbath fans. And he said, “I was watching you, man, beating the sh*t out of those drums.” And they were always there; Phil was great. They loved Sabbath, so it was cool and it gave us energy. There they are over there watching us play, so we got off on it, too. It was pretty funny.
What were your impressions of Pantera back then?
VA: They were just bad-ass, man – a powerful, strong band. So much energy … they just slammed it to the wall. So I enjoyed them and I watched them, too, before we went on those shows when we arrived on time, I was watching Pantera. So, they were awesome, man … absolutely – slamming it to the wall.
Did you have any inkling back then that you could one day work with Rex or any of those guys?
VA: I never thought about it. I just liked the way Rex played. That’s one thing that stood out was his sound. It was so big and hip and really the foundation under the band. I always liked the way he played. He reminded me of someone between Geezer and Jimmy Bain. And I loved the sound, and I never thought that we’d play together. I just thought, well, it’s a little bit different types of music, you know – good friends, good buddies, but I hadn’t really thought about it. I admired the way they played, and especially Rex.
And then you guys reconnected a bit on the “Heaven and Hell” tour, which Down played on.
VA: Yeah, Down opened for us. We played a lot of dates together, and we went down to Australia, and it was cool. It was cool hanging out. It was a great tour and successful, so it was cool hanging out with friends and being out on tour for that long. There was even talk of, at one time after Ronnie passed away, if we were going to continue, what singers we could use. Phil’s name popped up as a possibility to make another record, but that never happened.
Wow, that would have been something.
VA: Yeah, great to think of it now.
Just before the interview, I was listening to the new album a bit and thinking about Dehumanizer, and I went back and listened to that a little bit. I saw a few similarities. Do you see anything in Kill Devil Hill that relates to Dehumanizer?
VA: Yeah, I understand what you’re saying … like the guitars, very heavy and very heavy riffs, and the drum sounds are a little bigger on Dehumanizer. There are some similarities to it. And I think there are some similarities with the old style Sabbath, the early Sabbath. And then there’s a little bit of Dio in there, too. Dewey is a very melodic singer, very heavy and dark. But then he hits on those melodies. Some of them remind me of what Ronnie had done. So it was kind of a combination of those things, and some of it’s like Alice in Chains. It reminds me a lot of Alice in Chains and Pantera. There are a lot of little ingredients in there, you know. And it wasn’t like we sat there and said, “Let’s do this so that it sounds like this.” It just happened that way with all the bands and the combination of them.
You mentioned the Alice in Chains comparison that’s come up a bit in regard to Kill Devil Hill. I know Rex was saying in Revolver that he thought Kill Devil Hill was much heavier. That definitely seems to come across in the record.
VA: Well, it does, because the thing with Alice in Chains is, the drums never really played anything more than the feel of the song. I don’t play that way. I play with the riffs more. I think the parts with Alice in Chains … they’re a heavy band, but the harmonies sound more Alice in Chains-y than the band. The band is a little bit heavier, a little more aggressive, but the harmonies in the vocals are what remind you a little bit of Alice in Chains.
Talking about the harmonies and the guitar player, Mark, maybe you haven’t exactly discovered this talent, but as big as your names are – those of yours and Rex – it does seem like he and Dewey are really strong up-and-coming musicians I would think.
Vinny Appice 2012
VA: Yeah, you’re right. When I first got together with Mark and he plugged into … we didn’t have any amps, he plugged into the sound board. I just had a little studio. He plugged in with some pedal things and he got a great sound. And I went, “Yeah, this is cool.” And with Mark, he reminds me of Tony Iommi because he plays good chords, heavy chords. A lot of players are into shredding all the time. They don’t learn how to play chords and the feel, steady, and to make it sound big and heavy. Mark did that I noticed and then we played together live and I noticed that, too. And he’s a great guitar player and he can shred, man. He can shred with the best of them. He’s a killer guitar player, and he’s a great guy. That’s what was important. I was looking for somebody I could work with first. And then he came down, and I went, “Man, he’s f**king awesome.” He’s a great guy, he became a great friend and he’s so into it and so passionate about music, you know. And that could be because he’s always dreamed about something bigger and this is his opportunity to shine. So it just worked out great, and then when we went to do the album, he wanted to do different things on the guitar – some of them I didn’t agree with, but I let him do them, and the outcome was incredible. He did a great job, all those doubling things and effects.
And Dewey … the same thing. He was a guy where all we had to do was come up with some cool, heavy riffs, and we give ‘em to Dewey and he comes up with these great little hooks. And if he didn’t, we’d help him. Mark was a great help, working with the vocals and lyrics, and even me … I’d say, “Why don’t you try something like this, something simple” and so we all threw in together, but Dewey was mainly able to come up with all this stuff. And he looks the part. He’s real … yeah, it’s amazing, and he’s got a great sound to his voice. It was just exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want an ‘80s singer or anything like that. It was supposed to be something new, with some roots to it. So, yeah, it just happened to be assembled, and that’s why I like the way the band came together. It’s not a paper band like, “Let’s get this guy from this band, and this guy from this band,” and it looks good on paper and then you do an album or two and then the band breaks up. It came together and fell together like a band should. And Rex and I want to keep it going. We want to build a career with this band. We think it’s a great band. We have fun together, we play live together, it’s fun, we jam and musically it’s awesome.
That, I think, is great news to everybody because the new album is really something. I just reviewed it and I was blown away by it.
VA: Yeah, and you know, it was produced by us and Warren Riker (Down, Corrosion of Conformity, Sublime, Cathedral). We had a lot of problems along the way, but we sorted them out and we needed somebody to mix it. It was supposed to be mixed and it wasn’t mixed on time, and we were kind of stuck. And then somehow, Rex mentioned this Jay Rustin guy, and we went, “Whoa, look at the credits that Jay Rustin has,” and he just did the last Anthrax release, so we met with Jay and got to know him and he just made it sparkle. And he just gave the whole thing this great … he took all the recordings of all the tracks and just made it happen, made it sonically sound really thick, a nice-sounding record. Jay did a great job. Now if we could only pay him (laughs). If could only make some more money and pay him, that would be great.
I was wondering if you could touch on some of the individual songs on the album. You talked about “War Machine” and that’s such a great opener, really heavy, it’s got that kind of hornets’ nest of guitars that it kicks up. It sounds like that was one of the first songs that you came up with.
VA: Yeah, it was one of the first songs. Like I said, that was a drum track – “boom dap boom, boom dap boom.” That whole thing was a drum track. And then Mark came over and started playing some stuff to it, and then he said, “Let me take it home and work on it.” And then he took it home, and the next day, he put all these guitars on, which was basically the song. And it was like, “F**k man, that kicks ass.” And then Dewey got to it and wrote the lyrics … I think between Mark and Dewey, they wrote lyrics. I’m not sure who wrote that one. And then the melody was there, Dewey came up with the melody and it just came together, like “Whoa, this kicks butt.” So that was a burner, out the door. Great opener, like you said.
I wanted to get your thoughts, too, on “Gates of Hell” and “Rise From the Shadows.” “Gates of Hell” was kind of unusual. In a weird way, it reminded me of Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun,” a real twisted bit of psychedelia.
VA: Yeah, well, you know what? As far as lyrically and stuff, I don’t get into that. It’s the weirdest thing: I don’t hear lyrics. I hear them, but I don’t follow them in the song. And I played with Dio for years and I was with Ronnie for years, and he’d say, “Here’s what I’m trying to say in this song.” And I didn’t hear it until he told me what they were. So he would tell me the lyrics, and he would do that sometimes. “Here I’m doing this and there I’m doing that …” But I don’t hear lyrics. I’m so honed in on the riffs and the band, and I see songs differently, which is good because that’s not my thing. I’m good at what I do. So lyrically, I kind of know where it’s going and the feel, and I hear the words, but I don’t know exactly what he’s saying. And that’s just the way my ears hear. I mean, “Rainbow in the Dark” … how many times did I play that song – three million times or something – and I still don’t know what it’s about. I know some of the lyrics, but that’s about it.
So, “Gates of Hell” was something Mark and I started jamming on. He did these things and had some verses, and the next day we came in and listened to it, and we did this and there were some parts that were missing. Eventually, we added another part, and we thought, “Don’t go to the chorus after the first verse” because it’s such a giveaway to go the chorus. Let’s build it up and then it hangs and drops. And then they’re listening and “Oh sh*t,” now there’s the second verse. And it’s the second verse that goes to the chorus, so it was different things like that. I was just aware when we made the record and wrote these songs to keep … the only thing I thought of was to keep the listener interested by not doing too many verses or [making] the verses long. Ronnie always said, “You don’t want them to figure out where the next part of the song’s going to go.” And you want to keep a little bit of guessing going on in there. Instead of the song going right in on one, you might have done three bars instead of four, so when it comes in, it’s unexpected. So that’s the only thing I was aware of. For some of them that went long, we shortened things up a little bit or [came up with] odd changes or odd fills, a couple fills that are like three bars. See, I like all that weird sh*t and messing things up – that’s my drumming (laughs). “Gates of Hell” is a real moody son of a bitch, and Dewey does some great vocals in it and a great guitar solo and Rex’s bass goes to a dark place.
It’s very sinister. It definitely reminds me of that first Sabbath album. It’s kind of disturbing and unsettling.
VA: The other one, “Up in Flames,” you know we had that. Me and Mark jammed on that, and then similar to “Gates of Hell,” we wanted to keep it up a little more, so on that one, I actually thought of Ringo. And I thought, “Ringo would play this simple” – doo bap, doo doo bap, doo bap, doo doo doo doo [descending] – so I just kept it simple. It was kind of a Ringo effect. I thought Ringo played great, you know.
Was Ringo’s drumming influential for you?
VA: No, not really. It wasn’t influential, but now, when I listen to the Beatles’ stuff, when somebody plays parts of songs and not just beats, then I’m very impressed by that. Anybody can play the beats of a song. When you listen to Beatles songs, there’s a stop, there’s a part where Ringo just plays the toms, there are parts where he maybe just plays the bells … he’s so creative. And that’s what Bill Ward did in the early Sabbath stuff. He didn’t just play beats, he played parts. And that’s impressive when drummers create parts to play musically instead of trying to shred.
As far as playing together with Rex, what do you like about playing with him the most?
VA: It’s cool. First, I love the sound. It’s a giant, giant sound. And then, he doesn’t play busy. You know, he plays solid, and it allows me to go crazy sometimes. So Rex is not a real busy bass player. He’ll play some licks here and there, but then he’ll lay it down. He lays a great foundation and then I’m able to lay into that foundation and I’m able to go a little crazy with crazy fills and stuff, like I’ve always done my whole life. So it works well together, and then when we get down a riff, I’m just locking in with him and it’s huge. And then I just beat the sh*t out of the drums as much as I can and he plays like that, too. The cool thing is we’re both in sync, you know.
You mentioned that you and Rex want to make this a career band. Where do you envision it going?
VA: Hopefully, to a higher level. I won’t say the top, that’s hard. But the fun thing is, it is fun and it’s fun to create. So to have fun and have success on top of it is wonderful. So we hope to build it and tour bigger tours, build up a great fan base and make great music. I’ve done it before, but not with my own band. So this is totally something new for me.
Do you feel a greater sense of ownership with this group than past bands you’ve been with?
VA: Oh, absolutely. Just the way it was with Sabbath and Dio, they’d say, “You’re rehearsing from here to here, flying out here and going to the gigs. Here’s the tour.” Everything was laid out with decisions. Musically, with Dio I was involved more with the ideas and some of the songwriting. And then Sabbath, you know, it was mainly just ideas, ‘cause it was Sabbath, you know? I’d always put my opinion in with some of the things and try to be a part of the band that way. And this is totally different. There are a lot of decisions to be made. I never did this before, so now it is like, when the band makes money, you make money. When the band loses money, you’re part of the loss. So it’s a whole different animal, and I’ve never really done it this way before. It’s like owning your own company. It’s a lot more work.
You mentioned songwriting. Tell me some of the things you learned from your Sabbath experience and with Ronnie that crop up on this record.
VA: Well, like I said from Ronnie, it was try the unexpected. You don’t want the listener to go, “Ah, now I know what’s going into the next part,” and it does. It’s like sometimes when you hear records, they go back and forth, with something in between that. It might be an odd bar or something, or an odd change, a couple chords or hangs, or whatever it is. And then it goes to something that’s anticipated. So a lot of that stuff came from Ron, and Sabbath was more of watching Tony and Geezer play, how they played and how at times Geezer sometimes followed Tony on the riffs and then he wouldn’t follow Tony on the riffs. Tony would be riffing and Geezer would play something else to counter it. And I learned from Sabbath that there was no rest between the songs (laughs). It was like some of the songs were just heavy riffs that would breathe a lot. And in Black Sabbath there was no reason to have to go impress anybody ‘cause they were Sabbath! They breathed and they lived and they crawled. And it was interesting. Sabbath was more just observing stuff. “Why is Tony going there?” Things like that. And then you get it. “Oh, man. That’s weird.” And some of the harmonies Geezer and Tony would play – different notes, changes in chords and sh*t … like, “Whoa!”
How long did it take you to feel like you fit in with Sabbath?
VA: Well, when on the first tour for Heaven and Hell, I fell into that and it was just basically they wanted to continue the tour. So I came in and learned the songs quick, and they were happy with it. They were happy with the feel, and as it went along, there were very few things that were said. Like I never sat down with the whole band and discussed musically what we would do. It was like they just liked the way I played. And only very minor things, like Tony would say it would be interesting to do this or do this a little more open … there wasn’t a lot of stuff. So, I assumed they liked the way I played. And as it went along, when I didn’t have to think about parts of the songs, I became more “Vinnie” in the songs and they liked it. So probably midway through that tour, I felt like, “Yeah, it’s cool.” And then when we did “Mob Rules,” as we wrote “Mob Rules” and recorded it … because we did that before the album released. There are two versions of “Mob Rules,” one that’s for the “Heavy Metal” movie, and when I heard that, I thought, “Oh sh*t, this rocks.” I heard the sound through it, and I thought, “I’m going to fit in real well.”
I know you did some Kill Devil Hill shows in April of 2011, and I was going to ask you what the plans were to tour and what the crowd reaction was like back then.
VA: Yeah, when we toured last year, there wasn’t a big buzz on the band. We weren’t doing interviews. The record wasn’t even … it was recorded, it wasn’t mixed. So we just went out and did the tour, and people in some of the places knew me and Rex were in a band, so they came down. Some of the places didn’t know who the hell was in the band. Some of the places were full, some of the places were … well, there weren’t a lot of people there. But no matter where we played, we started playing and people came to the front and then they took the songs … the thing about these songs is they’re very grasp-able. The riffs are there and they repeat and the harmonies and the vocals. It’s got hooks – there’s a lot of hooks – and it’s heavy and it’s easy to grasp.
Can you imagine when Rush went out for the first time, playing some of those songs and nobody had heard them, but they repeated one riff and the songs are six minutes long. Our songs are more grasp-able, where people can say, “Oh yeah, I get it.” And then when we go to the second chorus, then they get it. It went over well, man, because people had never heard these songs. Now we’ve noticed there are more people at the shows because the re’s a buzz and they’re all waiting for the album, but they grasp these songs. They get it. It’s cool. They get the vibe of the band.

Far Beyond ... Sabbath?


How a Pantera member almost joined Heaven & Hell
By Peter Lindblad
Vinny Appice of Kill Devil Hill
Since joining forces on Black Sabbath’s revitalizing “Dehumanizer” tour back in the early 1990s, the Sabbath family – as dysfunctional as it is at the moment – and members of Pantera have maintained a fairly cozy relationship.
Glad to stay out of the current mess involving plans for the reunification of the original Black Sabbath lineup, Vinny Appice, drummer for Sabbath during the Dio era, has other irons in the fire, one of which involves former Pantera bassist Rex Brown. On May 22, Appice’s Kill Devil Hill, which also features Brown, singer Dewey Bragg and guitarist Mark Zavon, releases its self-titled debut album on SPV/Steamhammer, a grim, crushingly heavy amalgamation of black-hooded, Sabbath-style doom metal, head-swimming melodies on loan from Alice in Chains, killer hooks and sinister riffs.
Before all this, however, Appice and another member of Pantera came close to working together. And when one thinks of what might have been … well, it’s nothing short of mind-blowing. Or, at least, it was.
Flash back to the spring of 2010, when the world of heavy metal was rocked by the news of Ronnie James Dio’s death. At the time of his sad demise, Dio was still part of Heaven & Hell, the name the Dio-fronted Sabbath lineup assumed when they reunited in 2006. Over the span of four years, Heaven & Hell toured, recorded three songs for the 2006 compilation LP, Black Sabbath: The Dio Years, and put out the devastating comeback record The Devil You Know in 2009 that critics raved about.
Of course, when Dio died, everybody figured Heaven & Hell was done. And for all intents and purposes, it was. Or was it?
Thinking back, Appice, in a recent interview, recalled how Down – the post-Pantera band that included Brown and Phil Anselmo, opened for Heaven & Hell.
“We played a lot of dates together, and we went down to Australia, and it was cool,” said Appice. “It was cool hanging out. It was a good tour, great tour and successful, so it was cool hanging out with friends and being out on tour for that long. There was even talk of, at one time, after Ronnie passed away, that if we were going to continue, what singers could we use? Phil’s name popped up as a possibility to make another record, but that never happened.”
Wait … what? Phil Anselmo in Black Sabbath? Good God, just think of the possibilities.
It’s easy to understand why the thought appealed to Sabbath. During the “Dehumanizer” tour, Appice and everyone else in Sabbath watched in awe as the EF-5 groove-metal tornado known as Pantera left a path of destruction every where they went.
“They were just bad-ass, man – a powerful, strong band,” said Appice. “So much energy … they just slammed it to the wall. So I enjoyed them and I watched them, too, before we went on those shows; when we arrived on time, I was watching Pantera. So, they were awesome, man … absolutely. Slamming it to the wall.”
Anselmo never did join Heaven & Hell, and perhaps it’s all for the best. Now, Appice and Brown are together in Kill Devil Hill, and everybody’s happy. And if an updated version of Dehumanizer – albeit one whose graveyard atmosphere is thick with gothic imagery – sounds appealing, then Kill Devil Hill is right up your alley.
“Like the guitars … very heavy and very heavy riffs, and the drum sounds a little bigger on Dehumanizer,” said Appice. “There are some similarities to it. And I think there are some similarities with the old style Sabbath, the early Sabbath. And then there’s a little bit of Dio in there, too. Dewey is a very melodic singer, very heavy and dark. But then he hits on those melodies. Some of them remind me of what Ronnie had done. So it was kind of a combination of those things, and some of it’s like Alice in Chains. It reminds me a lot of Alice in Chains and Pantera. There are a lot of little ingredients in there, you know. And it wasn’t like we sat there and said, ‘Let’s do this so that it sounds like this.’ It just happened that way with all the bands and the combination of them.”
Look for the full interview with Appice to be posted in the coming days. Visit www.killdevilhillmusic.com for news and touring information on Kill Devil Hill.

Metal Evolution - "Early Metal UK"

Metal Evolution - "Early Metal UK"
Sam Dunn
VH1 Classic


All Access Review: A-


Demo in hand, Jim Simpson shopped Black Sabbath’s first recordings to 14 record labels, and not one of them had the foresight to sign this fearsome foursome. Not one to hold grudges, especially all these years later, Simpson understood their reticence. As he tells filmmaker Sam Dunn in the “Early Metal UK” episode of the “Metal Evolution” documentary series, why would any A&R representative with a cozy job at some British record label jeopardize his or her career by signing somebody who sounded like that? There was nothing on the charts that sounded anything remotely like Sabbath, recalls Simpson. And, as Simpson points out, label executives have never really gone out of their way to seek out fresh, new sounds. They want something safe, something marketable that bears some resemblance to songs they know will sell. The A&R representative who likes his or her job and wants to keep it will then, predictably, not risk it on four soot-stained lost souls from an industrial hellhole like Aston, Birmingham whose ghoulish sonic menace couldn’t possibly sell more than a handful of records.

Impenetrably dark and truly demonic, Sabbath was playing the devil’s music, even if the charges of Satanism leveled at Sabbath would never stick. Just when it seemed that nobody loved them, along came Olav Wyper. Working for Phillips Records, Wyper saw something in Sabbath, and signed them to the recording giant. One of the unsung heroes of heavy metal, Wyper shepherded Sabbath through the maze of Phillips subsidiaries, finding them a nest at Vertigo. And the rest is history, thanks to Wyper … and Simpson, too. After all, were it not for Simpson’s diligence as manager in the service of his client, Sabbath might have returned to the factories and labored in obscurity until death.

Wyper and Simpson are not exactly Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. The guitar legend and the golden god turned down requests for interviews for “Metal Evolution” because they felt Led Zeppelin was no more a heavy metal act than The Rolling Stones. And maybe they’re right. Producer and sound visionary Eddie Kramer, famed for his work with Jimi Hendrix and Aerosmith, agrees when discussing the matter with Dunn during “Early Metal UK.” Though undoubtedly pioneers in the realm of heavy music and hard rock, Zeppelin’s expansive oeuvre encompassed so many genres – including a strong foundation in the blues – that pigeonholing them in a box marked “heavy metal” would be a sin. The presence of Page and Plant are not required, however, for Dunn and his partner, Scot McFayden, to craft an engrossing, informative and curious study of the role such bands as Zeppelin, Sabbath and Deep Purple – not to mention the contributions of glam-rock upstarts Sweet and T. Rex – played in the development of heavy metal in the early to mid 1970s.

 With eyes wide open, Dunn, fresh off exploring the impact of American bands like KISS on early U.S. metal, seems giddy about the prospect of meeting rock icons from Sabbath and Deep Purple, two sides of the British proto-metal triangle. After a brief, but detailed, study of the British blues boom – with John Mayall sharing his memories of the scene’s explosion and vintage black-and-white live footage of the Yardbirds’ slamming through “Train Kept A-Rollin” – and how slowing things down, as Cream so vividly illustrates during a particularly heavy, psychedelic reading of Willie Dixon’s “Spoonful” onstage in rich video unearthed from the vaults, led to a U.K. metal awakening. Zeppelin’s transformative reinventing of the blues and its influence on metal is thoroughly debated (Dunn makes it into the offices of Plant’s manager, but that’s as close as he gets to him), before Dunn runs headlong into Sabbath, who, as Kramer says, is the definitive metal band.

Heady, punishing live footage of Sabbath pounding away in concert gives way to Bill Ward and Geezer Butler talking about the barren, dismal and violent existence of Birmingham, England in the ‘60s. Of keen interest is Ward’s discussion of how his drumming helped thicken the gloomy atmosphere of the title track to Black Sabbath – in particular, it was the funereal march of his toms that did the trick, the vintage live performance of the track providing the incontrovertible evidence of the fact. But, it’s how deftly Dunn pieces together the story of Sabbath’s early search for a record label, stringing together segments of Butler humorously relating the story of A&R reps abandoning a Sabbath gig two songs in and Wyper’s incisive initial impressions of the band, that speak to the respect he and McFayden show for the material and their ability to communicate it in interesting ways. The fact that Dunn spends so time with Wyper and Simpson, without dwelling on their contributions too long, is indicative of his willingness to go the extra mile, and it is appreciated.

Sharing top billing on “Early Metal UK,” Deep Purple and its metamorphosis from progressive-rock hopeful to proto-metal force of nature – as told by Roger Glove and Ian Paice – is dealt with on a scale equal to its legendary status. Def Leppard’s Phil Collen indulges in a bit of Ritchie Blackmore worship as he recounts seeing Purple live as a defining moment in his young life. An in-depth assessment of Deep Purple In Rock follows the touchy subject of Purple dispatching of singer Rod Evans and bassist Nick Simper in favor of Ian Gillan and Glover, respectively – Paice reiterating that it was a necessary housecleaning that had to take place for Purple to become the powerful, muscular rock engine that would drive such classic LPs as In Rock, Machine Head and Fireball. Of course, Deep Purple would fracture due to internal friction, most of it having to do with Blackmore. Gillan and Glover departed eventually, their shoes filled by the soulful tandem of David Coverdale and Glenn Hughes.

The transition was a rocky one, as Paice tells it. Though Coverdale and Hughes bonded instantly, Blackmore, as has been told time and time again, wasn’t on board with the more R&B-inclined direction of Purple and disavowed Mark III’s first foray, Stormbringer. All of this makes for great drama and fodder for Dunn, as he ties together the seemingly disparate histories of all versions of Deep Purple and shows how all of it did, indeed, shape the future of heavy metal. And that includes Mark IV.

Sabbath’s deterioration is dissected without pity, as Dunn digs into the disastrous Rick Wakeman experiment and the band’s prodigious drug use. Purple was also savaged by substance abuse, creative differences and personnel shuffling. Then along came glam. England was reeling from economic despair and labor unrest, and with the working-class heading to the pubs for a good time, bands like Sweet stepped into the void. The Zeppelins, Sabbaths and Purples of the world had become unapproachable millionaires – and their work was suffering, although in the case of Zeppelin, it was John Bonham’s tragic death that did them in – and the people wanted something different. “Early Metal UK” chronicles the fall of metal’s birth parents and glam-rock’s glittery stomp to the top with aplomb. Always easy and relaxed, but with the inquisitive restlessness of a detective obsessing about a cold case, Dunn and company again weave richly filmed, incendiary period live footage with wide-ranging interviews. And though they play a small role in “Early Metal UK,” the recollections of Simpson and Wyper are essential to Sabbath’s story, and they provide some of the most fascinating commentary of the series. They may not be stars, but Dunn has elevated their level of importance to metal’s growth, and it’s one of the gratifying surprises that Dunn and company plant throughout “Metal Evolution” as if they were Easter eggs, even if some of the stories and photography aren’t always of the rare and never-before-seen variety.

-        -   Peter Lindblad

Metal Evolution - Early Metal UK
Watch the Full Episode - Here and Now! 

Metal Evolution - "Pre-Metal"

Metal Evolution - "Pre-Metal"
Sam Dunn
VH1 Classic


All Access Review: A-

Pinning down that exact moment of conception when heavy metal became a living, breathing entity is next to impossible, as most observers know all too well. There was no “big bang” that, in the blink of an eye, brought this screaming, bloody musical anti-Christ – something akin to that evil baby with the fangs and devil horns that graces the cover of Black Sabbath’s Born Again album – into existence. Although some will argue that heavy metal’s arrival was heralded by Steppenwolf when John Kay uttered the words “heavy metal thunder” in “Born to be Wild” or that its birth occurred the moment Blue Cheer dropped that sonic atom bomb of psychedelic blues that was their cover of “Summertime Blues,” others might point to the first Black Sabbath album or the tragic industrial accident that claimed the tips of Tony Iommi’s fingers as the origin of this particular species. No doubt, all of these events played a role in giving life to the genre, but heavy metal’s creation story is a far more complex tale than even filmmaker Sam Dunn imagined when he undertook his “Metal Evolution” documentary series, an extension of his highly acclaimed “A Headbanger’s Journey” film. And it’s no accident that he included the word “evolution” in the title.

With the probing mind of an anthropologist and a fan’s heart, Dunn, ably assisted by partner Scot McFayden, examine in great detail the roots of heavy metal in the inaugural episode of VH1 Classic’s “MetalEvolution,” “Pre-Metal.” Immersing himself in the Wacken Open Air experience, Dunn launches into what is quite possibly the most academic installment of “Metal Evolution” with a fairly scientific approach, expounding on the neuroscience behind the fatal attraction people have to metal. Scientist Laurel Trainor of McMaster University studies this kind of thing, and on “Pre-Metal,” she talks in-depth about the effect of aggressive music on the body and mind, while measuring Dunn’s head and exposing him to various musical genres during a staged experiment with him. Over the course of “Pre-Metal,” Dunn journeys back in time to study, somewhat predictably, the influence of classical music, blues and jazz on metal’s development, while also taking detours to Sun Studios in Memphis to investigate the accidental discovery of distortion and to Britain’s Marshall Amplification factory to see how founder Jim Marshall, through trial and error, tried and ultimately succeeded in building an amp that would satiate Pete Townshend’s desire for overpowering volume.

That, in and of itself, is a fascinating piece of history, as the story of how the famed Marshall stacks grew into these monstrous delivery systems for explosive sound is inextricably tied to heavy metal’s rise from music’s primordial ooze. No less an innovator than Marshall, Sun Studios’ Sam Phillips had an ear for fresh, exciting sonic possibilities, as the story of “Rocket 88” and the damaged amplifier that wrapped what is considered by many as the first rock ‘n’ roll recording in hot, fuzzy distortion indicates. And Dunn and company link indirectly that historic moment with Dave Davies’ “You Really Got Me” riff – one that many metal musicians cite as having aroused their hard-rock sensibilities – in a subtle way that speaks to their ability to combine all these diverse elements into a cohesive and entertaining package. 

Not at all surprisingly, the non-scientific portion of “Pre-Metal” starts with Black Sabbath and explains how those doom-laden chords that sprung from Iommi’s imagination – their genesis found in classical music – filled their first album with horrifying menace and supernatural uneasiness. From there, Dunn segues into a discussion of classical influences, exploring how Niccolo Paganini’s frantic violin technique put Yngwie Malmsteen on an endless quest to conquer increasingly complex and virtuoso passages and the impact of opera on the vocal theatrics and dramatic stagecraft of the likes of Iron Maiden’s Bruce Dickinson, Judas Priest’s Rob Halford and Queensryche’s Geoff Tate. Going deeper, with great enthusiasm, producer Bob Ezrin reanimates the unbridled bombast of composer Richard Wagner’s grandest epics and transplants it into the body of arena-shaking heavy metal – the connection a logical one and not at all earth-shattering, although it’s hard not be moved by Ezrin’s explanation.

If nothing else, “Pre-Metal” establishes, yet again, that winning documentary style of Dunn’s that meshes his relaxed, albeit exuberant and intense, dedication to the cause with the amazing cross-section of interviews with heavy metal icons, lesser-known players, music-industry insiders, journalists and any other contributors who would talk to him with relevant and interesting historical treatises, rare, insightful anecdotes, a combination of incredible vintage and contemporary footage of some of rock and metal’s finest performers. Scott Ian, Kirk Hammett, the MC5’s Wayne Kramer and others talk about the salvation metal brought them, as Dunn and his collaborators seek to broaden the perspectives of “Metal Evolution” as far as they can. Then, they take it one step further, as they do in the segment on the blues’ influence on metal. With Hammett and former Deep Purple bassist/vocalist Glenn Hughes adding their own two cents worth, they take great pains to get to the heart of that hellish, animalistic quality the blues has – especially apparent in the works of Robert Johnson and Howlin’ Wolf – that made the vocals and starkly minimalist instrumentation of its greatest architects so chilling. Meeting with the man who was the last living member of Howlin’ Wolf’s band, Hubert Sumlin (who actually died in December), Dunn – doing what every great interviewer does in that he divorces himself from the conversation and lets the subject tell his or her story the way they want – describes the scary power and roiling emotions inherent in the music and lyrics of a man who was uneducated in the classic sense, but who knew all too well the trials and tribulations that torture human beings.

While there is a structure to Dunn’s storytelling that is well thought out, the “Metal Evolution” series, and “Pre-Metal” in particular, reveal a tendency to step off the reservation when the spirit moves him. And it moves him in ways that are sometimes mysterious but are mostly rewarding and vital to his dissertation, which is what “Metal Evolution” is. The editing is superb on “Pre-Metal,” as almost every quote packs a punch and the appearance of concert and candid footage from long ago or today quickens the pace and adds visual interest to the piece. As those who have been watching from Day One will undoubtedly realize, Dunn and his crew were only getting started with “Pre-Metal.” 

-Peter Lindblad

Metal Evolution - "Pre-Metal"
Watch the Full Episode - Here and Now! 


DVD Review: Ozzy Osbourne "God Bless Ozzy Osbourne"

DVD Review: Ozzy Osbourne "God Bless Ozzy Osbourne"
Eagle Vision
All Access Review:  A+


In retrospect, that bubbly, tongue-in-cheek lounge version of “Crazy Train” – served with off-the-charts levels of irony – that became the theme of “The Osbournes” reality TV show wound up being more telling than its creator, Lewis Lamedica, perhaps intended. His speech largely unintelligible, except for the omnipresent swearing, Osbourne seemed to have difficulty mastering the simplest of everyday, domestic tasks, a fact borne out by the famous scenes of him befuddled by that dastardly TV remote. 

This was heavy metal’s crowned “prince of darkness”? This was the man regarded by God-fearing, Bible thumpers as evil incarnate? Surely, Satan had more capable henchmen to do his bidding. At home, everybody was laughing at the bumbling, semi-coherent mess train wreck they watched from their living rooms, making light of a family’s seemingly benign dysfunction. What they didn’t know was that, behind the scenes, Ozzy – as well as two of his children, Jack and Kelly – was a drunk and a drug addict seriously in need of help. Ozzy was going off the rails. 

In truth, Osbourne has always been more of a court jester than a powerful master of the dark arts. And like most clowns, underneath the greasepaint, there was sadness, crippling insecurity and a deeply flawed human being who needed to be the life of the party. His son, Jack, has seen Ozzy at his worst, and he produced the warts-and-all documentary “God Bless Ozzy Osbourne,” an unflinchingly honest portrayal of Ozzy’s wild life and times that pulls no punches in telling the whole unvarnished truth. And those who come to “God Bless Ozzy Osbourne” with a mighty thirst for tales of rock and roll excess and debauchery shall be sated. Black Sabbath’s Geezer Butler talks about the bags of cocaine the band had at its disposal after its early brush with success, while Motley Crue’s Tommy Lee relates the revoltingly funny stories of how Ozzy, in a game of one-upmanship, once licked up Nikki Sixx’s pee and snorted lines of ants before regaling us with another that has Ozzy smearing his own feces over a tour bus’s walls. 

But, Ozzy is, for the most part, the main storyteller here, and before launching into confessionals of his less-than-stellar parenting skills, the film details Ozzy’s failed teenage criminal enterprises, his troubled working-class upbringing, Sabbath’s rise and fall, his unexpected rebirth as a solo artist and the emotional torture he experienced after the death of his musical soul mate Randy Rhoads. All of this is well-traveled territory, of course, but it is skillfully and compelling traversed in “God Bless Ozzy Osbourne.” When Ozzy and Sharon, once again, are prompted to explain how, in a fit of drug-addled madness, he came to bite the head off a dove during a pow-wow with record label executives, they hold nothing back, and the filmmakers follow it up with a nicely edited montage of hilariously clueless TV news reports about Ozzy coming to their town to slaughter cats during a concert and, predictably, the bat-biting incident. Directors Mike Fleiss and Mike Piscitelli, with Jack’s help, are no slouches when it comes to crafting a visual biography – the endless stream of black-and-white home-life stills, Ozzy party shots, vintage interview and Sabbath and Ozzy concert video pieced together so cleverly that it all just flows from the screen. The vast amount of interviews done with Sabbath cronies Tony Iommi and Bill Ward, plus sit-downs with Henry Rollins and others in Ozzy’s inner circle, flesh out the story, as does the footage culled from two years spent following Ozzy on the road. 

If that was all to “God Bless Ozzy Osbourne” – there are plenty of extra scenes from the cutting room floor included in this DVD, plus an in-depth Q&A with Jack and Ozzy – it would fall just short of expectations, but this isn’t so much about Ozzy the rock star as it is about Ozzy the damaged addict, still reeling from the deaths of his beloved father and Rhoads and unable, or perhaps unwilling, to salvage his first marriage or establish much of a relationship with the two children it spawned. This is about repairing the devastation wrought by Ozzy’s almost inhuman substance abuse and how Jack’s sobriety became the model by which Ozzy would get clean himself. There’s a clip where Kelly, while admitting her own drug abuse, explains how she found her daddy’s stash of booze in the oven at the family home, and it illustrates just how far Ozzy had fallen and how chaotic the Osbournes’ family life really was. But, this is a story of redemption, and Ozzy’s moment of clarity does come. When the exasperated rock god relates how he asked Jack how he could be so angry when he and Kelly and Aimee, the one Osbourne with enough self-respect not to participate in the circus that was “The Osbournes,” wanted for nothing, Jack responded by saying that maybe he had lacked a father. That, Ozzy reveals, was the catalyst for his rehabilitation. In the end, there is a faraway shot of Ozzy in his dressing room bowing to his knees to pray. It’s a poignant moment, one that engenders a great deal of sympathy for this particular devil. 

-            Peter Lindblad

Ozzy's Official Website: http://www.ozzy.com/us/home

CD Review: WhoCares: Ian Gillan, Tony Iommi & Friends

WhoCares: Ian Gillan, Tony Iommi & Friends
Armoury Records
All Access Review: B

Across the WhoCares marquee, in big, bold letters, read the names Ian Gillan and Tony Iommi, icons of a bygone time in rock history. Any pairing of the groundbreaking Black Sabbath guitarist and, for all intents and purposes, the voice of Deep Purple — with apologies to David Coverdale and Glenn Hughes — is bound to raise a few eyebrows, just as it did in 1983 when Gillan joined Sabbath for heavy metal's version of "Plan 9 From Outer Space," the laughably awful LP Born Again and its "Spinal Tap"-like supporting tour.

Long considered the worst album in Black Sabbath's otherwise awe-inspiring monolith of a catalog, Born Again was a debacle — Gillan's hairy-chested bluesy vocals ill-suited for Sabbath's trademark gloom and doom, a problem made even worse by lackluster songwriting. Even the album cover, that demonic infant born with devil horns, fangs for teeth and sharp claws, proved to be comic fodder. And yet, here we, almost 30 years later, with Gillan and Iommi back together to rewrite the wrongs of the past — or at least trying to get by with a little help from their friends — and make some money for charity. Again into the abyss, the two legends gain a measure of redemption with the WhoCares project, whose purpose is to raise money for the music school of Gyumari, Armenia, an area still struggling to recover from the devastation wrought by a horrendous earthquake in 1998.

A two-song digital single, WhoCares features the tracks "Out of My Mind" and "Holy Water," the former an epic, heavy-duty collision of the thick, crushing riffage of Iommi and HIM guitarist Mikko "Linde" Lindstrom, the insistent, surging keyboard swells of Gillan's old Deep Purple mate Jon Lord and the monstrously huge rhythmic wrecking ball swung over and over by Iron Maiden drummer Nicko McBrain and former Metallica bassist Jason Newsted. As for Gillan, he doesn't sound as out of place here as he did on Born Again. There's a seething undertone of menacing madness in his vocals that rises and falls with every pummeling sonic wave, with a seething Gillan dramatically expressing the scrambled thoughts of a man losing his grip on sanity as nightmarish imagery flashes in his brain. Unexpectedly, Gillan seems to have picked up on that undefinable "it" that made Ozzy Osbourne's vocals work so well with Iommi's unique hammer-of-the-gods guitar work.

"Holy Water," though, is more tailored to what Gillan does best. The star power dimming on "Holy Water" — as the supergroup of "Out of My Mind" gives way to less prominent musicians, like guitar duo Steve Morris and Michael Lee, drummer Randy Clarke, bassist Rodney Appleby and keyboardist Jesse O'Brien — Gillan gives a more reflective, contemplative performance, finding solace and comfort in that "Holy Water" that drowns so many alcoholics. An exotic, dreamy, Middle Eastern intro, perfect for a movie about the politics of that war-torn region starring George Clooney, wafts through the air until smashing headlong into a powerful, bluesy train of Hammond organ, noisy guitars and steely bass and drums that slows in the verses, riding on golden rails of acoustic guitar, and then chugs full-steam ahead toward its destination. It's a song that looks ahead, while still managing to seem full of regret and haunted by a troubled past. And Gillan perfectly captures that combination of hopeful yearning and  twinges of repressed pain in thoughtful singing that can only come with years of bold living.

Still, neither track would ever approach the proto-metal classics that Gillan and Iommi recorded with Purple or Sabbath. There's a slow, but strong, current that pulls "Out of My Mind" along that is magnificent to behold,and while able to roll along through one's mind like the Danube, the song labors and meanders to the finish, despite some beautifully drawn twin guitar work from Iommi and Lindstrom near the end. And while there is character, grace and guts in "Holy Water," it's a fairly bland offering that lacks a memorable melody and doesn't seem to notice it is traveling down a road to nowhere. Still, with Iommi and Gillan both drifting outside their comfort zones, the pair seem energized by their reunion and willing to explore new horizons, even as they bask, somewhat, in the glories of their respective histories.

The enhanced CD is fleshed out with a 30-minute, behind-the-scenes documentary of the recording sessions — plus a video for "Out of My Mind" — and it offers interesting insight into the project, inspired by Iommi and Gillan's trips to Armenia to see the damage and recovery for themselves. In a way it perhaps mirrors the motivation Iommi and Gillan might have had in trying to fulfill the potential they saw in their partnership the first time they joined forces back in 1983.

-Peter Lindblad