The clownishness of this entire presentation left me anticipating that the Black Sabbath reunion would be a joke, too--which, unexpectedly, it was not. Sabbath was given zero respect during its heyday, but the subsequent grunge revolution proved that the rudiments of the outfit's sound are not to be dismissed. To put it plainly, the music is awesomely, infectiously dumb--and so simple that Osbourne, guitarist Tony Iommi and bassist Geezer Butler (only drummer Bill Ward was missing from the original lineup) were able to reproduce it flawlessly even after nearly twenty years apart. Iommi's guitar emitted enormous chunks of stupidity that fell like catapulted boulders and caused nearly as much damage. The humming, buzzing, bottomless chords at the base of "Black Sabbath" (the 1969 track from which the band took its name) caused the stadium to vibrate like a tuning fork; if the joint tumbles to the ground during the next few weeks, Denver Broncos owner Pat Bowlen has these guys to thank for making his fondest desire come true. Osbourne owes Iommi and Butler a debt of gratitude, too. The maelstrom whipped up by "War Pigs," "Iron Man," "Sweet Leaf" and the rest was so violent that the only thing he could do was bark out the tunes' familiar words while hanging onto his microphone stand for dear life. As a result, for the first time in years, he didn't seem like a buffoon. Will miracles never cease?
Apparently not, because Link Wray, 68, proved to be more exciting live than anyone at his jam-packed Bluebird Theater date on June 28 had a right to expect. The Bluebird advertised the show as starting at 8 p.m., but Wray did not emerge from the wings until 11:30, prompting comedians in the crowd to suggest that the ridiculously lengthy delay had been precipitated by his decision to take a late-evening nap. And perhaps it had, because he was every bit as energetic as the musicians backing him up--and they were approximately one-third his age. Wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt, dark glasses and a waist-length ponytail that practically screamed "fashion risk," Wray stalked the stage like John Hinckley with the scent of Ronald Reagan in his nostrils, peeling off a seemingly endless series of deafening guitar runs that still weren't loud enough for him; he must have asked the sound man to turn up his ax fifteen times during his ninety minutes in the spotlight. The results were sloppy in the extreme, in part because Wray insisted on signing autographs in the middle of solos. But by night's end, you couldn't help but feel revitalized, perhaps even inspired. Based on his performance, those of you who think you're too old to rock and roll should be ashamed of yourselves.
Here's a note from Dan Jacobs via the Internet. "Great article on the fetish show at Rock Island," he writes about Westword contributor Kelly Lemieux's piece "Whipping It Good," published in our June 19 issue. "But just for your information, [pinup model] Bettie Page is still alive and well. She can be contacted in care of the Bettie Scouts of America at http://www.xnet. com/~dav/bp/bettie.shtml#stuff." We hope that information helps you Bettie Page fans out there rest a little easier.
Pin up these. On Thursday, July 3, Assorted Jellybeans are available for tasting as part of the "Skankin' in the Pit" tour stopping at the Bluebird Theater, and Westword's Marty Jones joins Frank Hauser Jr. and Andy Monley for a songwriter's night at the Across the Street Cafe. On Friday, July 4, the Greyboy Allstars play for the first of two nights at the Fox Theatre; Mark Hummel does likewise at Brendan's; Boss 302, the Ray-Ons and Electric Summer shine at the 15th Street Tavern; and Cabaret Diosa presents what it describes as a "firecracker extravaganza" at the Boulder Theater. On Saturday, July 5, David Wilcox is among the performers dropping by for the Cherry Creek Arts Festival in (you guessed it) Cherry Creek. On Sunday, July 6, the Undulating Band, from Arlington, Texas, shakes at Soapy Smith's, and the Ogden Theatre hosts the Ernie Ball battle of the bands. On Tuesday, July 8, the Quakers sow their wild oats at Cricket on the Hill, and Susan B. Anthony votes for Moot and the Sleeping Brotherhood House Band at the Mercury Cafe. And on Wednesday, July 9, Ounce for Ounce weighs in at the Cricket. Heavy.
--Michael Roberts
Backbeat's e-mail address is: Michael_Roberts@westword.com. While you're online, visit Michael Roberts's Jukebox 2.0 at www.westword.com
