Never fathomed I could write a second book on any band but if there was one possible, that would be Black Sabbath, and if there was a way in and a way out, it would be this buckets-o’-fun FAQ series concept, a lively idea stuffed with elliptical ways to add richness to any tale of the tape. Why this worked, and why my enthusiasm never waned as I wrote rollickingly, is because I quickly found there was so much more to say beyond what is contained in my previous tome (Black Sabbath: Doom Let Loose—An Illustrated History), so many nooks and crannies of the band to mine for nuggets of trivia, not to mention the fact that massive developments have occurred since, namely the triumphant worldwide establishment, battle, and victory lap from a new band called Heaven & Hell, followed by the epic death of Ronnie James Dio, king among kings, all-round good guy for miles.
All of that is dealt with and more, through many (and only!) new personal interviews since my last book, plus a massive amount of freedom to pontificate and make lists and spout off and tell side-stories. What follows, then, is a surreptitious telling of the main story, complexly by pieces and by compartmentalized chapters, plus the tales beneath the skin, the goofy stuff us fans want to argue o’er, plus science, math, geography, social sciences, and maybe even a little gym class, given that we find out at the end of our trip about Tony boxing, Geezer skiing, and Ronnie running.
Like I say, it’s been a blast, because the band at hand, in all its decades-straddling variety, has always offered much music and a myriad of emotions. If you don’t like this singer, here’s another one, new era, new sound, solo diversions, the only constant being the crushing weight of Tony’s riffs.
Yep, been a Sabbath fan for, man, thirty-six, thirty-seven years, first scared and scarred by I dunno, a quick thrust and parry into Vol 4 and maybe Paranoid or Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, debut soon to follow. Weirdly, though, the most intense and egregious indoctrination would have been—I’ll never forget this—working on a school project for both days of a weekend, full days, flipping constantly in the background the four sides of We Sold Our Soul for Rock ’n’ Roll to the point of the babbling craziness of insane, furtive, scratchy repetition, to the point of the music getting between the muscle fibers of my spindly legs and pointless biceps, thirteen, fourteen at the time, and I’m sure I aced that project ’cos of my first-rate title pages. Sure, it was a “who cares” compilation, but there’s just something about the relentlessness of all those crusty yet monumental Sabbath tunes being drilled into me head over and over again that made that expansive rec room with the psychedelic black-and-white-circles wallpaper feel like the sweat lodge of a religious cult.
I was rehooked, or hooked in a more profound way than flashier, more pleasurable and conventional meetings with the records, and was thereafter slavering to buy every record upon release day, moment of delivery into our interior BC town of Trail or wherever, ever since, as moves for university and then work and life took me, it seems, bloody all over Canada.
Just a goofy personal story, that is, and yeah, not much more to say here other than an exhortation to all you headbangers to enjoy the spirit in which this book was written, more from a fanboy point of view, sometimes whimsical, sometimes obsessive, and less so conventionally biographical. Lots to debate, a few laughs, lots of the Sabs, and, most inspiringly, quite a few words direct from Ronnie as we wind down to the final three chapters and the closing of one big medieval door, and the opening, hopefully of another, for the mighty metal legend and energetic host with the most that is Ronnie.
Martin Popoff
November 2010