BLACK SABBATH: LIVE EVIL (1982)
1) E5150; 2) Neon Knights; 3)
N.I.B.; 4) Children Of The Sea; 5) Voodoo; 6) Black Sabbath; 7) War Pigs; 8) Iron
Man; 9) The Mob Rules; 10) Heaven And Hell; 11) Sign Of The Southern
Cross/Heaven And Hell (cont.); 12) Paranoid; 13) Children Of The Grave; 14)
Fluff.
Two strange things, both marked with the tags
«Black Sabbath» and «live», happened prior to the release of Live Evil. The first was Live At Last, a compilation of old live
recordings with Ozzy from 1973, released in 1980 without the band's consent by
their former manager Patrick Meehan. The recordings were all right, actually,
but since the band originally decided not to use them, Tony was understandably
pissed off about the incident. Second, in early 1982 Ozzy, going through his
batshit-and-doveshit crazy stage, decided to release a solo live album that
consisted of nothing but Sabbath songs, and Tony was understandably pissed off
about that Brad Gillis guy trampling on his classic riffs.
So, operating in vengeful mode, Tony gave the
green light to the release of Black Sabbath's first «proper» / «officially
sanctioned» live album — one on which Ronnie James Dio would have the right to
not only sing new material, but the old classics as well. Naturally, this would
have to be a double album (what with the band's impressive backlog and all),
and naturally, it would have to prove, once and for all, who was the real master of his domain.
Unfortunately, the album polarized the audience in a way that Heaven And Hell could not — up to this
day, the debate about whether or not Ronnie should or should not have put his
mark on Ozzy-era classics is still raging like there was no tomorrow. Then
again, it is always pleasant to see just how much Black Sabbath still lives on
in the hearts of the old and the young alike.
One thing that Live Evil does show, quite obviously, is that Ronnie was no Ozzy
when it came to establishing the share of one's presence in the band. Ozzy,
when on stage, always seemed a little (or a lot) stoned, seriously enthusiastic
about the music, but also mindful of the fact that he was only one out of four
— a fact that was all too easy to be mindful of since those four guys started
off together as equals. Ronnie, on the other hand, clearly viewed the stage —
just as it was in the old Rainbow days — as a battlefield, where the winner
took it all. And subsequently, Live Evil
is all about Ronnie James Dio. The
stage banter. The singing, so loud it occasionally drowns out Tony's metal
guitar (!). The incessant ad-libbing and posturing, often performed on top of
Tony's classic riffs, so that anybody who has the misfortune of choosing this
album for an introduction to the Sabbath sound will know the band as «the one
with that Valhalla guy» rather than the world's most amazing riff machine
provider.
But you know what? I don't care, and you
shouldn't either. I find Ronnie's big ego, so amusing to behold in such a tiny
body, at worst hilarious, and at best awesomely overpowering. Yes, every once
in a while you get the urge to strangle the little guy, especially when he is
wailing right on top of the ʽBlack Sabbathʼ tritones. Yet he seems so sincere,
passionate, and ferocious in his stage attitude that anything can be forgiven.
Of course, the difference between Ronnie and Ozzy is heaven and earth (heaven
and hell?), but there is at least one additional justification for Ronnie's
almost grotesque «oversinging» on the classics — to tell the truth, all those
early Geezer lyrics are so atrocious that you either have to be Ozzy to sing
them in an appropriately stoned manner, or, if you are Ronnie, you just have to add a twist and a flourish to
each word so that the listener be overwhelmed by the twists and flourishes
rather than be stumped by the idiocy of it all.
To that end, Ronnie delves into ʽN.I.B.ʼ with
such abandon as if he really were
Lucifer, or at least that werecat creature that Michael Jackson turns into in
the ʽThrillerʼ video. The performance is so over the top that it is frighteningly
hilarious one minute, and then hilariously frightening in the next one — he's
really ripping the throats out of those words. When we get to ʽBlack Sabbathʼ,
instead of Ozzy's paranoid madman we see a genuinely possessed spirit, somebody
who's sold his soul to the devil not one hour ago. And who but Ronnie could
growl the "I AM IRON MAN" bit without
the special metal effect on the vocals and it would still come out ironish?
Just to experience that guy sweat it out is... quite an experience, and I see
no reason whatsoever to stand firmly on any one side of the debate. Of course,
those are interpretations, and one has no more reason to listen to Ronnie sing
ʽWar Pigsʼ or ʽChildren Of The Graveʼ than to, say, Ray Charles sing
ʽYesterdayʼ or Paul McCartney sing ʽWords Of Loveʼ — but in all these cases, a
certain reason does exist, and what Dio does to these Ozzy songs looks
perfectly legit to me.
Probably the only grave misfire is ʽParanoidʼ,
a song that Black Sabbath Mark II still felt obliged to perform before the
expecting fans but also one which, with its speedy melody and personal lyrics,
simply could not yield to a Dio reinterpretation. He simply does not know what
to do with the song, whose tempo gives him no time to properly savor any of the
syllables, and delivers it in the usual devilish growl, well fit for every
other tune but not for ʽParanoidʼ.
Then again, it's just three minutes, and you really can't call yourself Black
Sabbath and not do ʽParanoidʼ in a
Black Sabbath live show, Ronnie or no Ronnie, so we will just have to live with
that.
As to what concerns the new material from Heaven And Hell and Mob Rules, it is usually done in close
accordance with the originals — ʽHeaven And Hellʼ being the big exception, as
it was restructured in order to spotlight Tony's numerous soloing exercises. He
plays lots of alternately «brutal» and «melodic» passages, none of which defy
imagination, but he's got enough craftsmanship and he never sticks around one
particular key for too long to induce boredom, so I guess that ʽHeaven And
Hellʼ, with its leisurely pace and adaptable structure, is indeed the best
choice to «feature Mr. Tony Iommi». The rest mostly feature Mr. Ronnie James
Dio, always eager to prove that it is his
apocalyptic vision, and nobody else's, that is now the dominant force in this
band. Oh, for the record, ʽN.I.B.ʼ does not
feature the introductory solo by Mr. Geezer Butler (so much for the «Geezer
Butler!» introduction from Ronnie), but ʽWar Pigsʼ does feature an unnecessary drum solo from Mr. Vinny Appice, Bill
Ward's replacement and a somewhat weak link in this show, but not so much
because of poor playing (the playing's ok) as rather because of a fairly tinny
sound to the drums, so that it is hard to take them seriously.
Speaking of which, the album itself allegedly went
through a whole series of transformations, not the least of which was the
infamous rumor that Dio was secretly tweaking the final mixes in order to bring
his voice even more to the front — a
rumor that he violently denied but which I personally have no trouble
believing, and which added to the ongoing rift between him and Iommi. Later on,
the album was released on CD in abridged form, then reinstated, then remixed
with either more or less audience interaction (I don't remember which), then
reinstated again, but I guess that,
one way or the other, I am listening to the «real thing» in the end, whatever
«real» might be. In any case, Live Evil
certainly deserves a thumbs up, despite the mucking-up of ʽParanoidʼ,
the tin drums, and the abysmal front cover which, if I am correct, actually
tries to depict the protagonists of Black Sabbath songs — I'm sure I recognize
the war pigs, but is that an Iron Man or a Neon Knight in front? Or an amalgam
of both? Whatever. Gimme a Bill Ward in tights and an Ozzy in platform shoes
over this cartoonishness any time of day.
Made in Japan is the standard I compare every live album to. Alas Live Evil pales. To my taste the band relies way too much on experience and professionalism. For me a live album of a hardrock or heavy metal band only works when experience and professionalism are in service of energy and aggression. The latter is seriously lacking here. Then I prefer the studio versions of the songs. What sense does a live album make if the band doesn't try to kick my ass from here to Tokyo?
ReplyDeleteThe production doesn't help either. Made in Japan makes me feel as if the musicians are playing for me personally. When listening to Live Evil I'm feeling as if I'm sitting on the back row. As a result I struggle to hold up my attention.
A near contemporary example that succeeds is No Sleep 'til Hammersmith; and I'm not even a fan of Motorhead. A remarkable failure for the same reason is We Want Moore. When performing with Colosseum II and with Greg Lake Gary Moore did display all the energy. His version of 21st Century Schizoid Man is scorching.
So my favourite live recording of the Sabsters is the show in Paris 1970. There and then the guys were determined to impress and convince.
"whose tempo gives him no time to properly savor any of the syllables"
Oh come on, Kill the King and Light in the Black (live versions are bootlegged on YouTube) are faster than Paranoid and Dio totally could do it. The second reason is the one. He is simply not capable of expressing the mental deficiency that belongs to the song. There is a precedence. I have always disliked Mistreated version On Stage, mainly because Dio sings it flatly. Only on the version from Munich 1977 Dio displays the dispair the song demands.
That's a Neon Knight in the foreground; the Iron Man is all the way in the back, just to the left of the War Pig's head.
ReplyDeleteI love that the audience is mixed so oddly distant. It always puts me in mind of thousands of people cowering in fear behind stone barriers, hundreds of miles away from the actual cataclysmic nuclear event that was the concert itself. If you remember the storyline concerning the group Disaster Area in Douglas Adam's "The Restaurant At The End Of The Universe", you'll get what I mean.
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