Black Sabbath is rock music’s greatest accident. Forty-four years ago John Michael “Ozzy” Osbourne chanced upon Tony Iommi, hands disfigured in a factory, playing heavy blues to give hippies chills. I, along with countless others, feel eternally grateful for rock music’s lapse of judgment. Rock’s history and future is inconceivable without Sabbath’s influence. The band (minus original drummer Bill Ward, replaced by Rage Against The Machine skinsman Brad Wilk) is 35 years wiser since booze near killed them on Never Say Die! With sage Rick Rubin behind the desk, what can go wrong? In short: nothing does. Nevertheless, there’s something achingly lacking.
Ozzy’s soulless snarl is central to 13, as is Iommi’s wicked, cathedral-shaking riffs. A style demanding their humanity circle the drain, forever. Whether Ozzy caterwauls “Is God Dead?” nigh on a million times or absently ponders “Is this the beginning of the end?” or vice versa like a brooding teen, there’s a unshakeable feeling Ozzy doesn’t truly need Black Sabbath and the Butler/Iommi combo doesn’t really need him.
13 is a collection of dusted-off set pieces. We’re stomped on by the monstrousness of NIB here (Loner), dizzied by psychedelic airs and bongo-hits (Zeitgeist) there. Live Forever owes much to the headbanging arena metal of their equally thrilling Ronnie James Dio (RIP) era. Iommi cleaves up piles of bluesy Hendrix-style chops in barnstormer Damaged Soul. These far between treasures wow like a firecracker. Once the fuse ignites, it’s all over. What it’s padded with drags, making listening tiresome. If 13 is one-shot or the opening of a 21st Century Sabbath saga, it won’t set the world on fire.
BY TOM VALCANIS
Best Track: Live Forever
If You Like These, You’ll Like This: LED ZEPPELIN, DEEP PURPLE, GHOST
In A Word: Doomed
