MICHAEL KOSTER for The New Mexican
August 5, 2004
The biggest acts on Ozzfest 2004 -- Judas Priest and Black Sabbath -- played Albuquerque's
Journal Pavilion on a beautiful, clear summer night whose tranquility was shattered
by deafening volume. Of course, the audience Tuesday was hardly there for tranquility.
Ozzfest is all about thunderous riffs, chest-thumping volume, looking mean or
sexy or both and dressing entirely in black, preferably with dash of S&M flair.
It's also about tradition. Heavy metal can be traced back to the
late '60s, and this year's headliner, Black Sabbath, with 70 million
records sold and counting, is the Rosetta stone of the genre. Judas
Priest, one of heavy metal's most popular bands, has been a huge
presence since the late 1970s. Two generations of fans turned out in
droves for this year's sold-out Ozzfest.
I was braced for disappointment. Ozzfest bands such as Black Label Society, Lacuna
Coil and even thrash-metal gods Slayer are young enough to bang their heads and
mean it. They look the part. But middle-age headbangers are a shoo-in for self-parody
of the Spinal Tap variety.
Some of that self-parody was apparent in Judas Priest's set.
Frontman Rob Halford's high-end vocals are as earsplitting and operatic
as ever, and the band's tight sound and hammering leads are still
impressive. But choreographed dual guitarists shaking their perfect
hair in tandem is a bit much.
Black Sabbath is an even older band, so I was surprised when members came on with
such power, kicking off with the great Vietnam-era antiwar anthem"War Pigs."
Giant video screens showed footage of Vietnam-era door gunners morphed into images
of Baghdad being bombed, goose-stepping SS troops and scenes of mass destruction.
All to the soundtrack of a band that was bottom-heavy, pitch-perfect and vastly
superior to all of the younger acts on the ticket. Kids and old fogies alike sang
every word.
Enter John "Ozzy" Osbourne, a puffy, overweight, drug-addled pop
god who is indescribably "cute," in a grandfatherly kind of way. He
shuffled across the stage like an old man in what looked like silk
pajamas, jumped up and down as if afflicted with some kind of muscular
malady and mumbled inaudibly into his mike.
Yet the founder of Ozzfest and original Black Sabbath vocalist managed to ooze
oddball coolness. There's nothing else quite like him in popular culture, and
he's a lot of fun to watch.
The clownlike charisma of Ozzy, whose voice has managed to hold up quite well
throughout the years, was the best thing about Black Sabbath that night. While
bassist Geezer Butler exuded a frantic energy with his 100-notes-a-minute playing,
the other two members of the band looked tired. Guitarist Tony Iommi (who in middle
age bears a shocking resemblance to Geraldo Rivera) barely moved the entire evening,
pumping out a competent three-chord rhythm and uninspired leads. Overweight, shirtless
drummer Bill Ward looked like he could have been sitting in on a ho-hum night
with the Grateful Dead. His playing was equally competent and listless.
Given their saggy appearance, it's no wonder Black Sabbath wouldn't let the press take photographs.
I viewed Ozzfest from the general-admission lawn, which is where most people sit
if they can avoid the spit and beer puddles. Lawn seats are a little more forgiving
on the ears but too distant from the stage. Were it not for the three giant video
monitors, I wouldn't have known what any of the artists' faces looked like.
Signs outside the amphitheater announced that people attending productions can't
bring in food or water for "safety reasons." I had to throw out my 89-cent bottle
of water so the theater could sell me the same one inside for $3.50. A large beer
ran $8. The worst moment of the night was when hunger inevitably forced me to
buy a soggy chicken sandwich (no condiments; the food booth ran out) and barely
identifiable grease-logged "chips" for $6.
Everything is low quality and the prices are ridiculously inflated, which prompts
the question: Is Clear Channel trying to piss people off? I mention this because
being annoyed as you're squeezed for every penny is a regular part of the Journal
Pavilion experience. It detracts from the music. |
