I should cough to something straight up: I was never a huge fan of Black Sabbath. Paranoid, their second album, is an undisputed banger, but aside from that I never really got deep into them. I might’ve chucked the odd song on a jukebox occasionally, but I never really sought them out as hard as most. Rightly or wrongly, I used to struggle with separating Sabbath from Ozzy’s post-Sabbath career. His solo stuff never really grabbed me; shorn of Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler’s songwriting prowess, it just felt diluted.
And let’s be honest with ourselves: The Osbornes was not good television. Laboured and forced, it gave the world Keeping up with the Kardashians - the televisual equivalent of an acid attack - and elevated Sharon Osborne to unacceptable levels of fame. I don’t ever want to know what a band’s manager looks like. You understand that this is not me kicking a grieving family while they’re down, I’m just laying it all out. For me, Ozzy’s post-Sabbath exploits somewhat shrouded the band. So the last couple of days, when people talked to me about Ozzy Osbourne passing away, I’d reply with “Yeah, I was never a massive fan actually.”
I was lucky to see Sabbath in 2014, supported by Motorhead, Faith No More and Soundgarden1, and it was a wonderful tick in my gig going career. I’ve got to be honest though, I was more excited about Motorhead and a reunited Faith No More. That said, when Sabbath came out and kicked into War Pigs, my soul dropped out of my arse. It was crystal clear I was experiencing something special. You just know, don’t you?
Ozzy’s passing hasn’t budged from my thoughts like I expected it to. Celebrity deaths work on a sliding scale depending on how important the individual is to you, and I always thought Ozzy was quite low on my own internal list. Then I saw the tributes rolling in, and I saw so many bands and artists that I adore sending heartfelt messages.
I spend a lot of time banging on about Britpop, but the first scene that truly grabbed me was grunge2. The beautiful bastard son of punk and heavy metal, grunge delivered down-tuned guitars, pounding drums, low slung basslines and angst-laden themes. It rolled out of Seattle in the early 90s and hooked its fingers into the soft meat of my teenage brain. It really only burned bright for a few years, but it’s been integral to my life ever since. Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, Screaming Trees - those cats still get poured into my earholes on a weekly basis.
Around the same time Seattle was blowing up, a gang of kids came out of Southern California with a rumbling, fearsome new sound, developed in the desert outside of town at impromptu gigs often called generator parties. They would set up, plug their amps into portable generators (hence the name), and play. Their then-teenage guitarist told Billboard:
…there's no clubs here, so you can only play for free. If people don't like you, they'll tell you. You can't suck.
That band was Kyuss. They too, burned brightly for only a few years before disbanding. Kyuss, along with bands like Fu-Manchu and Sleep, invented stoner rock, a genre that thrives to this day. That teenage guitarist grew up to be Josh Homme, lynchpin of Queens of the Stone Age, a band that has stood astride modern rock for nearly 30 years.
In San Francisco, avant garde post-punk act Faith No More recruited a new singer, a young prodigy named Mike Patton. They tweaked their sound and went stratospheric with third album, The Real Thing (on which they included a cover of War Pigs). Faith No More are my favourite band of all time, and Mike Patton has been a personal hero of mine since I was 14.
Down in LA, a four-man army named Rage Against the Machine released a demo tape that prompted a bidding war from several record labels. They signed with Epic Records, and that demo became their debut album. A debut album that a teenaged Lewis Holmes picked up in a Devon branch of Our Price while on holiday with his family. The memories of those sedate, picturesque towns and villages in North Devon are forever soundtracked by Zack de la Rocha screaming “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me” over and over. You can still hear Rage’s righteous anger in the music of 21st century UK acts like Gallows and Idles.
After toiling away for half a decade, lo-fi Massachusetts-based punks Dinosaur Jr overcame internal squabbles and scored a major label breakthrough with Where You Been. Second single Start Choppin’ remains one of those songs I retreat to in times of strife. Dinosaur Jr are a major influence on bands as diverse as My Bloody Valentine, Radiohead and Arab Strap.
Former Black flag frontman Henry Rollins formed The Rollins Band in the late 1980s. By '94, and after several line up changes, they had developed a unique alternative rock sound that fused Rollins’ barked punk vocals with heavy metal rhythms and jazz fusion flourishes. This version of the band released their biggest hit, Liar; a song that I used to be able to do from start to finish - although I never once found it on a karaoke machine. Rollins’ spoken/bellowed vocal style influenced nu-metal acts like System of a Down and Korn.
I started with a confession, now here’s another. I don’t even like traditional heavy metal all that much. Can take or leave Metallica, never got on with Judas Priest, will listen to Slayer and Anthrax but I’ll rarely seek them out. It’s all a bit frantic for me. There’s a couple of subgenres that are far more interesting. Stygian avenues like doom, sludge and groove - those are where you’ll find me wandering. Bluesier, slower, pulverising; rumbling over the horizon like a fucking earthquake. Bands like Melvins, White Zombie, Down. You want me banging my head? Then play that shit loud and proud, sister.
The sprawling, disparate alternative rock landscape of the 1990s - my fucking time and place, ladies and gentlemen - is littered with acts who cite Black Sabbath as a primary influence. Even if I, in my teenaged eagerness, may not have noticed at first glance. Sabbath, and their mercurial frontman, are the mighty oak that propagated these strange, wonderful new hybrids and offshoots.
From some time in the early 00s I existed in a musical bubble for about 15 years, reliant on an iPod Classic that contained my entire CD collection. When my trusty companion finally shat out on me (in the middle of the morning commute - the horror!), I bit the bullet and finally dove into streaming services. And my mind was blown all over again.
There’s kids out there, glorious Gen Zers who weren’t even born when I started moshing the pits, who are so clearly influenced by my old favourites, and they’re making music that I could’ve happily nodded along to all those years ago. Bands like Puppy, The Dirty Nil, The Mysterines, Tigress - all of them would’ve sounded perfectly at home blasting tinnily out of my Discman headphones. Budding saplings cut from those decades old propagations.
None of the above would exist without Sabbath. Their power and influence is fucking everywhere. They are Elvis, The Beatles, Bowie, Prince - only with a better, scarier movie collection. So these past few days, when people asked me about Ozzy’s passing and I replied ”Yeah, I was never a massive fan actually,” I was blatantly talking out of the side of my neck. I may not listen to Sabbath that much, but their fingerprints are all over the past 35 years of my life.
One of my favourite things to do - from early childhood right up to the here and now of middle age - is to throw a rock into a still body of water. It’s a simple, primal pleasure, a little act of rebellion, messing with the status quo but not harming anybody. The initial sploosh is alright and all, but really what I enjoy is watching the ripples roll out, tiny waves that might fluster a fish or fuck up a duck.
In my own dead still musical millpond, Sabbath and Ozzy were the rock that caused the splash. I definitely noticed that splash, however it was all those fucking ripples across the pond that I really felt, and that still reverberate even now. I am that fucked up duck and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Thank you Black Sabbath. RIP Ozzy.
Thanks for reading. Show my fragile ego some love before you go. Bang that like button before on the way out, or get involved in the comments if this piece landed well with you. If you’re feeling really flush, buy me a beer and I’ll love you forever. Cheers.
This turned out to be Soundgarden’s last ever UK gig. Chris Cornell passed away in May 2017.
A term everyone involved in the Seattle scene hates, but I’m not typing out ‘Seattle scene’ over and over. I’m not paid at all by the word.
I think that is a lovely 'not a tribute' tribute Lewis. You can't beat the energy of some of those bands. When I could run they were on my playlist. QOTSA put a spring in my step.
I really felt the Ipod moment in my heart, because mine is still working (and I hope for a while), but in the past few years, I turned to Spotify and got the same reaction, rediscovering the primal pleasures of classic rock and metal, seeking the connections, both with old soul, blues and funk, and contemporary punk/post grunge/new hard rock endeavours. And yes, Ozzy somehow at the centre of that happy web. Thanks for this cool post.