Ranking the (Studio) Albums: Black Sabbath (Part II: #15-12)
Considering Sabbath's good to very-good moments
The first round of Black Sabbath album rankings tried to find the better riffs and tunes often buried under a morass of nonsense. But perhaps surprisingly, of the 19 full-lengths Tony Iommi released under the Sabbath banner, only 4 could be called outright duds. The rest range from the at least OK to the quite good to the amazing to the outright essential, with this next set of albums arguably being the most divisive of the entire discography. These are the records that are either beloved by a portion of the diehards, or hated by another set of longtime fans, and often for the same reasons. But it is exactly that dichotomy that makes the platters on this list among the most interesting records of the discography- the lack of a clear consensus indicates that there is a lot more going on with these records, so much so that they resist easy categorization or assignment.
These albums certainly have their moments, and they all have their backstories…
#15: The Eternal Idol (1987)
In a different time (and very different context), James Carville once remarked “never before have so few spent so much to accomplish so little.” That quip immediately comes to mind when pondering The Eternal Idol, an album took a long time to make, cycled through a small army of musicians and surely cost Warner Bros. a ton of money only to immediately sink right into a commercial black hole.
Joe Siegler put together an amazing writeup of the record’s shockingly protracted and difficult birth, and even recapping that would require a docuseries. With a legion of musicians, producers and engineers and only Tony Iommi and stalwart keyboardist Geoff Nicholls around the entire time, it was simply astounding that it took this much effort to put out 42 minutes of music.
But against that backdrop, The Eternal Idol as an album sounded surprisingly cohesive, with Chris Tsangerides (one of the album’s three credited producers) handling the entire mix and giving the record the feel of something put together by a single band in a single studio. And even though every role outside of Iommi’s was up for grabs, the end product was in fact largely made by a single drummer (Eric Singer), bassist (Bob Daisley, who also wrote most of the lyrics) and vocalist (introducing Tony “the Cat” Martin). The overall sound was very 1987, with reverb all over, drums anywhere and everywhere and coked-out guitars. And because this was a Warner Bros. joint released in 1987, there was an unavoidable waft of Aquanet, from the sometimes obtrusive synths to Martin’s occasional reliance on predecessor Ray Gillen’s phrasing (in fairness, Gillen had demoed the entire album and helped craft vocal melodies with Daisley before bailing on what he felt was a sinking ship) to the generically commercial “Hard Life to Love” and biker salute “Glory Ride”.
But for all of this, there was actually more about The Eternal Idol that worked: yes, it had a certain facelessness borne from the ad hoc nature of its creation, but Iommi could seemingly pull magical riffs out of the air even at this late stage, and “Ancient Warrior”, “Nightmare” and the title track had a dark majesty to them, while “Glory Ride” circumvented its boilerplate lyrics with surging momentum from Eric Singer’s drumming. Even the Cat, who was more often than not blamed for stinking up the joint over the next decade, acquitted himself well and even felt like a promising addition to the band even if he didn’t have the personality or force of presence of his predecessors.
And of course, there was “The Shining”, a monumental beast with an instantly iconic mammoth Iommi riff and a monster chorus that, for a brief stellar moment, made Black Sabbath seem like a viable proposition again, even if nobody had any idea who was actually in Sabbath at that point- hell, the bassist in the video was literally some guy pulled off the street!
On the surface The Eternal Idol was considered yet another hapless effort by a washed-up guitarist trading on his legacy while his former bandmates made a show of thriving without him. But there was enough life on the record to suggest that Iommi hadn’t run out of ideas, even if the box office receipts suggested otherwise.
Rating: 3/5
#14: Seventh Star (1986)
Seventh Star was set up to fail: saddled with the Black Sabbath name by a desperate Warner Bros. despite being written and recorded as a Tony Iommi solo album and intentional departure from the core Sabbath sound, the mere sight of a strung-out Glenn Hughes in a trenchcoat a few seconds into the video for “No Stranger to Love” (followed shortly by some hilariously abysmal “acting” from Iommi) yowling about living on the street turned the entire affair into a laughingstock for the few still paying attention in 1986. Simply printing “Black Sabbath featuring Tony Iommi” on the cover ensured that, at best, Seventh Star would be the most misunderstood release of Tony Iommi’s career.
And it certainly was misunderstood for a long time, though the past 15 years or so have seen the album’s reception almost entirely rehabilitated. Understanding that it was never supposed to be a proper Sabbath album makes it much easier to appreciate. As an Iommi solo effort featuring a crack band of younger players and a damaged but still powerful vocalist, Seventh Star had a mix of ‘80s metal (“In for the Kill”, “Turn to Stone”), hard rock (the title track, “Danger Zone”) and burnt-out blues (“Heart Like a Wheel”). Eric Singer and Dave “the Beast” Spitz (both brought in from Lita Ford’s band) were a tight rhythm section, and Singer in particular showed off the chops and steadiness that made him an in-demand player. Meanwhile, Iommi delivered riffs that were a bit less monolithic than usual, but also felt intuitive and breathed a bit more, though he still managed an all-timer with the awesome “Danger Zone”. And although he was a complete disaster on and off stage, Hughes sounded fully engaged, and his wailing largely worked within the context of the material.
But at the same time, all of the above ensured that Seventh Star made virtually no sense as a Black Sabbath album, and Jeff Glixman’s production sacrificed dynamics for volume. Furthermore, even when accounting for this being intended as an Iommi solo record, it wasn’t entirely clear what exactly he was going for. Was this meant to be an exploration of different sounds and textures, manifested by bringing in a singer known for his soul and funk influences and applying that distinct voice along with a singular guitar sound towards a variety of styles? Or was this Iommi trying to shed the baggage of the Sabbath name and attempting to position himself alongside the rapidly emerging glam metal scene by hiring a couple young guns and buying a few cases of Aquanet? Seventh Star suggested an awkward mix of both, and the balance of tracks, while often strong on their own merits, didn’t quite hold together as a record.
For that matter, neither did this lineup: with Hughes committed to being a full-time trainwreck and everyone forced to carry on as “Black Sabbath”, Iommi tried to truck along on an ill-fated tour that frequently played to less than half-full arenas while his singer tried to make “War Pigs” sound like Stevie Wonder (when he could even remember the words). To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Hughes was fired a few dates in, and such was the state of affairs in the Sabbath camp at the time that their next best option was a New Jersey vocalist who had been playing bars one week prior. Great a singer as Ray Gillen was, nobody was buying this, and literally everyone needed to take a cold hard look in the mirror after Seventh Star. Some actually did right then and there, and most would eventually, though it would take them a few more years and mistakes to get there.
Rating: 3/5
#13: Cross Purposes (1994)
Dehumanizer performed well below expectations as far as sales, and while a good portion of the fanbase liked and admired it, the brief return of the Mob Rules lineup wasn’t greeted with nearly the rapture nearly everyone was expecting. But the record proved to have a longer tail than its reception would’ve otherwise suggested, for even as the Iommi/Butler/Dio/Appice iteration splintered again, both factions ended up using Dehumanizer as a template for what followed. For Ronnie James Dio and Vinny Appice, that meant poaching Appice’s WWIII bandmate Tracy G. and recasting Dio as a grungey and borderline-industrial metal band, but while Iommi brought Tony Martin back and recruited former Rainbow drummer Bobby Rondinelli (the fifth person from that group to do a spell with Sabbath), Geezer Butler stuck around and preserved a small semblance of continuity. And with Butler playing no small role in crafting lyrics and co-captaining musically, Cross Purposes was as much a continuation of Dehumanizer’s themes as was Dio’s Strange Highways.
In Sabbath’s case, the result may have yet another commercial sputter, but substantively was the best thing Tony Martin ever did with Sabbath (or anywhere else, really). Cross Purposes was a dark and brooding record given weight by Butler’s bass and penmanship, and his chemistry with Iommi remained on point. “I Witness” and “Cross of Thorns” were logical follow-ups to the foreboding aggression of Dehumanizer, and Leif Mases’ production captured the weight of Iommi’s riffing and Butler’s bass without turning the mix to a crawling sludge. The songs were a bit leaner than those on the previous record, but that worked to Cross Purposes’ benefit, as the arrangements felt less fussy and emphasized both the strength of the music and subtle dynamics in the arrangements, even though this was very much a heavy record, and in many ways much more forceful than the Powell records. And the closing “Evil Eye” (co-written by an uncredited Eddie Van Halen) was a vengeful monolith that captured this brief iteration of Sabbath at full force.
All of this points to an underrated minor gem of an album, and to an extent that’s what Cross Purposes was. But the presence of two original members wasn’t enough to give this lineup a distinct personality: Rondinelli’s drumming serviced the songs, but nothing more, and even though Martin delivered arguably the performance of his career, there was no disguising that he was punching well above his weight. One couldn’t escape the feeling that this would’ve felt much more consequential coming from a band of equals, even if the songs themselves ended up holding up really well and made Cross Purposes one of the Sabbath albums most ripe for revisiting and rediscovery.
Rating: 3.5/5
#12: 13 (2013)
Beyond anyone’s opinion or preferences, what often separates a very good Black Sabbath album from a great one comes down to a vibe. Cross Purposes was a well-written and well-played record with some very good songs, but the mere presence of Bobby Rondinelli and Tony Martin made it seem second-hand and cut-rate. By the very same token, the unjustified absence of Bill Ward on what was supposed to a monumental reunion of Sabbath’s original lineup ensured that 13 would always be greeted with an asterisk.
The term “signable contract” got thrown around to the point of absurdity, but the long and short of it was that neither Geezer Butler, Tony Iommi or Ozzy Osbourne (or Sharon Osbourne, who was very much a key player in all of this) truly considered Ward a vital member of the band. To be fair, the drummer had his share of health issues and always seemed more emotionally fragile. But even with all of that he was still ultimately more reliable than Ozzy, who hasn’t successfully completed a tour without illness and cancellations since roughly 1988. More than that, although Iommi and Butler were always the primary songwriters, Ward contributed much more to crafting Sabbath’s songs than he has ever been given credit for, and over the decades had actually grown into a credible composer in his own right. With Ward signed on as an actual proper member of the band, the potential for a fully reunited Black Sabbath to create not only a heavy and powerful but also creative and interesting record was substantial.
But Ward didn’t have any claims to the Sabbath name, and the others wouldn’t hand him a “signable contract”, so he was not only excised from the band, but ultimately didn’t get to play a role in their farewell and final statement as a group. And 13 suffered for it: the guys thought bringing in Brad Wilk and studiously working to recreate the sound of the very first Sabbath album would at least brush off (if not entirely wash away) the bad faith, but even if Wilk was respectful almost to a fault, no small amount of magic was missing. “End of the Beginning”, “God is Dead?” and “Damaged Soul” were all crushingly heavy (and very long), but without Ward’s innate swing they all felt leaden and seemed like the guys were deliberately trying to prove their early critics right.
That self-conscious attempt to harken back to Sabbath’s earliest years was arguably an even bigger issue for 13: at their creative and commercial peak, Black Sabbath was so much more than just overwhelmingly heavy. There was a lot happening on those classic records, and it wasn’t just a matter of sonic diversity or the occasional ballad. Those records took detours that and bounced as much as they lurched, and showcased four guys in a room playing off of each other even as the budgets grew and the cocaine piled up. But 13 mostly just felt like a single massive boulder rolling slowly along.
Then again, nobody else on this planet can push a boulder like these three guys, and every note made clear that Tony, Geezer and Ozzy were not treating this as a lark. At its best moments, 13 crackled with chemistry and focus, with “Age of Reason”, “Zeigeist” and the seething “Dear Father” showcasing an experience and expertise that could only have come from these individuals. Rick Rubin’s production generally stayed out of the way and did the job of capturing the anvil-laying on tape, so it was easy to home in on Butler’s globules of bass, Iommi’s wall of sound and Osbourne’s shaky but committed vocals. And if somebody picked up one of the deluxe editions, they would’ve had a sense of the album 13 could’ve been: bonus tracks “Methademic” and “Pariah” were faster and fleeter than most of what actually made the record, and would’ve given the album more dimension and room to breathe.
13 was by its very construction a push-pull experience. The quality was there, and there was nothing quite like hearing Ozzy Osbourne sing Geezer Butler’s cynical lyrics over gargantuan Tony Iommi riffs. But as much as there was to appreciate and even enjoy, there was just as much missing.
Rating: 3.5/5