Ranking the (Studio) Albums: Black Sabbath (Part I: #19-17)

10 years after their farewell, taking a fresh listen at the discography of the band that invented metal

On June 10, 2013, Black Sabbath released 13, their first studio album in 18 years and first with Ozzy Osbourne at the mic in 35 years. It was an immediate worldwide smash, topping charts all over the world, including in America (it was actually their first #1 record there). 13 would also be Sabbath’s final album: although there were brief discussions about making another full-length record using leftover material from the 13 sessions, neither Ozzy nor Geezer Butler expressed much enthusiasm for the idea, and the decision was ultimately made to instead call it a day after one final tour.

Black Sabbath’s legacy was already more than secure by 2013, and the intervening years have done nothing to diminish their impact. If anything, the fact that their last record was made with their original frontman, got good-to-great reviews and sold respectably well actually obscured the band’s rather complicated history. After all, this was a band with 19 albums, less than half of which were made with Ozzy Osbourne. And while they initially thrived without the Ozzman, within 5 years of his original departure Sabbath’s popularity nosedived even as Tony Iommi kept it at with an increasingly random collection of sidemen (well, not entirely random: he basically plundered the ranks of ex-Rainbow and Whitesnake members).

But while it would be very easy to just say that every Black Sabbath record after 1975 or maybe 1981 sucked, we all know that wouldn’t be fair or true. Even Iommi’s most questionable moves (and this is very much his story) had moments that, if not entirely amazing, still had a spark that earned our attention, even if only briefly.

And so… 10 years after their farewell, let’s take a fresh look at Black Sabbath’s full studio discography- with so many albums and lineups, there are bound to be some surprises, even if time has crystallized certain records in ways both good and bad.

Speaking of bad, there are these…

#19: Tyr (1990)

Headless Cross was a complete nonstarter in America, but it charted reasonably well in England and enabled the entity calling itself Black Sabbath to do decent touring business in Europe, particularly the parts of the eastern bloc that were beginning to open up to the west in the late ‘80s. So Tony Iommi had some reason to feel confident in his decisions, including bringing in Cozy Powell not only as a drummer, but effectively as his co-captain. And Tyr largely maintained the previous power dynamics (notably Powell continuing in his role as chief co-writer and co-producer) while giving Tony “the Cat” Martin more runway as a singer and lyricist.

Because of this, Sabbath’s fifteenth record was a mostly logical continuation of Headless Cross, with Powell’s thunderous drumming way up in the mix and upping the overall intensity considerably. This was most prominently felt on the storming “Valhalla”, where Iommi slammed on the power chords (with space for a rather Brian May-esque solo) and Martin delivered one of his more individual (and therefore one of his best) vocal performances. Similarly, “Anno Mundi” was a smartly arranged epic that boasted one of the few moments from this era where the drama felt at least somewhat earned. And if one was being very generous, the Cat’s focus on Norse mythology was a precursor to the Viking metal that would emerge from the underground over the next 15 years or so.

But the flipside was that Tyr was a logical follow-up to a not-very-good record (more on that later), so more often than not Powell and Iommi used loudness to mask poor songwriting, and even though Martin largely did away with the dimestore Satanism of the previous record his bellowing remained low-rent. There was a lot of bashing, but very little purpose, while the pathetic hair metal power ballad “Feels Good to Me” was a transparent and sad attempt at a single, and if it wasn’t the absolute worst song Black Sabbath ever recorded, it was definitely the lamest. And that was Tyr in a nutshell: a lineup of journeymen (besides Powell there was also the very well-traveled Neil Murray on bass, meaning that this iteration of Sabbath had a larger concentration of Whitesnake than original members) that, while on the surface delivering steady and driving heavy metal, mostly came across as incredibly hapless.

Rating: 2/5

#18: Forbidden (1995)

99% of Black Sabbath album rankings place Forbidden at the bottom, and for all the reasons one would expect: one original member, limp production, aimless songwriting, inane lyrics- really, the mere presence of Tony Martin. And all of those reasons were valid, since for starters pointing to this as a “reunion” record when said reformation was of the Tyr lineup was simply asking to be laughed out of the room (though that didn’t stop Joe Siegler, whose Sabbath fan site really is one of the best archival sites ever created, from boasting exactly that). This wasn’t a crew of players known for its strong identity, and the worst parts of Forbidden sound faceless in every possible way- even the infamous Ice-T cameo on “The Illusion of Power” felt less like trend-hopping and more like a sad attempt at pulling inspiration out of oblivion. And unlike Tyr, Ernie C.’s production was the opposite of full-bodied, with the returning Cozy Powell in particular sounding boxed-in and sterile. Powell probably took the biggest hit: he had returned to Sabbath after a few years away expecting to resume his previous role as Iommi’s chief lieutenant, only to be largely treated as a session player (despite also being one of Iommi’s closest friends). Meanwhile, the singer once known as “the Cat” was given free reign as a lyricist to steer right into the ‘90s, which proved to be a very mixed bag: on the one hand, Martin thankfully avoided ghosts and goblins, but instead he resorted to bellowing and wailing angsty cliches, culminating in the supposedly defiant but actually boilerplate “Nothing you can do will hurt me, I am indestructible” at the climax of the closing “Kiss of Death”.

And yet… while Forbidden was generally a sad reminder of how clueless Tony Iommi could appear when left on his own to carry the Black Sabbath name forward, it was marginally better than Tyr by virtue of at least trying to not entirely fall back on old tricks. And even with this sorry state of affairs there were a couple moments where things sprang to life: the primary riff to “Guilty as Hell” was one of those sweet spot Iommi bangers, while “Get a Grip” and “Rusty Angels” similarly showed signs of a spark. Most shocking of all, the bonus track “Loser Gets It All” was actually a hidden gem, a short but tricky roamer that both floated and stung with inspired drumming and some of Tony Martin’s finest vocals. It wasn’t enough to fully redeem what was otherwise Sabbath at their most pathetic, but it at least offered something that wasn’t completely embarrassing.

Rating: 2/5

#17: Technical Ecstasy (1976)

Over the past 25 years or so, the ebbs and flows of the Black Sabbath discography have been reappraised multiple times. The impetus for this was usually a desire to explore corners of the band’s history that hadn’t already been mined to their last drop in hopes of finding something new. This usually had the effect of bringing previously less-heralded entries more attention and making the case that there was much more to the band’s catalogue than the usual staples and warhorses. And on balance, this was a very good thing: although the bottom of any ranking doesn’t offer much to defend, there are more than a few Sabbath albums worthy of reexamination.

But if Technical Ecstasy was one of the Sabbath records that most benefited from retroactive reconsideration, it has also subsequently become one of their more overpraised albums, with many seemingly more interested in the idea of the album rather than the actual songs included therein. There was also the fact that this was made by the original lineup, and just about everything associated with the Ozzy years was given new shine with the benefit of hindsight.

This might gloss over some of what Technical Ecstasy actually was, but none of it could hide the fact that this was a confused album made by a bored and exhausted band. Worn down by legal battles, taking stock of the American market and unsure of what to do next, and (of course) sozzled out of their skulls, the Sabs pretty much left Iommi to put their seventh album together on his own, with the result being what the guitarist himself called an attempt at evolving Sabbath into something more “family friendly” (!!!).

Let that one sink in…

Hard to conceive introducing children to Black Sabbath in any capacity, even via a record whose cover art imagines robots fornicating on escalators. But while Iommi’s statements were no doubt driven by the leftover cocaine the Eagles didn’t get around to snorting over the mixing desks they handed off after recording Hotel California in the same studio, Technical Ecstasy was certainly a much more mainstream (by 1976 standards) version of their brand of heavy rock. There was still a brashness to the recording, especially in the fried fuzziness of Iommi’s guitars, on bangers like the opening semi-anthem “Back Street Kids”, along with the lengthy set pieces "You Won't Change Me” and the closing “Dirty Women”. But the lyrical conceits were direct to the point of basic, which nobody would’ve accused Geezer Butler of being up to this point: “Back Street Kids” was all about how much they loved good ol’ rock n’ roll (“Rock n’ roll music is the only thing I really dig; Nobody I know can ever take my rock n’ roll away from me”), “You Won’t Change Me” was a depressed (and depressing) ode to loneliness and self-acceptance, and “Dirty Women” was about, well, dirty women. And these were some of the better moments!

All throughout Technical Ecstasy one gets the feeling Sabbath was trying to continue expanding their sound, and after venturing into prog territory on their previous two records the next thing really was to move past metal altogether. But the exploration was permeated with uncertainty and the overwhelming sense that these guys really just needed a break (and rehab). How else to explain the aimless “All Moving Parts (Stand Still)”, the fall-down drunk “She’s Gone” (the most hapless Sabbath ballad until Tony Martin wrought “Feels Good to Me” upon us) and the remarkably clueless boogie(?) “Rock n’ Roll Doctor”?

Somehow, it was Bill Ward that saved the day: “It’s Alright” would’ve been another disaster were it not for the drummer’s shockingly sincere and soulful vocals, which showed hidden depths to the least visible and most underrated member of the band. It sounded nothing like Sabbath, but outclassed every slow number they’d attempted since 1971. And to be fair, both “Back Street Kids” and “Dirty Women” kicked up a decent amount of dust, even with the inane lyrics.

Technical Ecstasy was the first Black Sabbath record without a clear sense of focus or purpose, and the moment where the wheels began to fall off, and audiences picked up on that, though nobody suspected the darker days to come…

Rating: 2/5

#16: Headless Cross (1989)

Relegated to an indie (albeit a large one with major label backing) after getting dropped by Warner Bros., Tony Iommi more or less rebuilt Black Sabbath as an entity and brand from the ground up by making two important decisions. The first was to retain Tony Martin after the singer proved a steady, reliable and committed presence in finishing and touring The Eternal Idol (no small feat given what went into making that record). The second- and no less critical- move was to bring in Cozy Powell not just as a drummer, but as a key musical partner and collaborator. Powell was a strong personality with no small amount of baggage- he was known for short-lived runs with famous bands that almost always ended with everyone hating each other- but he was a powerhouse whose resume was littered with classic records, and was one of the only drummers on the planet, before and ever since, with an immediately identifiable signature sound. And it was no coincidence that Headless Cross, after a brief intro, began with Powell’s customary thud and crash: after several years of basically ad hoc lineups, Iommi was presenting a new version of Black Sabbath that, if nothing else, wasn’t just him and some guys.

Indeed, “Headless Cross” itself was a statement of intent: besides Powell announcing himself as percussionist, composer and producer (it wasn’t just that he hit his drums hard, they were super high in the mix and nearly overpowered everything else), Iommi let loose a startingly monumental and intense progression and primary riff that was one of the unsung classics of the entire Sabbath songbook. That riff was brutally effective and showed both how serious Iommi was as well as how in sync he and Powell were, which in turn drove Martin to push himself harder at the mic. That synchronicity and focus turned up again on the storming “When Death Calls”, which kicked so much ass (and featured a blistering Brian May solo) that it threatened to actually revive Black Sabbath as a serious musical force.

If only it were that simple… Iommi and Powell may have been on point, but Tony Martin (who Powell lobbied to keep while Iommi briefly considered bringing in Ronnie James Dio or David Coverdale, both of whom Powell hated) was handed lyric-writing duties. And because the Cat thought being in Black Sabbath meant singing exclusively about Satan (or so Iommi claimed later), he delivered “spooky” devil-worshipping sermons that would’ve been insipid if they weren’t so asinine. From howlers (literally in this case, since Martin made sure to gesticulate every syllable with Dio-esque drama) like “There’s no escaping the power of Satan” (from “Headless Cross”, which had a video where Martin helpfully acted out his wordsmithing) to “I remember the Devil coming to steal my soul again and again” (“Cloak & Dagger”) and the genius “Can’t die until Satan says you die” (“When Death Calls”), whatever seriousness Iommi and Powell brought to the table was almost entirely negated by the childishness of the lyrics, which made this iteration of Sabbath come across as bushleague and pandering.

Among the reevaluation/redemption arc of Black Sabbath’s less beloved efforts, Headless Cross occupies a distinct place: as mentioned earlier, despite being seen as a complete joke in America, it was actually their biggest album in several years across the UK and Europe. And retrospectively, it has been recognized as one of the stronger non-Ozzy or Dio entries on account of the gale-force power of Iommi and Powell’s playing. But Martin’s lyrics, and the histrionics he applied in delivering them, couldn’t help but keep Headless Cross from being taken seriously.

Rating: 2.5/5

Coming up: it gets better from here- the next round of Sabbath album rankings looks at the records that have their share of moments, and on a really good day might be dark horses…

Do you agree? Is anything missing from the duds? Are any (or all) of these way underrated? Feel free to comment, and of course subscribe for FREE to get the next round of rankings (and many other analyses planned for 2024) right to your inbox! And as always, thanks for reading!