Black Sabbath
NEC, Birmingham
Rating: ****
On Christ's 2,000th birthday these old devils are finally announcing their retirement. Billed as the Last Supper, this is allegedly Black Sabbath's final bow. Lest we forget, this is the band whose singer Ozzy Osbourne will be remembered for biting the head off a bat onstage; who collectively drank more than four Ollie Reeds; who single-handedly inspired almost every scene in Spinal Tap (pioneering the use of the rock drummer in combustion) and whose guitarist Tony Iommi wore a moustache that would invite prosecution in many civilised countries. But really, Sabbath should be re membered for some of the truly seminal hard rock of the 20th century. And it is this - not the bats - of which they seek to remind us.
The gig is like a Nuremburg rally soundtracked by hell's house band. But what is most remarkable is not the 11,000 voices chanting things such as "The war machine is burning", an unexpected glimmer of rock's forgotten insurrection, but just how strangely primal Sabbath sound. Any other ageing rock band would rely on technology or additional key board players to embellish their creaking limbs. Sabbath don't. It is just the four of them, in a (very large) room, plugging fabulously into whatever unholy adolescent rage once gave birth to classics such as Electric Funeral.
The master of ceremonies is, of course, Osbourne. Sober for many years, Ozzy either has enough demon drink left inside him from the bad days or gets some kind of weird high from inducing pandemonium. At one point, he yells "Go crazy!" upon which the crowd start hurling seat cushions into the air, which continues for most of the set. It is almost, well, demonic.
But Ozzy solo is not a patch on Oz with Sabbath and the band underline just how much he needs them. Tony Iommi - moustache proudly untrimmed - is surely one of the most underrated rock guitarists of all time. Geezer Butler - long-haired at almost 50 - never once stops headbanging, while Bill Ward proves that not even a heart attack has stopped him remaining the pulse beat of the band. They slip, effortlessly from rock to black funk, and my only gripe is the absence of their overlooked gentler side and that Ozzy asks me to put my hands up around 45 times too often.
At the end, things get very emotional. Ozzy hugs the band and they return with a rendition of Paranoid that can presumably be heard in China. Is this the end of Sabbath? I'd guess possibly not. But whatever happens, the world will be a quieter place without them.
***** Unmissable **** Recommended *** Enjoyable ** Mediocre * Terrible
