TOOL and Concerts

On Friday, June 8, 2007, I saw Tool in concert at the 1^st Mariner Arena in Baltimore, formerly known as the Baltimore Arena.  They played for two hours with no encore, and pretty much played the songs as they are on the albums, with over half the set from their newest (and in my opinion best) album 10,000 Days: Jambi, Stinkfist, Forty-Six and 2, Schism, Rosetta Stoned, Flood, Wings 1&2, Lateralus, and Vicarious.  9 songs in two hours = 13 minutes a song!  Since the running time for the studio versions of the songs comes up to less than an hour and a half, some of the songs were obviously extended.  I had to endure Friday rush hour traffic, including a substantial detour off 95 North, and the venue was NOT air conditioned, which the hot, humid June weather made quite noticeable.

 I’m not going to claim that I didn’t enjoy the show, because I did.  These guys are talented musicians and I like their music.  And they focused on the album of theirs which I like the most.  But it prompted me to consider certain things.

 This was concert 134 for me, since October 1984.  Tool was clearly worthwhile as I had never seen them before and had no idea what to expect – even though I’ve known of this band since 1992 when their first album, Undertow, came out, and their first single, “Sober” dominated the airwaves and MTV.  I don’t know why I ignored them for so long, as I liked “Sober” and hadn’t heard anything by them that I didn’t like.  I guess I just never got around to getting into them, and it took Maynard’s “we’re not worthy” worshipping at the altar of King Crimson to get me to pay attention to them. 

  OK, so seeing Tool was a good idea.  But why bother going to a concert at all?  Just to see the band play?  Why is that important?   You can hear the music at home – any song you want, not just the greatest hits the band wants to shove down our throats tour after tour (“the fans demand it”, they claim.  Which fans?  They never asked ME).  Maybe because seeing a band play live gives you an experience you don’t get at home.  Every band claims to be great live, but they clearly differ in this.

 At one extreme are bands like Rush, who go onstage and play every song, note-for-note, exactly as it is on the album, with no improvisation, no jamming, and no unexpected gems popping out.  Alex and Geddy pretty much stay on their sides of the stage and play.  Neil gets his drum solo, though I find drum solos so dull that as far as I’m concerned, they don’t really count as “improvisation”.  More like “cure for insomnia.”   A reviewer made similar remarks about Boston, noting that from a distance, for all we knew these were cardboard cutouts of the band members; he wished Tom Scholz would sneeze or bend over to tie his shoelace so we could see it was a real, living human being up there.  For bands like this, there doesn’t appear to be any dramatic improvement over simply staying at home and listening to whatever album you want to hear – especially older ones they never play live!!! – such that you should feel compelled to pay $60 for a ticket, endure the crowds and parking lots, and see them again for the xth time. 

 At the other extreme is the Grateful Dead, where every night was a different set, they frequently played covers, and often had guest musicians – and you could expect a jam.  Moreover, they might play a familiar song in a different way, faster, slower, heavier, etc.  Even so, a Dead concert had a format you could count on: two sets divided by an intermission, with “drums/space” in the second set, a de facto second intermission as most of us don’t really care to watch Mickey and Bill square off against each other yet again.   But here again, you’re getting something completely different than what you could expect at home.  I don’t have an entire stadium parking lot of stoned hippies, selling dope and clever Calvin & Hobbes toke-off vs. Bart Simpson t-shirts at my apartment!  Somewhat more of an incentive to get off your butt and over to RFK, Nissan Pavilion, or Merriweather.

 In the middle are bands like AC/DC, Deep Purple, and Blue Oyster Cult.  You can expect certain songs are going to be in the set, but they leave room for jams and you get an experience you don’t get by simply sitting at home listening to the music on your stereo.  Ian Gillan talks alot during the show, though much of what he says doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense; his introductions to songs are somewhat obtuse.  Eric Bloom can usually be counted on to make a few clever offhand remarks.  In this regard, Jethro Tull are probably one of the better bands: Ian Anderson not only jumps around with his flute, far more spry than you would imagine a man his age would be, but also very clever and witty with the onstage chat.  He’s one singer where you DON’T think to yourself, “shut the fuck up and play more music!”

 Concert Crap. One element I could do without are these “call and response” sections.  Metallica, Judas Priest, and Iron Maiden are worst at this.  15 minutes of “seek and....” “SEEK AND DESTROY!!!” “Very good!  Again!”  which could have been 2-3 songs.  Thanks!  I came to hear music, not to scream lyrics I’ve known for years at a band who also know them (or do they need 10,000 screaming idiots to remind them?).  MOSHING is another idiocy.  Whoever came up with that concept deserves a lobotomy, though I wonder if it would really make much of a difference.  Then there are these “food court druids”, especially at metal shows (Marilyn Manson comes to mind).  You know the type.  They can’t simply wear a t-shirt and jeans; they have to dye their hair black, white, purple, or other weird colors, have some tattoos and piercings, and wear some sort of really outlandish outfit (e.g. those black trench coats or fishnet stockings) and you can tell they take themselves SOOOO seriously.  It’s a whole IMAGE and PERSONA they’re cultivating.  Anyone wearing KISS makeup – or anything close to the full costume – at a KISS show definitely qualifies (has anyone ever seen anyone pretending to be Eric Carr or Vinnie Vincent?).  What are you, a General in the KISS Army?  Give me a break.  Finally, there’s the complete asshole who can only enjoy himself if he gets totally tanked and yells, screams, bumps into people, and makes a complete ass of himself; his “concert experience” consists of ruining it for everyone else around him.  At least potheads and Deadheads don’t do this.  Moshing at a Dead show?  I don’t think so.

 Venues.  I’ve gone to a fair amount of shows at clubs, which are an amazingly good deal.  Several times cheaper than a stadium show and no bad seats in the place – none of this business of paying $80 for a seat up in section 30,000,000 where you need the Hubble Telescope to see the band, AND the sound quality totally sucks.  Plus at the club shows the band frequently hangs around to sign autographs with the 30 fans it has left.  Good luck trying to meet Mick or Keith at the stadium concert.  Finally, you’re not stuck in a huge parking lot, breathing that fragrant aroma of carbon monoxide, for an hour trying to get out.  The trick is to show up in between the last (completely incompetent) opening act and the headliner.  Woo hoo!

 T-shirts.  When we were younger we’d eagerly snap up as many as we could.  We didn’t have many, so we wanted to accumulate a collection.  As years went by, and we can’t wear the Judas Priest or Metallica shirt at the office (and we have 3-4 of each anyway) AND the prices went up, it got to the point where you look and go, “do any of these $35 shirts reach out and blow me? Otherwise forget it.”

 I still go to concerts.  But I no longer have the youthful enthusiasm, unlimited energy, and clueless tolerance for inane bullshit and idiocy that I had when I was 15.   Life goes on. “Plus ça change, plus c’est le meme chose.”

Che Guevara

Yet again I noticed someone on the street wearing a Che Guevara shirt. I had to wonder: what relevance does he have today, and what is the big deal anyway?

 Here are the most important facts regarding him:

1.         Born in Argentina, June 28, 1928.  Real name Ernesto Guevara de la Serna.  His nickname “Che” comes from his affectation of peppering his talk with “che”, a phrase meaning, “man” or “pal” and used often by South Americans.

2.         Toured South America in 1951 – the so-called “Motorcycle Diaries” reflect this voyage.  He also figures in the recent movie “Lost City”, which deals with not only the 1959 revolution but also much of the events in Cuba after that.  However, it does not focus on Guevara himself. 

3.         A medical student with asthma, he became a revolutionary.  He had no formal military training – the Argentine government exempted him from conscription because of his asthma.  Keeping this in mind, he was a modestly competent guerilla leader.

4.         The only successful revolution with which he is associated, and with which he admittedly had a major role, was the Cuban revolution in 1959.  He was highly placed within the Cuban government under Castro, but his actual role in the regime amounted to little more than summary executions of various political enemies.   As is so often the case, Marxist revolutionaries are fairly capable of overthrowing timid dictators like Batista but equally incompetent at successfully running a country once they take over.

5.         He left Cuba in 1965, tried, unsuccessfully to incite rebellion in the Congo, then tried, again unsuccessfully, to incite rebellion in Bolivia.

6.         He was tracked down and killed in October 1967 by Bolivian soldiers trained by the US Special Forces.  Various mementos, recovered by Rodriguez, the CIA operative who helped find him, are proudly displayed at Langley.

 So when you boil it all down, Che Guevara’s biggest and most important “legacy”, if you can call it that, is communist Cuba.  However, this seems to ignore an even larger and more important figure – obviously Fidel Castro himself.  Who led the rebellion?  Castro.  Who dealt with Krushchev?  Castro.  Who ran the country, all the way up to the present day?  Castro.  Who kept the country a going concern even after Soviet aid dried up following the fall of the Soviet Union? Castro.  Guevara left the country in 1965 and  hadn’t done a whole lot until that point anyway.  And as noted above, he was unsuccessful at the two subsequent revolutions he was involved with.

 As of today, Cuba is a poor, crappy country, second only to Haiti in poverty.  The Castro apologists blame the US for this; we embargo Cuba yet trade with Vietnam and China.  Ah...but we’re not refusing to TRADE with Cuba, we’re refusing to EXPLOIT Cuba.  Since, as they claim, the United States invariably unfairly exploits any country with which it conducts trade, Cuba should be prosperous and thriving without the yoke of Yankee imperialism upon its neck (and things are much worse for the Chinese and Vietnamese since “Tio Sam” became welcome there once again...right?).  How can we hurt Cuba if we’re not doing anything to it?  “Yankee go home”?  Fine, we went home.  So what’s the problem? 

 None of this, of course, is Guevara’s fault.  He left the country in 1965 and died in 1967.  Any success or failure of Cuba since then is the full responsibility of Fidel Castro.  So why is it Che Guevara on the t-shirts, and not Castro?

Star Wars 1977-2007

It’s now been 30 years since the first movie came out.  I was 8 years old at the time and remember it well.

            A brief bit of background.  Back in 1977, we were still living in Maryland.  Jimmy Carter was President of the US, Brezhnev was running the USSR, and Iran was still run by the Shah.  VCRs & DVDs were unknown, cable TV was nonexistent.  You could rent a projector and some films – in those large metal tins – but the inconvenience of doing so was such that it was only practical for birthday parties and special occasions, not for an otherwise dull Friday night.  There was no Erol’s, no Blockbuster, no Hollywood Video, no Netflix.  Bottom line was: if you didn’t see a film in the movie theater when it came out, you weren’t going to see it. None of this business we have today of “ahh, I’ll wait for it to come out on DVD or cable.”  And even if you did like a film, you only saw it once.  

   

            Then came “Star Wars”.  People went nuts.  Literally everyone was talking about it.  My friends had seen it several times – unheard of for anyone to see a film in the theater more than once – and had the action figures before we had even seen it once.  Finally my father took my brother and I to see it, and we were hooked.  This was, bar none, the best film we had ever seen.  And there was no shortage of people who shared that opinion.  No movie had gripped the country so universally as “Star Wars” did.

 Star Wars.  We’re introduced to Luke Skywalker, a simple farm boy on Tattooine; Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, the mysterious Jedi Knight; Han Solo & Chewbacca, the rogues; C3PO and R2-D2, the droids; the spunky yet cute Princess Leia; and of course, Darth Vader – 7 feet tall of black plastic and bad-ass James Earl Jones voice.  Here was a villain you could really sink your teeth into – bad and cool at the same time.

            Then there was the dialogue, half the clever lines from Solo’s mouth: “...that’s because a droid doesn’t rip your arms from your sockets when it loses...”; “I hope that old man fixed the tractor beam, otherwise this is going to be one short trip”; “I don’t know, I can imagine quite a bit!”; “I don’t care what you smell!”; “Attacking a Death Star sounds like suicide to me,” and so on.  Even the droids get some snappy conversation, with C3PO and R2-D2 bickering on Tattooine like a couple.  They’re not simple toasters or appliances, they have personalities of their own (gay robots!  Now that’s original!). 

            The plot was simple: they go to the Death Star, rescue the Princess, Obi-Wan gets killed by Vader, they escape to the rebel planet, the Death Star follows them back, and finally they destroy the Death Star at the last moment with help from The Force and Han Solo.  Good vs. Evil, and good wins. 

 The Empire Strikes Back.   By this point, summer 1980, we were living in Paris and came back to the US for home leave.  We saw the film with our cousins.  Boy, what a difference.  Luke goes off to Degobah to learn how to be a Jedi from a little green muppet, Yoda (“you seek YODA!”); Han, Leia, Chewie & the droids get captured in Cloud City by Darth Vader & Boba Fett, no thanks to Mr Smooth “Colt 45” Ladies Man, Lando Calrissian; Luke makes his way back, ignoring Yoda and Obi-Wan, and loses his hand in the climactic battle with Darth Vader, who announces, much to our surprise (HOLY SHIT!) that “Luke, I AM YOUR FATHER!”  We know that now, of course, but at the time it hit us like a ton of bricks.  Darth Vader, Mr Evil, is Luke’s father? WTF???  And Han encased in carbonite, prisoner of Boba Fett – and this LOVE developing between him and Leia?  Hold on, what’s going on here? 

 Return of the Jedi.  We had to wait 3 years (and during a hot summer in London)...to see Leia in a bikini!  No...wait... to see Luke finish his Jedi training and return to face Darth Vader, now knowing that he is his father.  And we find out that Luke is Leia’s brother, so the way is clear for Han to marry her (how conVENient!).  I could do without the Ewoks, but they had a role to play in this (picture C3PO floating around in a chair, after having warned Luke that, “I’m not programmed to impersonate a diety!”).  The “attack the second Death Star” was somewhat of a repeat (though with Lando at the controls of the Falcon) while we had Luke battling Vader – again - while the Emperor laughed and sneered.  Did he FORSEE that Vader was going to drop him down the shaft?  Apparently not.  Then finally some quality time, however brief, between Vader & Luke, and the mask comes off at last.  And Han and Leia get married.  Happily ever after!  “...and there was much rejoicing!!!”

             Next to these three, the “prequels” don’t come close to the same power and dynamic.  The action is there – iPod races, great star battles, light saber dueling between the various Darths and Grievouses, (even Yoda getting some action there) etc. but somehow something is missing.  “The Phantom Menace” is far too weak as a beginning, and although “Attack of the Clones” and “Revenge of the Sith” get progressively better – and finally tie into Episode IV at the end – the weak link in the chain prevents what would otherwise be a fantastic 6 film series from being what it should be.  None of the characters of the first three movies come near close to as bad as Jar-Jar Binks, and Amidala is NO Princess Leia – one daughter who far exceeds her mother.  The best part is Ewan McGregor as the young Obi-Wan Kenobi, particularly the way he easily disposes of General Grievous.

            It’s also amazing to learn, knowing the vast success of “Star Wars” and its sequels, that (as with many other dramatically successful films) it almost never got made.  Lucas had phenomenal problems with the first film and at Fox, Alan Ladd was the only one backing him.  To everyone else at the studio, this was some crackpot with a crazy space epic no one would take seriously.  Just imagine some Hollywood type, pointing fingers like “guns”, yakking away, “see, here’s the story...there’s this kid, right, Skywalker, he’s on a farm, and these robots, see, like, come out of space, and the Empire is looking for them, right?  And he goes to an old guy with a light sword, and they go off with a pirate and a big hairy ape, to some Death Star, and there’s this really cute Princess, and a tall bad guy in a black plastic mask...”  You get the picture.  The trailers do a fantastic job of making an excellent film look like it will be nothing better than 90 cheesy minutes of space crap.  It’s a good thing so many people saw the film for themselves and spread the word far more effectively than the studio’s inane marketing efforts.  This was the magic of... “STAR WARS.”

 Obsession.  Among the Star Trek faithful, a distinction is made between “Trekkers” and “Trekkies”, implying that the former have their devotion under control and the latter have some unhealthy obsession with the series.  There seems to be a similar obsession with regard to Star Wars.  An entire industry has sprung up, including various novels and graphic series.  Boba Fett has a life of his own – whereas his role in the movies is limited to a few lines.  Are all the other bit players – Hammerhead, the robot bounty hunter, Greedo, etc. – entitled to be fleshed out into full characters?  I don’t read the Star Wars novels or comics, don’t go to the conventions, and I don’t even have Episodes I-III or Clone Wars on DVD – nor did I camp out for any of the films.  On “That 70s Show” Eric Foreman is the geeky character assigned the unhealthy obsession with the movie (at a time at which even “The Empire Strikes Back” hadn’t come out).  I will admit that when we were kids in the late 70s, we did collect the action figures (including the large Darth Vader and Chewbacca ones) and the X-Wing and Tie Fighter toys.  By the time “ESB” rolled by we had gotten bored with Star Wars and had moved on to GI JOE and Britains figures, mainly because by then I was living in Europe and beginning my obsession with World War II, particularly Germany...but that, as they say, is a different story.... 

The Beast is Back in Black

On Wednesday, May 23, I finally got my car back from the body shop.  I had dropped it off on February 5, and had to drive two different cars until now.  It was originally supposed to simply have the front bumper cover and left fender replaced, and it turned into a complete repainting.

 The car had last been painted from September 1997 to January 1998, which was a color change from the original factory teal (aka “Dark Aqua Metallic”) to black.  Even that involved bringing the car back to paint the engine compartment, buff it several times, and finally have the decals put back on in June.   Until then it had the Knight Rider jet black finish to it.  And since it will be some time before I put the decals back on again this time, it will be KITT again for awhile.  Here are some thoughts about the whole deal.

 Work.  This car is my daily driver.  I drive it in good weather, rain, snow, etc.  I park it in garages, on the street, in mall parking lots, etc., everywhere I go.  I take pains to park away from the idiots and morons, but I can’t control when some dumbass will pick – of all the spaces in an otherwise empty parking lot – to park his behemoth of an Explorer next to my car.  So since 1998 it had accumulated a wide variety of dents, dings, scratches, and even some rust.  The paint on the hood and roof began to oxidize (probably just the clearcoat) and became a cloudy grey instead of jet black.  Suffice to say, it had seen better days and was in desperate need of attention.  Thanks to the body shop, all those dents, dings, scratches and rust are gone, and once again it’s straight.  Even more to the point, because black is the one color which is least forgiving of even the least imperfection. 

 Cheap, good, and fast – pick any two.  Well, the paint job is great, the price was right, so the missing element was time.  This is why it took so long.   It was frustrating and annoying, wearing my patience to the bone, but the wait is over.

 Rarity.  Between 1987 and 1992, they only made less than 55,000 Formulas.  There are only 6,500 ‘91-92 Formulas, and of these, only 1,000 are 1992 models.  Of these, even less have the far more desirable 5.7L V8 (aka “Formula 350”); the rest have the anemic 5.0L V8.  The days are long gone that I regularly saw third generation Formulas on the street, and months go by before I see another 91-92 Formula.  These cars are getting rarer and rarer every day.

 Other cars.  The inequality of this is that few owners of economy cars have ever driven, much less owned and driven on a daily basis, any sort of performance car.  In Brazil and Europe, performance cars are extremely rare, limited to the Porsches and Ferraris, with no Firebirds, Camaros or Mustangs available for the common man (or woman) with a limited budget to enjoy.  Scoff, if you wish, that Camaros and such are “poor man’s sports cars” (which is true) but there was an excellent reason why the 1965 Mustang sold so well: until it came around there was NOTHING which came close to filling this valuable niche in the market, a performance car that the average person could afford.  Truth be told, the Firebird is not put together like a Swiss watch, with the top quality ingredients, fit and finish of a BMW or Mercedes.  Some of the models are extremely cheap in appearance.  And unlike Hondas and Toyotas, these are not reliable cars.  Even when pampered, lavished, and kept up on routine maintenance, they will still break down and give all sorts of problems.  Part of the reason the cars are getting rarer and rarer is that there is little reason to salvage or maintain the lower (non-Z/28 or Formula/Trans Am) models, and not enough motivation to do so even for the performance models.  Even my car, with the top V8 available, in the last year for its generation (1992) only has a blue book value of $4-5,000. 

 Having said that, how does the car compare against a 2006 Nissan Versa (rental car) and 1998 Dodge Neon (customer car) which I drove while I was waiting for my own car to be finished?

1.  Fuel economy.  Hands down, both economy cars won this big time – hardly surprising.  They could pass a gas station without stopping and I could get down to Stafford and back without filling up all the time.  With gas getting expensive again, this was a big plus.

2.  Performance.  The flip-side of this! The Versa could get out of its own way from a stop, but quickly ran out of breath.  It’s a hot rod so long as you never leave a parking lot.  As soon as you get on a major road, let alone the highway, you’re quickly reminded that it’s a 4 cylinder under the hood.  In the Neon I frequently had to put the gas pedal to the floor just to get up to 60.  Whereas in the Formula, with its 300 horsepower V8, (even with 210,000 miles) I can get the car moving quickly to 60 with only part throttle.  It gets up to 80 without breaking a sweat.  And with its wide tires (245/50ZR16 size on 16x8” wheels), low stance, and performance suspension, the car handles terrific.  The Versa and Neon both wallowed on curves and their narrow, skinny wheels & tires did a poor job of biting the road. 

            People have asked me, “don’t you get frustrated in this muscle car when you’re stuck in traffic?”  Yes, I do.  But I get frustrated stuck in traffic in ANY car – even a Versa or Neon that can’t even cut loose when the traffic does lets up.  Traffic jams are frustrating no matter what car you drive.

            It’s clear to me that the people who cynically whine that “you can’t use all that power” have never owned such cars and are just full of sour grapes.  I haven’t been to the dragstrip since 1998 and yet I’ve still been able to enjoy the power, performance and handling of my car on the roads, highways, etc. without street racing, without a stack of tickets for speeding or reckless driving (you can get both in an economy car if you’re simply unlucky or a bad driver) or prohibitively expensive gas or insurance.  Some cops have it out for such cars – I know from personal experience – but others are, to the contrary, performance enthusiasts and far from being hostile to Firebird and Camaro drivers, respect and admire such cars.

3.  Features.  The Versa, despite being the cheapest rental car, had a killer stereo.  Lots of rich bass and midrange, perfect!  And it had power everything.  None of this yank-yank-yank on the windows.  The Neon had a big hole where the stereo used to be, until Tim put a factory CD player in there – which worked 60% of the time.  The presets didn’t work on the radio, meaning I had to manually twirl the dial to change stations.  Hey, it’s a ’98 and I was paying zero per day for it, so I won’t complain.  The Formula is somewhere in between: manual everything but a respectable stereo with 6-disc changer in the trunk.

            Incidentally, I can convert the Formula to power windows, door locks, etc. if I scavenge a parts car for the required parts.  Maybe in the near future I’ll do so.  For the time being I’m focused on getting the rear spoiler and getting the car to pass inspection.

 It’s a great car, and now it looks as great as it runs.  It’s definitely a keeper.

Sabbath After Ozzy

Tonight I’m going to see Heaven & Hell, which is better known as Black Sabbath – albeit with Ronnie James Dio on vocals and Vinnie Appice on drums.  In this case, unlike the prior Sabbath tours with Dio, there will be no Ozzy material sung.  We’ll see how well that works.

 After the 1978 Never Say Die tour, Black Sabbath reached a crossroads.  They could no longer continue with Ozzy Osbourne.  The stories conflict about whether he was fired or quit – depending on who was asked, at what time – but the undeniable truth is that he left the band at that time.  After spending some (low quality) time alone, he was “rescued” by Sharon Arden (now the infamous Sharon Osbourne) and began his solo career.

 What happened to Black Sabbath?  Many were quick to write them off.  Geezer Butler (bassist) and Bill Ward (drummer) were uncertain, for their part, whether they wanted to continue the band without Ozzy.  Tony Iommi, the guitarist, hooked up with Ronnie James Dio – formerly singer for Elf and Rainbow, the latter with Deep Purple guitarist Ritchie Blackmore – and developed the album which became Heaven and Hell.  From then on, Sabbath has worked with various different singers with various degrees of success.  They even teamed up with Ozzy in 1985 (Live Aid), 1992 (a one-off reunion show), and 1997-01 for the Ozzfests. 

 As of right now, Black Sabbath, per se, is on hold.  Ozzy Osbourne’s own solo career is also on hold: the so-called Ozzfest, now FREE, doesn’t even feature his own solo band this summer, much less another Black Sabbath reunion.  Tony, Geezer, Dio, and drummer Vinnie Appice have reformed the early 80’s Sabbbath lineup and are touring as “Heaven & Hell”, obviously a tribute to the first non-Ozzy Sabbath album and by many fans’ standards – mine included – the best of them.  Here’s a brief review of the post-Ozzy sabbath, putting emphasis on the vocalists.

 Guitars.  Tony Iommi has always been Black Sabbath’s guitarist and its only consistent member.

 Bass.  Geezer Butler has always been the bassist when Ozzy was around.  The other bassists include Neil Murray (usually associated with Whitesnake) and Dave Spitz.  

Geezer remained a good friend of Ozzy, and even played in Ozzy’s solo band for awhile.

 Drums.  With the exception of the 1997 Ozzfest tour when Mike Bordin (Faith No More) played drums, Bill Ward has always been the drummer when Ozzy was in the band.  Vinnie Appice took over for “The Mob Rules” and the current “Heaven and Hell” tour and is the closest to a #2 drummer the band has ever had.  Bev Bevan (ELO) took over for Ward on the Born Again tour.  Cozy Powell, often associated with Rainbow, Whitesnake and even Emerson, Lake & Powell, stepped in for some time as well.  Bobby Rondinelli, also associated with Rainbow in the early 80s and Blue Oyster Cult in recent years, played with Sabbath on the Cross Purposes album and tour.  Ward’s health has been in decline throughout the 80s, 90s, and 00s, and he has a strong devotion to Ozzy, so his participation in the post-Ozzy era has been fairly limited.

 Vocals.  The first non-Ozzy vocalist, and who many consider the best, is Ronnie James Dio.  He was on Heaven & Hell (1980), The Mob Rules (1981) Live Evil (1981) and Dehumanizer (1992) and is currently singing with them as Heaven & Hell.  He’s got a decent voice and competent stage presence, but somehow I can’t seem to prefer him over Ozzy.  In addition to Elf and Rainbow, he had a modestly successful solo career throughout the 80s and 90s when he wasn’t in Sabbath.

 Ian Gillan.  The former Deep Purple Mark II vocalist came on for one album, Born Again (1983).  Apparently this DP-BS marriage didn’t work out, although on bootlegs the band plays “Smoke on the Water” live.  Gillan says he loved Born Again as it was originally recorded, hated the way it was mixed to the album, and also hated the album cover.  Shortly after the Born Again tour, Gillan rejoined the newly reformed Deep Purple and with the exception of a brief spell when Joe Lynn Turner (Rainbow) joined for one album (Slaves & Masters) has been with Deep Purple ever since.

 Glenn Hughes.  Another Deep Purple alumni, the frustrated bassist (Marks III and IV) who wanted to be a singer.  He got his wish, on Seventh Star (1986), an album which was supposed to be a Tony Iommi solo album, but which the record company thought would sell more as a Black Sabbath album.  Iommi is the only original member on that album.  Hughes didn’t pan out too well either, and left the band amidst the tour for this album, replaced mid-tour by Ray Gillen.  Oddly, Hughes did pair up again with Iommi for two other albums, both now labelled “Iommi”.  Hughes is actually a pretty good singer, and here he’s not trying to be James Brown.  He has a new solo album out, Music for the Divine, on which Chad Smith and John Fruciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers play.

 Ray Gillen.  Not to be confused with Ian Gillan, Ray Gillen came in to replace Hughes, worked briefly on the next album, Eternal Idol, before leaving the band.  Supposedly there is unreleased Eternal Idol material with Gillen singing, but what I have is a bootleg live album from the Seventh Star tour with his vocals on it.  After Sabbath, Gillen was in Badlands with former Ozzy guitarist Jake E. Lee, and died prematurely of AIDS in 1993.  Too bad, as he was another decent singer.

 Tony Martin.  Martin came in for Eternal Idol (1987), Headless Cross (1989), TYR (1990), Cross Purposes (1994), Cross Purposes Live (1995) and Forbidden (1995).  None of these albums are particularly special, and Tyr, a concept album about Norse mythology, is particularly unremarkable.  Although Martin has a great voice and a modest stage presence, he really doesn’t shine.  The only truly notable aspect of his tenure with the band was the reintroduction of several songs into the live set: “Symptom of the Universe” (with acoustic studio tail end put in, which I don’t hear on prior recordings including Ozzy-era live cuts), “Sabbath, Bloody Sabbath”, “The Wizard”, and “Into the Void”. 

 The ironic part about all this is that taken objectively, Ozzy Osbourne is probably the least talented vocalist the band has had.  Geezer Butler wrote most of the lyrics when Ozzy was in the band, and live material from his era shows him screwing up the lyrics fairly often.  These other singers frequently sing Ozzy’s material more faithfully than Ozzy himself.  Despite this, there is some undefinable, subjective quality he has which makes the band better with him than with any other singer, no matter how superior in singing or competence.  It’s like they were meant to be together, as overdramatic and irrational as it sounds. 

 PS – after concert review.   It was pretty damn good.  These days Ozzy’s performances take on the image of a drunken robot, seemingly confused about where he is and what he’s doing.  Is he singing?  Is he throwing buckets of water at the audience?  Is he clapping?  Dio always seems to be completely clear, hopping around, free arm swaying around, like he’s describing some magic story.  With Dio in command, the band gives the impression of a troupe of minstrels performing for a jaded, cynical king – the audience; maybe a super heavy, dark version of Jethro Tull.  Tony clearly enjoys himself, looking up and smiling periodically when he’s not focused on playing his SG without screwing up in front of everyone.  The three new songs are OK, but get caught in the “[XXXXXXX] of the [YYYYYYYYY]” format of chorus with a descending riff like a giant ogre going down a circular staircase.  They played my favorite songs from The Mob Rules, “Voodoo” and “The Sign of the Southern Cross”, two of the new songs, a few from Dehumanizer, and of course the usual slew from Heaven and Hell, including the title track but unfortunately not my favorite, “Lonely Is The Word.”   And there was much rejoicing....

Asterix!

[Originally posted in 2007, updated in 2020.]

When we lived in Paris we got hooked on this comic, about a group of Gauls (Roman-era French) who resist Julius Caesar and Roman occupation of Gaul thanks to a magic potion, brewed by their druid Getafix, that gives them superhuman strength.  The village, though unique, doesn’t seem to have a name (just “the Gaulish village”).  The artwork is by Albert Uderzo and the stories by Rene Goscinny.  By now there are about 33 books since 1961 and several animated films.  The Wikipedia entry is damn good, so I’ll compliment it rather than copy it.

 Gauls (Main Characters)

Asterix – hero. Very short, with blond hair & mustache, and he wears the classic winged helmet.  Witty, shrewd, but basically decent guy, very likable.  He can usually be counted to figure a way out of any tight situation and outwit any enemy.

Obelix – co-hero with Asterix, his best friend.  He builds menhirs (bizarre stone objects with no known use) but has no real source of income (except in “Obelix & Co.” when he gets rich selling menhirs to the Romans).  He only cares about eating wild boar and beating up Romans.  He’s not particularly bright but he’s still decent and fiercely loyal to Asterix.  He fell in the cauldron of magic potion as a baby, so the effects are permanent on him.

Dogmatix – Obelix’s cute little white dog.  A constant, loyal companion and frequently of assistance; in “Asterix and Cleopatra”, for instance, he guided them out of a pyramid they had been trapped inside.  He faints if anyone hurts a tree.

Getafix – their druid, responsible for brewing the magic potion.  He has other powers which he rarely displays.  He’s kidnapped by Goths (“Asterix and the Goths”) and temporarily rendered incoherent (“Asterix and the Big Fight”).  He doesn’t have an apprentice and he’s rather old, so it’s unclear what will happen if he dies.  He appears to be the only druid who knows the recipe to the magic potion.

Cacofonix – the bard.  He’s forbidden to sing (!) and is usually tied up by Fulliautomatix to make sure he doesn’t do so.  He rarely has any role in any story, except “Asterix the Gladiator” and “Asterix and the Normans”.

Fulliautomatix – the burly, husky blacksmith.  One of the pair of comic relief guys, he’s often either joking with Unhygienix or fighting him.

Unhygienix – the chubby fisherman.  Despite the fact that the village is on the coast, his fish are frequently accused of being less than fresh.  He jokes with – but often fights – Fulliautomatix.

Vitalstatistix & Impedimenta – the pompous, self-important chief and his pompous, self-important little wife.

Geriatrix & his hot wife – An incredibly old man (very spry, though!!) with an improbably hot wife (who doesn’t seem to have a name, aside from “Geriatrix’s wife”).

All Gaulish men have names ending in –ix, usually something silly; the women's names end in -a.   Britons, by the way, have names ending in –ax, Goths have names ending in -ic, and Romans generally have names ending in -us.

 Major Romans

Caesar & Cleopatra – Caesar is the consistent Roman nemesis to Asterix but occasionally deals with him on friendly terms.  Like Montgomery Burns & Homer Simpson, he consistently meets Asterix but never seems to recognize him individually and refers to them collectively as “Gauls”.

Brutus – Caesar’s own nemesis, sometimes figures as a plot device.

The other Romans have silly names on Latin variants.  In “Asterix & the Goths”, the pair pretend to be Romans and take the names “Asterus and Obelus”, but don’t do this in “Asterix the Legionary” when they actually are Roman legionaries.

 Themes

            The most common theme is that something is wrong with the magic potion, or Getafix, and they need to fix it – or the Romans have some sort of bizarre plot to defeat them.  The Romans have 4 camps around the village.  They’re dressed in Roman empire legionary armor (iron plates and helmet with cheekplates) though it’s at the time of Caesar (i.e. they should be in chain mail and bronze helmets that look like a baseball cap on backwards).  Rome, of course, is damn big and impressive.  But even Lutetia (ancient Paris) is considered a “big city” by the Gauls of the various villages.

 

 Travels

            Of course they go all over the place:  Helvetia (Switzerland) to find edelweiss to save the life of a poisoned Roman inspector; Egypt, to help build a palace for Cleopatra; Germania, to rescue Getafix from the Goths; Britannia, to supply their celtic comrades with magic potion in resistance to the Romans; Hispania (Spain) to return a small boy to his village, which is similarly resisting the Romans; Rome, to bring back Caesar’s laurel wreath to impress the chief’s brother-in-law; Greece, for the Olympic Games; Belgia, to compete against the well-fed Belgians in Caesar’s esteem; Corsica, to return an exiled Corsican warrior; India (Asterix and the Magic Carpet); the Middle East (including Israel) for – guess what? OIL!!!; ancient America, after being blown way off course at sea, an adventure which has them meeting both American Indians and Vikings (Asterix & the Great Crossing); Gergovia, near Alesia (site of Vercingetorix’s defeat by Caesar) (Asterix & the Chieftain's Shield); several trips to Lutetia; Norway/Sweden (land of Vikings) in both “The Great Crossing” and “Asterix and the Vikings”; and a tour of Gaul to get various different foods to impress the Romans with a banquet.  These trips give Goscinny and Uderzo a chance to parody the rest of Europe from the French perspective.  The Swiss are extremely clean; the Brits care for their tea and rugby; in Hispania condemned prisoners are thrown to the bulls instead of lions; the Belgians look just like Gauls except they eat insane amounts of food (a great adventure for Obelix); the Goths are extremely aggressive and warlike. 

             There are also a few adult references: Sean Connery (Roman spy druid Dubbleosix in “Asterix and the Black Gold”); Kirk Douglas (Spartacus the Greek in “The Galley of Obelix”); “Caesar”, the star of French writer Marcel Pagnol’s books, who plays bocci in Massilia and blocks a Roman patrol chasing Asterix (“Asterix and the Banquet”); a Briton bardic group of four guys with bangs, heavily popular with the ladies (“Asterix in Britain”); Don Quixote (see above) ("Asterix in Spain"); and they even stay in a manger in a small town in Judea, Bethlehem, because there’s no room at the inn....(Brian doesn’t show up, though).

             There is no sex, and no one dies – just Romans getting punched up.  To that extent they are pretty much children’s books, though very cleverly written.  A few are somewhat dark and cynical: “Asterix and the Laurel Wreath” and “Asterix and the Soothsayer”. 

 My favorites:

“Asterix and the Goths” – the Goths (Germans) capture Getafix with the idea of forcing him to make the magic potion for them so they can conquer everyone else.  They speak in “Gothic” (German old style text unintelligible to non-speakers) and are extremely militaristic, aggressive and nasty.  All Goths have a last name ending in –ic (Metric, Rhetoric, Electric, etc.) and have shaved heads and either a mustache or a beard.  They wear green helmets with spikes and horns.  Asterix, Obelix and Getafix brew the potion for several different overambitious Goths and provoke a civil war, leaving Germania in ruins, incapable of aggression against Gaul.  Individual Goths periodically show up in other stories but never as a main character.  This is one of the earlier stories, so the artwork and coloring are substandard; I wish they would redo it now that Uderzo has improved his technique dramatically.

 “Asterix the Legionary” – Tragicomix, a tall, handsome Gaul from their village, is shanghai’ed by the Romans to fight in their civil war in Africa between Caesar and Pompey, leaving his distraught (and deliciously attractive) fiance Panacea behind.  The only way to track him down is for Asterix and Obelix to join the legions themselves, so they volunteer for the Roman Army and get sent off to Africa, where they track down Tragicomix.  They have no use for the army food or discipline and drive their centurions (Roman officers) crazy.  They’re in a unit with other foreign volunteers including: an Egyptian (who only speaks in hieroglyphics); a fat Goth; a chubby Belgian with Tintin hairdo; a Brit with atrocious taste in food (the only one who loves the army food); a Greek; and an interpreter for the Goth and Egyptian.  After all the time they spend, adventure after adventure, beating up Roman legionaries, it’s a real hoot to see them, themselves, dressed up as legionaries.  They don’t beat each other up!

 “Obelix & Co.”  A young Roman fresh out of Latin School of Economics, Caius Preposterous (modelled after a young Jacques Chirac) concocts the Romans’ newest scheme to defeat the Gauls:  corrupt them by purchasing as many menhirs as possible from them.  Soon not only Obelix, but the other main male characters – Fulliautomatix, Unhygienix, and Geriatrix -  begin selling menhirs as well.  Eventually Preposterous’ scheme breaks down when Caesar can’t seem to unload all the menhirs on the Roman market – the Romans themselves enter the market and drive down the prices (and NO ONE knows what menhirs are for – even Obelix!).  An interesting economics lesson, well-told and humorous (similar to the “underwear gnome” episode of South Park).  Also some adult subjects addressed: Geriatrix’s (still) unnamed wife becomes attracted to Obelix once he starts making money and becomes “the most influential man in the village” – and Obelix proves he’s not as stupid as he often appears to be.

"Asterix & Caesar's Laurel Wreath".  One of the more cynical stories, Asterix and Obelix wind up in Rome, of all places, to procure Caesar's famous laurel wreath for their chief Vitalstatistix to impress his arrogant brother-in-law, Homeopathix, a wealthy merchant in Lutetia.  In doing so they become slaves for a wealthy Roman family and wind up in the Coliseum itself.  Highly amusing though I scarcely think it's suitable for children. I got it for the brief bit in Lutetia which actually has a nice illustration of the city, which now is Isle de la Cite, the island where Notre Dame is.  The cathedral - the actual cathedral of the Catholic archdiocese of Paris - has a crypt beneath with Roman era items, which is an excellent prelude for visiting the cathedral itself.  Homeopathix' arrogance perhaps indicates Parisians' contempt for the rest of France, much as Londoners seem to look down on the rest of Britain.

Asterix & the Great Crossing.  Blown off course, Asterix and Obelix wind up in the New World, and meet the locals, though obviously they're at a disadvantage in terms of trying to communicate with the Native Americans.  They actually get along pretty well, to the point where the local chief's daughter takes a liking to Obelix (!!!).  Eventually a team of Vikings lands, finds Asterix and Obelix, and brings them back to Norway thinking they've captured a pair of Native Americans - until a Gaulish slave recognizes them as fellow Gauls.  

 They’re available in all different languages, not only French and English, but even Latin (for the “Roman Empire”). There is an Asterix theme park outside Paris – which is actually very well done, the usual theme park rides including an impressive steel roller coaster.  I’ve actually been there but not Euro Disney, which opened after I left.

Women

All women are different.

Some are nice, warm, loving, caring, affectionate; some are cold, cruel, evil, nasty bitches.

Some need a man 24/7 to define them, they go nuts unless they have a boyfriend or husband; some are independent and only hook up when they really like the guy, and can get along on their own.

Some are greedy, insatiable for money; some don’t really care about money or material goods.  All women love to shop, to various degrees.

Some are smart, some are stupid stupid stupid!  Watch out – some of the “dumb” ones are sandbagging!  And occasionally you find “smart” ones who aren’t as smart as they think they are.

Some are exciting, some are dull.

Some women are flirtacious and make every guy think she’s interested in him (these women are popular, I wonder why!); some are cold and contemptuous even with men they do like; but most tend to be warm with men they like, cold with men they don’t like, and polite with the rest.

Some are pretty, some are stunning, some are average, and some are...well, less so.

Some are loyal and faithful, some are cheating.

Some are short, some are medium, some are tall.

Some love sex and have voracious appetites; some don’t care for it; and some simply enjoy it but don’t seem to care much about it.

Some believe that size matters, others believe it doesn’t if the guy doesn’t know how to use it.

Some are white, some are black, some are Asian, some are Latina/Portuguesa/Brasileira – and of course, some are mixture of these.

Some are skinny, some are BIG, some are voluptuous – though women can and do gain and lose weight.

Some women can debate politics, some women can’t be bothered to think of such things (“fiddle dee dee”).

Some are sharp, some are normal, and some are downright crazy.

Some go crazy a certain time of the month, others seem to be stable all month long.

Some like older men, some like men their own age, some like younger men.  Some even like other women, though I believe bisexuality, like lesbianism, is a small minority and not as prevalent as some guys seem to want to believe.

Some women will sleep with any man who pays their rent; some have morals and standards and cannot be bought at any price (yes, those women DO exist – though the first group would prefer to believe otherwise...)

Some are wise, though not perfect; others are fools, doomed to make the same mistakes over and over, never learning or changing.

Some women have a refreshingly accurate impression of their own self-worth; others suffer from excessively low self-esteem; and yet others seem to think of themselves as goddesses, worthy of everything and entitled to settle for nothing less.

Some are honest (relatively so!), while others will lie about anything to anyone at any time.

Some women make great mothers; others are selfish and should be sterilized against their wills (“You! Out of the gene pool!”) because even these women seem to want children.

Some know how to wear makeup, wear clothes, or fix their hair; others seem to slap on makeup with a paintbrush (usually the less attractive ones who believe makeup will make an ugly girl pretty – no, it just makes an ugly girl into an ugly girl with too much makeup); and others don’t wear makeup at all, either beause they are stunning or because they can’t be bothered.

Some women smoke, some toke, and some don’t smoke anything at all.  Same thing with booze.

Some women exercise, some exercise until they get married (!), and some don’t exercise at all.

Some women work and expect to support themselves and pay their fair share of the household; some do the bare minimum – especially if they’re between rich boyfriends/husbands – but eventually expect some guy to support them so they can sit on their ass or shop all day, or fool around while he’s at work trying to satisfy her insatiable desire for wealth for its own sake (t-shirts: “you better make more than I can spend” and “size doesn’t matter as long as you buy me stuff”).

Some have beautiful voices, some have average voices, some sound like Darth Vader (heavy smokers).

Some women read books (those things with words and no pictures or ads), others just read fashion magazines, recipes, or Cosmo.

 The list goes on.  Every woman is different and special, in her own way.