I like a variety of music, but tend to mostly prefer bands that are a little edgy or outside what is popular among the masses or most of my peers. That’s not an intentional choice, it’s just the way it is and always has been. My first favorite band was Steppenwolf—when a neighbor gave me a cherished stack of the band’s 45s. There was nothing unusual about Steppenwolf—they had a lot of hits and were popular. But at the time, I was six years old. I don’t really remember what kids my age were listening to in 1969, but I never found any other fellow first-graders that knew the lyrics to Sookie Sookie.
Later in life in junior high and high school I had a handful of music friends that shared my tastes, but we seemed to always be against the musical grain. Again, it wasn’t intentional—we just preferred The Ramones, The Clash, and Gang of Four to the much more popular REO Speedwagon, Journey, and Michael Jackson.
One of the first metal bands I was into was Black Sabbath. Sure, they sold a lot of records in the ’70s, but their music was so ominous, they scared the bejeezus out of much of the music-consuming public and even their own record company. And they weren’t exactly mainstream listening among small-town, middle class kids in central Missouri. I remember putting on Master of Reality once at a party (with mostly “non-music” friends in attendance) and everybody went into open revolt three bars into the first tune. A friend of mine and fellow Sab fan was there, and even he had to laugh and say, “Uhh, no, Web. Not here.” He became a hero when he clicked the cassette out and put on some April Wine, while I got strange looks the rest of the evening.
I never saw the original version of Black Sabbath live because they kicked Ozzy Osbourne out of the band in 1979. The amazing Ronnie James Dio joined Black Sabbath and they made some great records and toured for several years, but I never saw that lineup, either. The band had a slew of other vocalists after Dio and more drama and cast changes than General Hospital, and I kind of lost interest in them.
Ozzy began his solo career shortly after getting the boot from Sab, and I did see him and his band live a couple of times. The first time was in January of 1982 in Pittsburgh when I was a freshman in college. I went with my roommate, and we had dinner at his house before the show. His mom wasn’t exactly sure who it was we were going to see, and we made the mistake of telling her that he used to be the singer in a band called Black Sabbath. She was a devout Catholic, and I could tell she didn’t like the sound of that at all. I tried to make her feel better by explaining that they weren’t near as demonic as the name suggested, and that I had even read a review of the band once that described them as “the world’s first Catholic rock band.” Her mood did improve a bit, and we were glad that she didn’t try to talk us out of going.
The show was great, and guitar god Randy Rhoads was still in the band. (He died in a plane crash a couple months later.) Another notable event that evening was my first (and last) drink of Mad Dog 20/20 (red grape, I think) in the parking lot before the show.
Ozzy and the band reunited for a while in the ’90s, and again in 2012, sans original drummer Bill Ward. They toured on those occasions, but seeing them live still eluded me. I figured they would end up forever on my list of favorite bands I never saw. But when they announced they would tour one more time, I quickly checked the schedule. First date on the tour: Omaha. Next Wednesday. I’ll be there.
Rocktales 