A Fresh Listen: "Fumes" Albums (Part II)
Revisiting and reconsidering the albums from bands fighting their own headwinds
A little while ago, we went back and discussed a couple albums that found a pair of hard rock legends out of gas and essentially fighting for their own existence. These “fumes” records bore the weight of exhaustion, but there were still moments of inspiration scattered throughout the muck, and in one case the record turned out to be a hidden gem.
Renegade and Making Contact were far from the only albums made under stressful circumstances, and also not the only ones to have more than a few redeeming qualities. The first series explored how two UK icons slugged their way through the early ‘80s; these next couple records came out in the back half of the ‘70s, which proved to be an era of duality: putting aside the whole punk thing, there were upstarts like Rainbow, Thin Lizzy and Judas Priest that released career-defining (and in at least two cases, genre-defining) albums, while somewhere in London a young bassist named Steve Harris had decided to call his latest group Iron Maiden. But while these acts were setting the stage for remarkable careers that would ultimately shape the look, sound and approach of heavy metal for decades to come, two legendary bands were suddenly on the ropes…
Led Zeppelin, Presence (1976)
The Backstory
Although seemingly every last corner of Led Zeppelin’s career has been extensively covered and remastered, it’s still rather remarkable how, after years of world domination and generally pillaging and conquering everything that came in their path, it all pretty much stopped dead in its tracks in 1976.
It was a sudden and strange turnaround, because Zeppelin was still very much at their peak commercially and creatively: Physical Graffiti was another blockbuster (though in hindsight, perhaps that was the first sign that something was off, since about half the double album was leftovers from earlier album sessions) and the band had recently marauded through the US (with an additional 5-night run at London’s Earl’s Court) accordingly. But then Robert Plant got seriously injured in a car accident, so much so that not only was the rest of the 1975 tour cancelled, but Plant remained wheelchair-bound for most of the year. Faced with unplanned downtime, Jimmy Page decided to move forward with a new studio record, meeting with Plant while he recovered in Malibu to write before eventually reconvening with John Paul Jones and John Bonham in Hollywood to rehearse the new material.
But even though the band theoretically had an extended stretch of downtime, Presence was recorded and mixed in just 18 days, by far the shortest amount of time Zeppelin ever spent on a studio album (only their first record took less time to make). And with Plant far less engaged in the process, Page essentially white-knuckled through the sessions by working 18-20 hour days, insisting on recording at Munich’s Musicland studios (which the Rolling Stones had already booked) due to his belief that Musicland had the best equipment.
As a result, the record ultimately known as Presence was both underwritten and overthought: there was a strange dryness to the production that stood in stark contrast to the fullness of every other Zeppelin record, but at the same time tunes like “Nobody’s Fault But Mine” and especially “Achilles Last Stand” had an army of guitars. But most of all, for the first time the band didn’t sound completely in sync: the disconnect between the members was palpable, as was the sense that they didn’t entirely want to be there. It was as if the sudden downtime gave everyone- especially Plant- a chance to step back and take stock, but instead of recharging and coming back stronger everything collapsed under its own weight. It was one thing for “For Your Life” to look askance at coked-out record execs, but Zep sounded just as disgusted with themselves. And while “Royal Orleans” and “Candy Store Rock” were hardly their first flippant toss-offs, neither sounded like anyone was having fun. And with “Tea for One” ending the whole thing with an extremely lengthy blues dirge, Presence presented a version of Led Zeppelin with all of their light and shade and plenty of their power, but almost none of their glory.
How did it all turn out?
Presence was unquestionably a hit, topping album charts all over the world and selling over 3 million copies in the US. But by Zeppelin standards, 3 million records sold was a major step down, and it was ultimately their lowest-selling studio album. And due to the severity of Plant’s injuries, they didn’t really tour the record until 1977, a full year after the album’s original release, by which point it was already largely forgotten by everyone including apparently the band themselves, as only “Achilles Last Stand” and “Nobody’s Fault But Mine" were regularly played in concert.
To be fair, that 1977 North American run was indisputable commercial success, selling out multiple nights in arenas and stadiums. But the feeling of exhaustion and general bad vibes lingered on tour- the band still pillaged and gave fans epic setlists, but nobody seemed to be enjoying themselves and fans noticed- for the first time Zeppelin wasn’t garnering stellar reviews for their live prowess. And while Plant maintains to this day that Presence is one of his favorite Zeppelin records, the entire experience was enough for everyone to take another lengthy step back, but this time for real: instead of rushing to make another album, the guys actually took real time off before reconvening for what would be one last record. But that is a whole other chapter…
But was it really that bad?
As was said many many times in the preceding paragraphs, a sense of burnout and malaise permeated almost every note on Presence: nobody could deny that this wasn’t Zeppelin in anything resembling top form. But even so, in its better moments there was still something innately compelling: “Achilles Last Stand” was a remarkable “lion in winter” epic that not only felt much shorter than its 10-minute runtime, but also essentially invented Iron Maiden via John Paul Jones’ galloping bass. This was one of the few moments where the entire band sounded fully in sync, with Page’s wall of guitars creating an army of sound while John Bonham’s drumming did as much to tell the story as Plant’s weary yet resolute wordsmithing. And it came through on stage- it was incredibly telling that even as they were playing massive stages, during “Achilles Last Stand” they would essentially just huddle around each other.
Admittedly, although nothing else on Presence (not even “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”, which remains the only track from the record casual fans even know about) came close to capturing the same magic, Zeppelin remained in a class of its own- not exactly too big to fail, but everything they did had a fascination to it, and Presence more than any of their other records lends itself to reexamination and rediscovery. As closed off as “For Your Life” and “Tea for One” were, Page’s meticulousness ensured that each listen would reveal something else going on in the grooves. Alongside the inherent majesty in anything Zeppelin touched, this made Presence one of those records that really invited closer examination, and subsequent listening does reveal an intriguing glimpse into the psyche of a band that was tired and maybe a little bored with being king.
Rating: 3.5/5
Black Sabbath, Never Say Die! (1978)
The Backstory
This series was originally going to consider Technical Ecstasy, but while that record was a confused mess, the band (or Tony Iommi, at least) was actually aiming for something, misguided as it may have been. But there was no disguising the fact that Black Sabbath was at the end of their tether when it came time to record the follow-up.
Pretty much everything was working against Sabbath in the late ‘70s: Technical Ecstasy’s attempts at broadening their appeal via attempts at AM Gold (the admittedly quite excellent “It’s Alright”) and Southern rock boogie (the quite terrible “Rock ‘n’ Roll Doctor”) annoyed longtime fans while also not bringing in any new converts, even with Iommi’s ludicrous claim that Black Sabbath was now a family-friendly act(!!!). And although the preceding Sabotage was beloved by the base (and even drew some positive critical notices), it was actually a commercial disappointment upon release, so the band was coming off two poor sellers in a row. AND THEN Ozzy Osbourne left the band in a huff (and for no apparent reason other than being sozzled out of his gourd and just annoyed with everyone).
Iommi and Geezer Butler tried carrying on as if it didn't matter (Bill Ward was generally passed out in a corner somewhere), quickly bringing in ex-Savoy Brown frontman Dave Walker and starting work on the next record. This new lineup made it as far as performing a new track called “Junior’s Eyes” on British television before Walker was unceremoniously dumped after Ozzy decided to come back (most likely because he had nothing better to do). Of course, this being Sabbath in the late ‘70s, things didn’t get any simpler: although the Ozzman was back in the band, he refused to sing any of the lyrics Butler had penned during Walker’s tenure, and because the group had already burned a good amount of time and money on pre-production in Toronto, an increasingly irritated Warner Bros. wasn’t inclined to indulge them any further. Although Geezer was able to quickly scrounge up some fresh words, there simply wasn't enough time or patience to really work things through, which explained why the resulting album ended with an instrumental and then another Ward-sung track (“Swinging the Chain”, which did have lyrics written for Dave Walker).
All of the confusion, bad vibes and general listlessness permeated nearly every note of the ironically titled Never Say Die!: the opening title track was intended as a radio-friendly anthem, but really sounded more like the guys were convincing themselves everything was ok. Musically, the band was still in eclectic mode, incorporating more synths (courtesy of Don Airey) and even throwing in some saxophone skronks and jazz noodling; perhaps it goes without saying that there wasn’t a clear direction or throughline to any of this. Similarly, Geezer’s lyrics suggested that he wasn’t just bored with writing about death and darkness, he was just plain bored: “A Hard Road” frequently included pleas for friendship! And was released as a single!! With a promotional video (with Ozzy bleating "why can’t we be friends?” in full monster face)!!! Over the next 35 years, Sabbath would make heavier records, bluesier records, better records and lamer records. But never again would they make anything this weird.
How did it all turn out?
Technical Ecstasy was Sabbath’s first dud at the sales register, but it wasn’t their last: Never Say Die! charted at #12 in the UK (one notch higher than its predecessor, actually), but sputtered out at #69 in the US. But it was the tour that really did Sabbath in: it was bad enough that at best they half-assed their way through the gigs, but just as often they were completely zoned out, and although Ozzy bore the brunt of the criticism the entire band was mostly phoning it in. And then adding insult to injury was their opening act, a recent Warner Bros. signing from Los Angeles named Van Halen- besides being spiritually and aesthetically the complete opposite of everything Sabbath was known for, the new group projected all of the hunger, wit and fire that the headliners were so visibly lacking, so much so that most of the legend surrounding Never Say Die! mostly centers on tales of Van Halen blowing Sabbath off the stage every night.
And with Ozzy departing again shortly after, Never Say Die! was quickly dismissed by nearly everyone in the Sabbath camp: Ward defended it somewhat, but Iommi mostly shrugged it off and chalked the whole thing up to bickering and drug abuse, and Ozzy disavowed it altogether (despite performing “Never Say Die” during one of his early solo runs). To this day, the album is largely regarded as among the lowest points in the entire Sabbath discography, and while the ensuing years have brought about some reappraisal, the general consensus is that this was an unmitigated disaster.
But was it really that bad?
Even the album’s staunchest defenders (of which there aren’t very many) admit that Never Say Die! was an extremely confused record. Besides everything mentioned above, there wasn’t a clear sense of what the guys were actually going for- Technical Ecstasy was at least intentional about its desire to broaden the band’s fanbase, but the sudden bursts of jazzy breakdowns, proggy freakouts and that aforementioned sax just seemed random.
But what if there was something strangely compelling and even exciting in all the confusion? Never Say Die! may have been Sabbath’s weirdest album, but it was also arguably their most fascinating: completely running on fumes, tired of themselves and each other, and searching for inspiration anywhere they could find it, this is the record that most lends itself to revisiting. The title track may have been an unintentional kiss off, but it was also much more fun than a late ‘70s Sabbath tune had any right being. And the re-written “Junior’s Eyes” (with new lyrics about the death of Ozzy’s father) is one of the hidden gems in the band’s catalogue, a moving and powerful meditation on loss, grief and the contradictory emotions surrounding both, and with a commanding musical performance on top. Even “A Hard Road” had a certain goofy charm.
And while it was the lowest seller of the Ozzy years, the record proved to be influential in strange and surprising ways: with its junky production, fuzzed-out guitars and bashing drums, Never Say Die! may have been the first grunge album. For one, Kim Thayil regularly sang its praises, but even though Soundgarden and a huge portion of the Seattle scene aimed to emulate Master of Reality, this album was much closer to what they actually sounded like. Certainly, Bill Ward’s instinctive pummeling basically invented Dave Grohl, and Iommi’s garage-y riffing on “Shock Wave” and “Johnny Blade” was a fundamental antecedent to Sub Pop.
Perhaps because it was universally panned at the time and didn’t generate any lasting hits, Never Say Die! is the one Ozzy-era Black Sabbath record that reveals new twists and turns with each listen. It doesn’t have the monolithic power of their first six records, and nobody could pretend the guys were firing on all cylinders, but there was more going on here than meets the eye, and all the randomness can offer some rewards.
Rating: 3.5/5