The End of the End?
Black Sabbath 13 Review

Text by Nathan Carson

It’s possible to make good heavy metal music and to hate the Beatles (though I wouldn’t recommend it.) It’s not realistic to play in a metal band and thoroughly dismiss Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, early Scorpions, Motörhead, or some era of Iron Maiden. Those are the building blocks upon which all have since constructed. You can argue with me on this, but it will be your ultimate loss because all of the aforementioned bands wrote Timeless Shit, and little that’s followed has been as crucial or as successful.

In the late ‘80s, it was popular to bash on Black Sabbath. It was schoolyard lore that they couldn’t play their instruments. Zeppelin were supposedly the better musicians and certainly the richer men. Metallica was faster and more modern. There was a lot of misinformed revisionist mythology going around. But then Grunge happened, and every band in that canon spoke loudly on record and interviews of being heavily influenced by Sabbath. All of a sudden the rough edges had value again. And eventually Sabbath heeded that call and came back to us.

In 1997, the Reunion happened. A live double CD set followed. And with it came two brand new songs—the first that Iommi, Butler, Ward, and Osbourne had produced together since their 1978 swansong Never Say Die. The reaction was mixed on the concerts, and relatively unanimous (not in a good way) on the radio single “Psychoman.” Ozzy was not in good form on this tour, and fans alternately reveled in Bill Ward’s good nights and chastised the entire band when he was off or on medical leave. Ward missed a lot of the reunion shows due to ill health. In fact, he had a heart attack before the tour began, and even when he was present on the road, there was another drummer being paid to wait behind a curtain in case he was needed.

Now let me pause for a moment here to say that I love Bill Ward as a drummer and a mythological figure. From every interview I’ve seen, he’s the sweetest man you could imagine. Along with Bonham, Moon, and Crover, he’s one of the greatest rock drummers to ever walk the Earth. His personal influence on my life and drumming cannot be discounted. And the night I saw him play with Black Sabbath on the 1999 leg of the Reunion tour brought me literally to tears. But I can certainly see how it was a very different experience for the other members of Black Sabbath.

When Ozzy was finally fired from Black Sabbath back in 1978, the dirty job was delegated to Bill Ward. He and Oz were friends, and it was assumed that the bad news would be best received from his mouth. At the time however, Ward was only in slightly better shape than Osbourne. His bouts with alcohol, drugs, and prescription pills were pretty legendary by the mid-80s. It’s a well-known bit of Sabbath lore that Ward recorded on the Heaven & Hell album in 1980, but retains absolutely no recollection of doing so.

By the time Mob Rules rolled around, Ward was out entirely, the throne occupied by Vinnie Appice. When Dio left after disputes that Iommi was sneaking in at night to turn up the guitars on the mix of their Live Evil album, Appice also fled the sinking ship and sailed into glory with Ronnie James. Ward found himself back for the Born Again album with Ian Gillan (which really is their last great record until Dio and Appice returned for Dehumanizer in ’92), but only rejoined the group sporadically for the remainder of Sabbath’s career. That is, until the official Reunion in late 1997.

By the time Ward returned to Sabbath, he had not made a lot of big career moves. The Bill Ward band released an album called Along the Way in 1990, which got a little bit of attention thanks to a cameo from Ozzy. It’s actually a pretty cool record, but it does beg the question: do you own this album? Did you even know about it?

While Ozzy was writing multi-platinum discs and touring the world, Iommi was dragging Sabbath’s name through the muck, and Geezer Butler was ping-ponging between those two projects. Meanwhile, Ward was–among other things–a high school guidance counselor.

With significantly less miles under his belt than the other three members, Ward was admitted back into Sabbath for the Reunion, then proceeded to have a heart attack before the first show. Though he performed on the shows recorded for the Reunion album in 1997, he had to be replaced by Mike Bordin of Faith No More for all but two of the gigs in 1998.

Reunion is primarily a live record, but each CD contains one new studio cut. “Psychoman” is a hint at how Sabbath perceived itself in its original lineup at the cusp of the millennium. It rocks, but admittedly sounds both forced and rushed. At the time, Iommi was quoted that he preferred not to make a new album unless it was on par with their first three records. That had many of us convinced that they would never even bother.

The other new track was called “Selling My Soul.” Remember that one? No? Well, it’s not a terrible track. But it is only about three minutes long. And the drum part was performed by a machine because Ward was reportedly unable to keep time.

What I’m trying to get at is this: as much as I love Ward, as much as he seems like a genuine human being and a visionary percussionist, he just wasn’t reliable. If I played in a band with a guy who needed to be replaced by a machine in the studio, and by a session player on stage, and someone who simply wasn’t investing in his instrument and career on the same level as the rest of the band, I too might not want to share 25% of the proceeds and glory with such a fellow, regardless of his disposition.

Don’t get me wrong—I do not prefer Ward’s replacement in this scenario either. Brad Wilk is a fine, fine drummer. But I never liked a note of Rage Against the Machine. I’ve done my best to pretend that Audioslave never existed. The fact that Wilk was the compromise is a sincere bummer. Why couldn’t the band have hired Tommy Aldridge, Ginger Baker, Jason Bonham, anyone from their era or homeland or position of prestige and experience? It’s a fucking drag, and it’s one of the biggest reasons that folks don’t even want to give 13 a chance.

When Black Sabbath came out on 11/11/11 with their big announcement that it was all the original members, people were excited. I can’t say I had much faith in Ozzy, but Iommi and Butler had just knocked it out of the park with the Heaven & Hell band. And if you’re not keeping 2009 masterwork The Devil You Know in heavy rotation, you’re doing it wrong. That is truly the best Black Sabbath album since the 70s. But it’s always going to remain in the shadows thanks to the brilliant legal loophole that the Osbourne’s lawyers wove into the reunion contract.

Despite the fact that Tony Iommi was the one man to never quit or be fired from Black Sabbath, although he kept using the name for album after album into the mid-90s, he was no longer legally allowed to use it following the 1998 reunion unless Ozzy was involved. But for over a decade, Ozzy was busy with his television show, his lackluster solo albums and repeated last-ever-final-see-me-now-or-never-ever-ever tours. And so Iommi got tired of waiting, made amends with Dio, and reactivated Black Sabbath.

In 2007, Iommi, Butler, Dio, and Appice released three brand new tracks (two great ones) as bonus material on Rhino Records’ The Dio Years anthology under the name Black Sabbath. You may notice that Bill Ward was not invited to that party either. A lot of folks want to believe that Ozzy and Sharon are the greedy gargoyles responsible for Ward being ousted from the 13 album and tours. But hmm, in 2007 he was MIA again.

Ok Sharon and Ozzy are in fact greedy gargoyles. Let’s not pretend otherwise. They shut down this particular version of Sabbath with a cease & desist & “our lawyers will feed your lawyers to starving children in third world countries” efficiency. With the risk of killing off a highly functioning unit, Iommi and co hastily renamed the group Heaven & Hell, and then proceeded to record and tour.

The resulting album was 2009 doom metal masterpiece The Devil You Know. I smacked my forehead in disbelief when I read reviews of this album that dismissed it as “slow, turgid, and doomy.” Since when is doom metal not monotonous? The songs on this album are slow, apocalyptic, and evil, one after another after another. It’s a fantastic example of what a really mature metal band is capable of when egos and financial speculation are removed from the picture. Truly, it’s one of the purest visions of unadulterated heavy metal in the 21st century. And because it bore a name other than the one it deserved, it sank out of sight like a stone.

When I saw the band live in 2010, the venue was half full at best. Lucky for me, it was the one show of the entire US tour in which the support was not Coheed & Cambria. The night I saw them was a one-off in Seattle with Neurosis. Yes, I saw Black Sabbath and Neurosis, and most of my friends stayed home to save 75 bucks. What a supreme loss they felt when Dio passed a matter of months later.

There was almost no way that 13 could compete artistically with The Devil You Know. I was well aware of that in advance, and prepared for the disappointment brought by Ozzy and his committee of puppeteers. When 13 finally came out in the US on June 11, I drove to my favorite record store in Portland – 2nd Avenue Records – and picked up the double vinyl the day it was released. And damn was I pleasantly surprised.

Now I did have some idea what to expect. The album’s single, “God Is Dead” was released while I was on tour in Europe in April/May 2013. In fact, I had the pleasure of visiting and performing in Birmingham, England, while the song was in heavy rotation. There was something really magical about being in Sabbath’s hometown and hearing their new tune being played on the radio, hourly. I imagine that’s how it feels to be in Cleveland or Toronto when a new Rush album drops.

“God Is Dead” is a pretty impressive return to form. Yes, it’s consciously retro Sabbath. No, Bill Ward is not with us. But otherwise, Ozzy is not embarrassing himself; Wilk is doing his job without overstepping his bounds; and Iommi and Butler are absolutely delivering. It’s heavy as hell, and almost nine minutes long. Not exactly what one could easily peg as a sellout maneuver.

When I turn on popular rock radio, I do not hear music like “God Is Dead.” Most of what Clear Channel programs for us is a host of sure things from the past, from artists who paid their dues, jumped through hoops, and are being rewarded in retirement or the afterlife for playing a good game. A select few like Tom Petty or John Fogerty get their new songs played on classic rock radio alongside “Hotel California” and “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” Focusing on actual new chart hits, I couldn’t begin to tell you. Big Time Rush and Yeezus simply do not write songs that I want to hear. “God Is Dead” is pretty damn good fare for a brand new recording in rotation on popular radio, and stands out on every level.

This was the first track, and the first target. Now that new music (sans Ward) had been revealed, it was time for the first crowd-sourced potshots. The vocals were “mixed too loud”. The lyrics were corny. It sounded more like solo Ozzy than classic Sabbath. Bill Ward was being cheated. I don’t really agree with any of these criticisms.

The first thing I noticed was that Ozzy wasn’t singing through Auto-Tuner. Ever since he’d first employed the technology (and Ozzy was certainly the first singer I ever heard use it) back on 1995’s Ozzmosis, it’s sounded awful to me. Rick Rubin got Ozzy off the Auto-Tune teat. That’s almost like saying that he got him to put down the bottle or to quit pissing his pants. Also, the song rocks and is well recorded, crafted, and composed.

There are thousands of bands mining the ore that Sabbath once wrought. Can you think of any with as good a guitarist? How about a bass player as good as Geezer? Or a drummer as talented as Wilk? Or with a singer as charismatic as Ozzy? Or with the songwriting skills and craftsmanship of these four with a world class production courtesy of Rick “Slayer/Danzig/Public Enemy” Rubin? No, most bands would kill to operate on this level, or produce material of this quality. I hear you balking, but please, stay with me.

The new album 13 opens with “End of the Beginning.” This is another tune over eight minutes in length, and crushingly heavy. The lyrics are a bit more clever than the poetry you wrote you in high school, and smack of wisdom hard won through experience. Perhaps that’s because they (like most of Sabbath’s lyrics) were written by bassist Geezer Butler—a man with a high school education, a lot of book reading, and a life filled with peaks beyond most of our imaginations.

For my money, “End of the Beginning” is probably the best song on the record. Apparently somebody else agreed, as there’s no more modern formula than to front-load an album with the best track first. If you don’t lure in the listener right away, you may never have them. The true denouement of this song isn’t until the end of the entire record, but we’ll get to that later. Suffice to say, the best riff in this song is the last one. Iommi repeatedly finds ways to save the best for last, and end on the most heavy and epic note possible.

Next up is the single, “God Is Dead.” My one real qualm with this song is that the lyric is a bit of a cop out. When I first heard the title, it sounded heavy. And when Ozzy laments “God is dead,” it has a serious impact. But by the end, he’s singing, “I don’t believe that God is dead.” A bit weak, wouldn’t you say? It’s a controversial title and chorus, severely under-mined in application. But hey, maybe it will keep those protective mothers from burning records and putting hexes on these nice boys from Birmingham.

On Side Two, things change. Yes, I’m listening to this record on vinyl, the way it was intended. Maybe a lot of kids in the ‘70s also listened to Black Sabbath on 8-track, but I don’t see that format being offered here. So as far as I’m concerned, the right way to listen to this album is on vinyl, in front of big wood cabinet speakers, with a freshly loaded bong. If you’re evaluating or condemning this album bone sober over tiny computer speakers, you’re not really showing a great deal of respect, are you?

Track three is called “Loner.” It’s an ode to all the lonely, outcast, misunderstood, burnout Black Sabbath fans. That’s really 99% of their fan base, and apparently they know it. When John Darnielle wrote his 33 1/3 series novella about Master of Reality, he recognized this too, and made the main character in his book just such a loser, locked in a psych ward, yearning for his Sabbath tape.

What’s really cool about “Loner” is how much the main riff recalls the blatant underachiever vibe of the Technical Ecstacy era. It’s clear that the same man who wrote “All Moving Parts (Stand Still)” and “Gypsy” penned this tune. It even recalls something Dave Chandler of Saint Vitus might have come up with around the time of Children of Doom. At 2:12 the sleaziest riff on the entire record slinks in, bringing images of this “loner” kids cruising the gut after midnight with bleary eyes, drinking Sparks, eventually sleeping solo in his room above his parents’ garage.

Finishing Side Two is “Zeitgeist.” This song is my one personal complaint on the whole album. There’s actually nothing particularly wrong with it. But one of the primary criticisms folks have leveled at 13 is that each song seems to correspond pretty directly to another from Sabbath’s back catalog. I would argue that most of the songs are no more referential here than might be expected. Since when should a band that invented a genre not be allowed to rip itself off? What if—gasp–a new Kraftwerk album sounded like an old Kraftwerk album? There’s no doubt that if Sabbath had come out with an entirely new, updated, 21st century sound, literally everyone would hate it.

But “Zeitgeist” may be both the safest and laziest move here as it’s so clearly “Planet Caravan” mark II. From the bongos and classical guitars to the kooky outer space lyrics, it’s an exercise. Sure, it breaks up the flow of an otherwise very heavy album. It also reflects on they way the band arranged its classic albums with tunes like “Solitude,” “Embryo,” “Changes,” and “Laguna Sunrise.” There were always mellow Sabbath tunes, and most of them were great. This one is simply a copy of perhaps the twenty-fifth best Sabbath song and the very best Pantera song. Sorry Phil.

Side Three kicks off with “Age of Reason” – a seven minute slab of doom that sounds like a hybrid of Volume IV and Heaven & Hell. I should note here that throughout this album, Iommi’s leads are absolutely top notch. Perhaps it’s because instrumentalists like him don’t really get worse as they get older. The years are much harder on singers and drummers, much more physically demanding instruments. The other factor is that while recording this album, Iommi was undergoing treatment for lymphoma. There was a very real possibility that this would be his final album, and he’d just watched Cancer silence good friend Ronnie James Dio. So while there is a certain sterility to the recording overall, the leads sound very much alive—leaping out of the speakers—a conduit from wicked modern metal to classic selling-your-soul “Crossroads” blues.

Next up is “Live Forever,” another apocalyptic doom track concerned with no lighter subject than mortality. Younger bands could never get away with a lyric like “I don’t wanna live forever, but I don’t wanna die.” Somehow when it’s being sung by sextagenarians, it carries the weight it deserves. It’s also cool that the faster groove in this song shares a certain cadence with “Johnny Blade” off Never Say Die.

“Damaged Soul” is a blues number that accentuates the band’s patented 6/8 swing. The production reminds the listener that Rick Rubin famously worked with the Black Crowes. It’s here that the harmonica finally comes out. And right at 3:51, Iommi is playing with such spirit that he flubs a note and leaves it in the song. It’s one of the most magical moments on the album and really underscores that this really is just four guys making music. As produced as it is, there’s no keyboard, no backing choir, and no guest rappers.

The last song on 13 is “Dear Father,” another mournful dirge that would have fit somewhere in the various Dio eras, or could have been the closer on an Ozzy solo album. If you like “Disturbing the Priest” from Born Again, skip right to this track. It’s gruesome and grungy and unrelenting in its darkness. Toward the halfway point, it kicks up into a “Children of the Grave” style gallop before descending back into the tar pit. And (spoiler alert!) it ends with the sound of rain and church bells, bringing us full circle to the “End of the Beginning” and to the original song “Black Sabbath” from their eponymous debut on Feb 13, 1970. Clever, poetic, a bit stupid—in other words–pure Sabbath.

All in all, 13 is a helluva record. It’s telling that Tony Iommi thanks Rick Rubin in the liner notes “…for producing this record and for his insight in what it should be.” While any of us can sit around and speculate about what this album could or should have been, this is what we have. I don’t believe anyone sets out to write a doom metal album with chart success in mind. None of these guys really need the money. 13 was made as a final monument to one of the all time great rock careers that was stifled too many times by booze, bad business, and worse luck.

The band had been flirting with Rick Rubin since 2000, knowing full well that he’s a master at putting wind in the sails (and in the sales) of artists in the later stages of their career. I’m no Death Magnetic fan, but it’s clearly more vital than St Anger. As revisionism goes, the American Recordings album series that Rubin helped Johnny Cash lay down before the Man in Black died is all class. Rubin possesses the skill to focus on what is great and mythic about a band, and to help the band recognize that. Seeing yourself from the outside is difficult for any of us, and even more so for superstars with decades of lousy reviews and millions of adoring fans.

If you’ve read this far and you’re still gutted that Bill Ward wasn’t on the record, well, I’m with you. Maybe the other guys feel that way too, because all three of them thanked Bill pretty sincerely in the liner notes. Brad Wilk certainly did an ace job as “guest musician / drums & percussion.” He plays well and safely throughout the record. And I can’t blame him for doing his job, but there are risks Ward used to take that gave the songs dynamics and life. His off-the-rails hybrid of blues, jazz, and rock was truly inspired. There are tom rolls on 13 that are so precise that my ears yearn for the sound of an accidental rim shot, or two sticks clicking together, or that weird little one-off cowbell tone heard when Ward accidentally hit a mic in “The Wizard.” But I also believe that if Ward had been involved, this album would have taken a long time to record, and we wouldn’t have it now. Or maybe ever.

But there’s still hope. Ward is alive. The fans have spoken. Many voiced their opinion online (the Facebook fan page “No Bill Ward, No Black Sabbath has 595 members.) But in the real universe, people came out in droves, buying enough copies of 13 to push it to #1 in the UK—the first time the band has topped their homeland charts since Paranoid came out in 1970. And as of June 19, 2013, Sabbath dethroned Queens of the Stone Age for the number one spot in the US. That’s a first for Sabbath or even Ozzy. And it’s a good sign that dark, occult-themed metal can overcome all obstacles. Satan’s sitting there, he’s smiling.

In Greek mythology, the Titans begat the gods. The way people talk about 13 makes me feel like the Titans awoke after thousands of years and stormed up Mount Olympus to show off their lightning. And the people said, “Big deal. Zeuss pisses lightning three times a week.” Perhaps these people don’t understand the rules of de-evolution. Or entropy. The nature of the universe is that things get worse, and energy dissipates into nothing. When that doesn’t happen, it’s a bit miraculous.

When Eric Clapton or the Rolling Stones put out a new album of soft-core tracks for baby boomers, I’m not interested. But when Priest brought Halford back in 2005 for the Angel of Retribution album, that was fucking impressive work. In 2012, Rush wrote a 66 minute concept album called Clockwork Angels that is creatively on par with anything they’ve ever done, and heavy as hell to boot. This is the company that 13 belongs in, alongside other traditional doom masterpieces of the 21st century—2005’s eponymous Candlemass (the best reunion album I’ve ever heard), and 2009’s The Devil You Know by Black Sab—I’m sorry—Heaven & Hell.

13 is not perfect. It’s not the all time masterpiece, nor the crown jewel in Sabbath’s catalog. But considering the popular music of today, and the number of lousy Sabbath albums that came out between 1984 and 1995 (seriously, check out Ice T’s cameo on “The Illusion of Power” off Forbidden), this is firmly in the better half of their catalog. If this album had come out any year between 1979 and 1991, it would be considered one of THE classic Black Sabbath albums. But now, I guess we just know too much. Our idols are puppets for our amusement. We love to raise them up and then cast them down.

I love Black Sabbath. Their music has changed my life on all sorts of levels. I own all their albums, including the bad ones. I never thought I’d see those four guys on stage together, and in 1999 it happened. Never thought the band would make another album—and certainly not one that sounded so much like the band I grew up with. 13 years after it was promised, here it is. Cue thunderclouds and church bells.

Special thanks to Erik Highter and Robert Ham for their two cents, and to my girlfriend Sivonna West for buying the 13 LP for me as an early birthday present.