Months ago, my friend Jack, who missed Black Sabbath when they came through the area last year, brought up the possibility of converging on L.A. (I’m in the San Francisco Bay Area, and he now lives in San Diego where he is currently putting the finishing touches on this) to catch the last date of Black Sabbath’s current tour at the Hollywood Bowl. Converging on L.A. meant staying with our mutual friend Chris and his wife Camille in Sun Valley and all going to the show together.
At the last minute, Jack and his wife, Jackie, decided that one of them should stay home with their elderly dog, Molly, so my stepdaughter, Eva, gladly stepped in to use Jackie’s ticket. Yes, it’s all about spouses, dogs, and stepdaughters these days. We must be old now. But then again, so is Black Sabbath.
I had been home from Yosemite for a little over a day before Eva and I got in the car and headed south. It was actually raining a little, which probably added some time to the long, slow crawl down highway 101 toward Gilroy. By the time we made it to 1-5, the sky was still heavy and indecisive, and somewhere past the soggy cowshit smell of Coalinga, the slanted sunlight and black clouds made for some interesting atmospheric interplay. Add to that a double rainbow and some lightning in the distance and it was an aesthetically pleasing ride through the Central Valley. We also passed a lot of signs erected by farmers complaining about the drought. Predictably, many of the signs placed the blame on politicians. I’m sure their current woes had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the Central Valley is actually a desert. Note heavy sarcasm.
The deluge really struck as we wound our way through a benighted Grapevine. We got to Chris and Camille’s house shortly after 9:00 PM. A guy named Bob Schriner was there as well, and it turned out he was a standup comedian. The next day, he handed me a copy of his CD, which coincidentally enough has a track entitled “Black Sabbath”. Ironically, he didn’t attend the show. Donny was also there, and it turned out he was a dog. He didn't attend the show either.
On Saturday, we went and got some brunch, followed by a visit to a coffee shop that offered Nutella mochas, which sounded strange enough to warrant a drink order. It was good enough that I’d order it again. Later on, while the grown-ups relaxed at the house (and saw both coyote and deer on the hillside behind the house), Eva and I went to Amoeba Records so I could buy things and Eva could talk to record store freaks. We both succeeded in our goals, and Eva was impressed enough by the amount of money I spent that she took a picture of the total on the register.
Later we regrouped and headed for the Hollywood Bowl. It would be my first time at this venue, but not Black Sabbath’s first time. They last played there the year I turned five, 42 years ago. The approach to the Bowl was clogged like an artery in danger of bursting, and people selling bootleg shirts weren’t helping matters with their tendency to fearlessly step into traffic while waving cheap knockoff shirts above their heads. I saw at least one transaction take place on an off ramp, holding up traffic until it was concluded. Parking was interesting too. We got a place in a lot right across the street, and this served as my introduction to “stack parking”, a method of containment in which every available inch of a lot is taken up. Attendees drive in and all park facing the same way, blocking the exits so that nobody will be able to leave until pretty much everybody gets back to their cars after the show.
After walking through a short pedestrian underpass, we made our way inside. People were hawking Black Sabbath seat cushions for $20.00, which struck me as funny because I knew most people would stand when the band started. Plus, you could rent a logo-less seat cushion for $1.00. I did break my normal shirt budget and shell out too much money for a shirt, but only because in was specific to this particular show, featuring the dates of the band’s two appearances at the Bowl.
Our seats were in the very back row, so high up that the famous Hollywood sign could be seen in the distance. I could also see a large, glowing cross off to the right, as if some militant Christian group had decided to stage a silent protest to combant the evening’s heavy metal devilry. The clouds above were turning orange with evening, and the seats were filling up fast when opening act Reignwolf started. We had been joking about the band all afternoon, mostly based on what we could glean from the internet. Sure, it was a step up from having Andrew WK do a DJ set like he did last year when we saw the band at Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View, but a band like Black Sabbath is well able to pull in a more solid opener. We were all more or less in agreement that it was probably some sort of management decision – the more bland the opening band, the better the headliner appears to be. Not that Black Sabbath really needs to play that kind of game. They are, after all, widely regarded as the originators of heavy metal as a genre.
Reignwolf played a set of heavy blues rock, and they seemed to get some positive audience response, especially from one guy a few rows in front of us. To me, their music wasn’t very exciting. They sounded like a band that hadn’t found their sound. It was more like they’d borrowed it from somewhere else, hoping that nobody would notice. I guess the same could be said for many other bands too, but it seems strange to pair leaders with followers (although some would argue that it’s the only logical pairing, semantically speaking). It would have been better if the opening band was an originator in its own right. I spent the set watching the sky grow darker and the orange clouds fade to grey. From our vantage point, the sound was okay but it could have been louder. When the wind blew, it actually affected the sound a bit. Yes, we were that high up. Reignwolf were dots on a stage.
Soon the Reignwolf dots left, only to be replaced by Black Sabbath dots. The Ozzy dot was his usual maniacal self, and his voice still sounded as good as it ever does (which maybe isn't saying much - Ozzy always sounds a bit hoarse live). I had been concerned that the epic length of Black Sabbath’s recent touring activity might have had a negative effect on Ozzy’s voice, but it turned out I needn’t have worried. I had also been hoping that we might get some sort of special treat since this was the last tour date, not to mention the fact that it was taking place in a venue that the band hadn’t visited in 42 years, but what ensued was a set identical to the one they played when we saw them last year. Not that I’m complaining too much, since it was a fine collection of songs. Sure, there are songs that I wish they had played, but I’ll take what I can get. Eva maintains that the drum solo was shorter. Maybe she’s right. I’m ambivalent about drum solos, but drummer Tommy Clufetos definitely knows his way around a kit, so it wasn’t too bad.
As usually seems to be the case with all public events these days, the whole show is available for viewing on Youtube. Click here and try to ignore that woman who screams through the whole thing (I'm listening to the show as I type, and I want to hunt her down and duct tape her mouth). Why would somebody do that? Lots of off-key audience members singing along too.
It must be said that Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler provide the best reason for attending a Black Sabbath show. I was amazed all over again listening to them effortlessly setting the sonic scene with their fluid playing. Their contributions to the world of music will go down in history. Indeed, they already have.
My favorite song of the night was the band’s self-titled song, which is still the great granddaddy of all doom metal songs and sounding as good as ever here in 2014. It was also fun to hear so many people singing along (the massed choir effect burying the limited vocal prowess of individuals in the crowd), especially on opener War Pigs.
As I was last year, Jack was disappointed by the Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tease at the beginning of the encore of Paranoid. Why couldn’t they have played the whole song instead of just the opening riff? They must actually be evil, like the hypothetical erectors of nearby glowing crosses must think.
See the set list here. Also of interest is the band's 1972 Hollywood Bowl set list. See it here. It looks like I would have gotten to see a show that more or less matched my attention span as a five year old if I'd attended the performance in 1972. See my review of last year’s show here. Also, since I’m throwing up links, check out this interesting site.
The new songs still hold up well, especially now that I’ve had more time to let them sink in. Ozzy thanked the audience for supporting the band and helping get their recent album, “13”, to the number one spot on the charts. Apparently it’s the first time ever that a Black Sabbath album has held that position. Good for them! Albums aren’t dead yet.
At one point, Ozzy asked the audience to turn on their cellphones, and suddenly a constellation of lights shone forth from all across the Bowl. It was strangely beautiful, like city lights seen from a hilltop. The laser show was interesting too, with laser light hitting the trees above our heads (one of the advantages to being at the very back, I guess). When the wind was blowing, the effect was quite psychedelic.
After the last notes of Paranoid had faded, fireworks stepped into the void, exploding above the stage. Maybe that was the special end-of-tour thing, because it sure didn’t happen last year. That said, maybe it’s a Hollywood Bowl thing. However one wants to look at it, it was an interesting finale, although would have been happier with a second encore.
Back at the car, we waited for the laggards to reach their vehicles while a nearby bleeding drunk struggled to regain his footing while being cheered on by onlookers. Some people took charge of the inebriated fellow and were planning on getting him home, but he eventually wandered off on his own again. I’m betting that he remembers nothing. Eva, being a teenager, recorded the incident with her phone. Eventually, the clogged artery of the parking lot flowed freely and we escaped, stopping at a late night Mexican food place on the way home. The drink I bought tasted just like an orange Creamsicle and some guy in the parking lot tried to sell us DVDs. That’s L.A. for you, I guess.
In the morning, Jack left home for San Diego relatively early. I sat out back with Chris and Camille and we watched birds while waiting for Eva to appear from the room she was sleeping in. It eventually turned out that Eva had been awake for hours, engrossed in the world of her phone.
The ride home was sunny, with tumbleweeds blowing across the freeway. I got some garlic ice cream in Gilroy. Great stuff.
Thanks to Chris and Camille for their hospitality, to Bob for the CD, to Eva for being my road trip buddy, and to Jack for suggesting this crazy little jaunt in the first place. Given that I'd recently seen Black Sabbath, this whole weekend was more about friendship and the process of the roadtrip than the actual concert. The concert was just icing on the cake, not to mention a catalyst. It's the unusual events that make us feel more alive.
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