Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. 40 years and a day ago, one of the most controversial albums in metal history hit the shelves: Black Sabbath’s Born Again. The album, a culmination of inner turmoil and LOTS of alcohol, split fans in half. Many dismissed it as an experiment gone awry with poor songwriting and even poorer production to boot. Equally as many hail it as a misunderstood masterpiece, one that deserves to be ranked among Sabbath’s finest outings, albeit for different reasons than their first 6 albums and the Dio era. Today, we look back on this album, the circumstances that led to it, and why the naysayers got it wrong. Drink up maniacs. You’re gonna need to for this one.
The year is 1983 and metal is everywhere. The early ’80s NWOBHM driven hysteria has finally made its way overseas to the States, and thanks largely to two bands who’d foreshadow the sound of mainstream metal to come: Quiet Riot and Def Leppard. Their respective albums, Metal Health and Pyromania, blow up overnight, selling millions of copies and spawning a slew of rock radio and MTV hits. Emphasizing hooks, melodies, and a poppy sheen over brute force, these bands serve as the perfect gateway drug so to speak, bringing metal into the homes of teenagers all over America.
With all these young, spandex-clad, poof-headed pretty boys pouting their way onto the small screen, where did that leave our fore founding fathers of the ’70s? For a lack of better terminology, between a rock and hard place (Remind me to write one of these essays on that similarly titled glorious cocaine-fueled mess of an Aerosmith album one day. The parallels between it and today’s featured album are damning.) ’83 saw the disbanding of Ian Gillan’s namesake outfit, who despite achieving success in their native UK off the strength of the NWOBHM, failed to make headway stateside. It also saw Black Sabbath without a singer, thanks to an infamous spat (the first of many) between Tony Iommi and Ronnie James Dio regarding the mix of Live Evil (1983).
Among the singers considered to replace Dio were Samson’s Nicky Moore, Uriah Heep’s John Sloman, and none other than Mr. Whitesnake himself, David Coverdale. None of these panned out. At one point, Iommi even flew out a young aspiring singer by the name of Michael Bolotin, who had released a couple of solo albums and played in a band alongside future KISS guitarist Bruce Kulick named Blackjack, to audition. As history had it, this audition didn’t pan out either, Bolotin shortened his name to “Bolton”, and he’d go onto sell over 75 million albums as the de facto patron saint of adult contemporary radio. Not bad for a kid from Connecticut!
Defeated and singer-less, Iommi and bassist Geezer Butler took their troubles to a nearby pub, where they bumped into their old pal Gillan, who was also drinking his troubles away. Needless to say, “the bottle took a beating”. One thing led to another and come the next morning, Gillan woke up both hungover AND as the new singer for Black Sabbath: A position he agreed to while blacked out drunk. I can’t think of a better possible turn of events that would set the stage for the subsequent recording of this album and its end product.
Speaking of alcoholism, a few years after departing upon the release of Heaven and Hell (1980), original drummer Bill Ward was now back in the fold as well. When Dio exited Sabbath, he took Vinny Appice with him. The last thing Iommi and Butler wanted to do was audition singers and drummers. Why not call up their old mate and “get the band back together”, so to speak? With Ozzy Osbourne having achieved solo superstardom, and a beef between both camps still raging after nearly 5 years, obviously a full blown reunion wasn’t going to happen, but 3 out of 4 ain’t bad, or whatever Meat Loaf sang.
With all the puzzle pieces in place, it was now time for Black Sabbath Mk. III to make their mark on metal history. The setting for this triumphant conquest was a studio called The Manor. Not an ironically named rinky-dink operation, the Manor was indeed an old English manor, owned by none other than billionaire entrepreneur Richard Branson. Technically speaking, Sabbath recorded Born Again here, but not literally. They mainly indulged in their obligatory sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll excess, just so happening to record in between. Hell, the opening song is essentially a play by play of one said exploit.
The aptly titled “Trashed” chronicled a wild evening in which a drunken Gillan thought it would be a good idea to drive a go-kart around the grounds of the Manor (“The ladies of the Manor watched me climb into my car.”) It was all fun and games until Gillan was “turning, tires burning, the ground was in his sky”. All he could do was laugh; “The bitch was trashed.” Despite his reckless behavior, Gillan escaped the near lethal crash unscathed, subsequently writing a song that would infamously catch the attention of the US government. It’s so-called glorification of drunk driving easily cracked Tipper Gore’s Filthy 15, although if she had listened to Born Again beyond the opener, I’m sure there would’ve been a few other candidates for this prestigious list.
Following this rousing opener is an instrumental soundscape titled “Stonehenge”. Consisting of pulsating drums, ominous synths, and echoing bass, it’s very much in the vein of “E5150”, which proceeded “Mob Rules” on Mob Rules. This brief 2 minute instrumental would prove to be pivotal to the album’s subsequent tour, which featured a giant replica of Stonehenge behind the band. Infamously, at some venues, the massive props would barely clear the ceilings. This snafu would be forever immortalized in This is Spinal Tap, albeit with a miniature Stonehenge in place of an oversized one.
We’re then greeted by what I consider to be the crown jewel of Born Again, “Disturbing the Priest”. Much like “Trashed”, this song too was based on true events, as the band repeatedly received noise complaints from a nearby rectory while recording, literally “Disturbing the Priest”. While Gillan’s vocal melody is lifted from the old Ian Gillan Band tune, “Scarabus”, the rest of the song is a tour de force of truly wicked metal. The riffs are eerie, the lyrics are diabolical, and I still stand by the statement that Gillan’s vocals performance on here is the greatest in metal history.
After yet another soundscape in “The Dark”, an epic that rivals “Disturbing the Priest” in brilliance and heaviness comes lumbering in, “Zero the Hero”. Despite being the godfathers of doom metal, and coming off the heels of the devastatingly doomy Mob Rules at that, there is very little doom on Born Again outside of this song. That said, Sabbath makes it count with nearly 8 minutes of bone-crushing riffage, complete with abstract lyrics and creepy bass noises. While the jury is out on whether or not Guns N’ Roses lifted the lead riff for “Paradise City” (they probably did), what is for certain is that Cannibal Corpse covered the song for the Hammer Smashed Face EP (1993). In doing so, they were perhaps the first major name in heavy music to champion this oft-unsung album.
As we flip over to side B, we’re greeted by a song that is regularly panned as one of the worst in the Sabbath canon, “Digital Bitch”. Maybe it’s the crass lyrics or repetitive chorus or overall reckless abandon which fuels this uptempo rocker that turns people off. After all, this was the band responsible for such lyrical genius as “A National Acrobat”, “Spiral Architect”, and “Heaven and Hell”. To resort to “Keep away from the digital bitch” seemed more in the wheelhouse of say Mötley Crüe or Venom, which brings me to a conclusion I’ve echoed for years that sums up this whole album: Born Again sounds like Sabbath after listening to Venom and downing a bottle of Jack Daniels.
The lyrical sins of “Digital Bitch” should be all but atoned with the colossal power ballad of a title track. Again, Gillan’s surrealist lyricism (“The grey and plastic retards all floating in circles.”…huh?) and ear-shattering vocals carry this incredible suite. One can almost hear shades of “Planet Caravan” within the dreamy instrumentation of the chorus, and there’s most certainly some Dio-isms with the heavy and soft interplay. Having worked magic with this formula on songs like “Children of the Sea” and “The Sign of the Southern Cross”, “Born Again” almost feels like a barb at Dio, as if Iommi was saying musically, “We don’t need you for these types of songs.”
The inclusion of Gillan on this album led to many branding the band “Black Purple” or “Deep Sabbath”, which I always felt was a snide remark from people who never actually listened to Purple outside the hits. Sure, Born Again doesn’t sound like Sabbath per se, but it doesn’t sound like Purple either, outside of the blues-driven sleaze of “Hot Line”. Simple, stripped down, and straightforward, “Hot Line” comes off as a forgotten cut from Purple’s Who Do We Think We Are? (1973), albeit modernized with an 80s metal production (more on that later). If there was a cage match for the sleaziest Sabbath tune, it’d be between this and the Tony Martin sung “Born to Lose”.
Rounding it all out is yet another ballad-esque song in “Keep It Warm”. Sabbath were never one for love songs. When they did however step into this ring, they always delivered a knockout blow, thanks to their unusual approach to the format (i.e. “N.I.B.”, “She’s Gone”, “Country Girl”). “Keep It Warm” is no exception. Those heavy, blues-laden riffs and Gillan’s passionate vocals are as sexy as anything by fellow English metal pioneers Led Zeppelin in their skinny jeaned prime. Was it strange that a band of guys pushing 40 could still crank out a song this atmospherically erotic? Perhaps, but if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
As infamous as the music of Born Again itself is its production and cover art, so let’s tackle that, shall we? The overall mix (or lack thereof) of Born Again has been a qualm for many for now 40 years. Lying somewhere between robotic and muddy, I’m not sure a singular word exists to describe the sonic quality of this album. You just have to hear it for yourself. I’m of the disposition that it works for Born Again and Born Again alone. As for what “it” is, legend goes that Butler flew to New York with the master tapes and met with a team of engineers. What said engineers proceeded to do from there was the stuff of a Mary Shelley novel. Needless to say, the other members of Sabbath were less than pleased.
The mix wasn’t the only bone of contention among the band. So was its grotesque cover art of a devil baby, which upon first viewing, made Ian Gillan literally vomit. Granted, I’m sure copious amounts of alcohol and cocaine helped induce such a violent physical reaction, but I digress. The baby depicted was nicknamed “Sharon” by the band, named of course after Ozzy’s manager/wife and daughter of then manager, Don Arden. Senior Arden would act upon this gimmick by having a small person dressed as said devil baby open each show of the Born Again tour by crying, screaming, and eventually falling backwards off Stonehenge onto a pile of mattresses. Even Iommi, in all his drug-hazed daze, found this to be in poor taste.
When it came time to tour, Ward would ultimately bow out, having succumbed to his boozing ways yet again. He’d be replaced by Electric Light Orchestra drummer and fellow Brummie, Bev Bevan. By this point, it could be argued that this was less Sabbath and more a ’70s English rock supergroup. The setlist’s inclusion of Purple’s “Smoke on the Water” especially enforced this feeling. It would’ve been cool for Sabbath to blaze through “Showdown” or “Roll Over Beethoven” while they were at it, but alas, this was not to be.
That last sentiment applied to this incarnation of Sabbath altogether. Just as quickly as they came together, they fell apart. Bevan would return to ELO before they broke up again in 1986. Gillan would have better fortune, rejoining his old mates in Purple for the granddaddy of metal reunion albums and tours, Perfect Strangers. Butler would exit the fold not long after, leaving Iommi the sole torchbearer of the Sabbath name. It would take a couple more years for our beloved metal architect to get back on his feet again, but he persisted forward nevertheless.
The overall consensus surrounding Born Again has grown much kinder in recent years. I know more people now who love this album than loathe it, which wasn’t exactly the case when I discovered it nearly 15 years ago. Did this era of Sabbath deserve better? You bet your ass. As much as I adore Perfect Strangers, there is part of me who selfishly wishes the Purple reunion could’ve waited another year or two for a follow up to Born Again. While we’ll never truly know what the future held, what we do have is the music and memories of what was truly an off the rails era; an era in which Sabbath was Born Again *banshee screams here*.