![]() And that is not a slight on Zeppelin indeed, it is a compliment. Sabbath, not Zeppelin, had more to do with establishing what came to be known (however lazily) as “heavy metal”. And despite all the silly mythmaking, the only thing demonic about this band was its proclivity for employing the musical tritone (also known as the Devil’s Interval) in its music. Earth is the opposite or air, the ground is not ethereal, and water turns it to mud if ever a band basked proudly and beautifully (and always unabashedly) in the mud, it is Sabbath. Earth, as the band was initially known in industrial Birmingham, England, is, incidentally, a much more appropriate word to associate with this very blue-collar and bruising band. Not only is this a damn (albeit not a crying) shame, it is enough to make one wish they had simply stuck with their original name. The all-too-easily disparaged (and, for the easily offended, objectionable) appellation Black Sabbath ensures that the band could never really be taken all that seriously. I wrote (in a piece I now notice went live on my father’s birthday last year, causing me to consider if larger forces are at work here) that the band’s name, which certainly caught people’s attention, also has always worked against them: A case could be made (and I have made it: ) that Sabbath is by far the most misunderstood and underrated band. ![]() No, the issue here is of and about the band Black Sabbath. Give this one a whirl and see if it doesn’t make almost everything you hear today, and a great deal of the good stuff from back in the day, sound safe, generic and half-ass: The point, then, is not that FM radio, for mostly understandable (if ceaselessly self-defeating) reasons, plays it safe and consistent that could be an entire discussion in and of itself. I think I’d drive off the road if I ever heard Neil Young’s “Powderfinger”, but at least when the firemen showed up to pull me from the wreckage I would have a smile on my face. Even with the acts who do get plenty of airtime (Yes, the Doors, Rush, Neil Young), it’s for the most part a surface-level shuffle of their half-dozen most successful and/or “popular” songs. Well, my old man does.) It’s not a quality issue if that were the case, we could discuss the dozens of bands who get little to no airplay (King Crimson, Captain Beefheart, and Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, to name a few). (The other issue, of course, is whether or not anyone actually listens to FM radio anymore. There are tons of Sabbath songs that could peacefully exist with the largely underwhelming and predictable numbers you hear every time you listen to the radio. But there are certainly plenty that could be.Īnd therein lies the rub. And other than “War Pigs”, I can’t think of another song that seems commercial enough for even a more progressive-minded classic rock station to consider. He could not confirm what song it was, and I remain intrigued, because I’m pretty certain he would recognize the first two songs. I dared to hope that maybe, somehow, some station had sagely determined that “War Pigs” would, in fact, be a very welcome addition to the heavy rotation so many other lesser songs enjoy on classic rock channels. ![]() I asked him what song he had heard, assuming it had to be “Iron Man” or “Paranoid”, as those are the only two Sabbath songs I’ve ever heard on the radio. “Arguably some of the best, instrument for instrument, in all of rock.” “But, I mean, they were seriously good musicians…” “Are you kidding? They were a great band.” “So I heard a Black Sabbath song on the radio the other day…they were actually a really good band, huh?” To my considerable delight, it was a question about Black Sabbath. To my considerable relief, it was a question about music. A “technical” question had to mean he was going to ask about computers, and I would have to remind him that, despite working closely with them for almost two decades, I probably know less about the inner workings and mechanics of these things than the average ten year old. I braced myself, prepared to disappoint him. Last night, quite out of the blue (or, out of the black, as the case may be), he said he had to ask me a “technical question.”
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