Track List
1. Hole in the Sky
2. Don't Start (Too Late)
3. Symptom of the Universe
4. Megalomania
5. Thrill of It All
6. Supertzar
7. Am I Going Insane (Radio)
8. Writ
Black Sabbath display a profusion of musical magic here, in an eclectic integration of idioms and influences, from basic blues motives, rocking rhythms, progressive structures, classical movements, the odd jazz fusion shade, and even a few freaky folksy references. From the vast grand operatic choral conception of "Supertzar", the Spanish acoustic echoes and textures of "Don't Start (Too Late)", the urgent insistancy of "Symptom Of The Universe", the indomitable weight of "Hole In The Sky", the psychedelic kook of "Am I Going Insane", and the iconic strains of "The Writ", we are entertained and enlightened by a bountiful innovation of crazy yet cunningly crafted composition.
At the heart of this is Tony Iommi's ever creative prismatic guitar. His detuned strings give a darkness and gravitas to the proceedings, while his catchy tuneful riffs sound instantly as defining paradigms of modern metal. Never gratuitous or flashy, he wields his considerable technique with style and class, always sympathetically supporting the overall conception.
Of course, these magical fantasias are fronted by the inimitable, the inexorable, the almost invincible Ozzy. There are singers with greater power, more certain tuning, or fuller ranges, but Mr Osbourne has an immediate lyricism that always appeals. Straight from the heart, devoid of pretension and affectation, he is the boy next door who arrogantly declared that he was going to be a superstar, and that his average talent and plain voice were going to be no barrier to his awesome ambition. In fact, his untrained, rough and ready delivery and harsh clarity are positive assets, as the average listener directly identifies with his colloquial emotionalism and ingenuous hubris.
These monumental proceedings are driven by the revving motor of Geezer Butler's ballsy bass. Incredibly tight, he doubles riffs and delivers simple counterpoints that always pull the grooves forward, importunately energising right on top of each beat. His rich ringing tone, again using de-tuned strings, adds depth to the ominous colours. He also contributes most of the poetry, which segues from flow of consciousness rambles through edge of sanity rants to prescient sociological introspections. Personal and universal, parochial and cosmic, epically dramatic yet particular and intimate, his words convey a gamut of concepts and feelings entirely congruous to this oeuvre.
Lastly we have the thumpy, drab, loosely plodding drums of Bill Ward. Although he perhaps lacks the pert precision and crisp attack of other drummers, his rumbling thuds fit perfectly into the aural picture, even though he tends to follow, rather than lead, the accents. Luckily the rest of the band, especially the bass, are so disciplined that this unusual arrangement works. However his choice of patterns is playfully inventive, and his execution full of verve and vitality, serving splendidly to compliment and complete this big, bad, bold band.
Overall the elements seamlessly gel together to create songs slickly structured enough to be easily memorable, yet with an organic looseness that gives a flavoured earthiness and unhurried heaviness to these rolling rhapsodies of sonic rapture and twisted tantrums of psychotic expression.