Published on Sep 23, 2001
It’s easy to sit back today and second-guess Ozzy Osbourne for
his 1982 release
Speak Of The Devil. Here was a man who had finally put the
demons (no pun intended) of Black Sabbath behind him, as well as
everyone who doubted he could be a success as a solo performer. He
had two solid albums under his belt, and his reputation, good and
bad, was growing. So what the hell was he thinking recording a
double-live disc containing nothing but Black Sabbath tunes?
Yes, it would be easy to condemn Osbourne for this choice. But
one has to remember that not terribly long before this disc was
recorded in September of 1982, Osbourne’s world collapsed in upon
itself with the tragic death of guitarist Randy Rhoads in March of
that year. (Plans for a live set with Rhoads were put on hold, and
would not come to fruition until many years later with
Tribute.) While Osbourne did return to the road with a
re-tooled band, I’m guessing that Osbourne’s heart wasn’t quite
into the solo material just yet. (I don’t claim this is the reason
for the all-Sabbath album, but it does seem to be the logical
explanation.)
In a sense, it would also be easy to condemn guitarist Brad
Gillis (who would later return to Night Ranger) for not sounding
like Tony Iommi in his soloing, or to write off bassist Rudy Sarzo
(who’d later return to Quiet Riot) and drummer Tommy Aldridge as a
semi-clone of Black Sabbath. But maybe – just maybe – Osbourne
needed to do an album like this in order to fully exorcise his
Black Sabbath past, and allow him to reclaim the glory of the
songs, rather than be weighed down by them.
All of this makes
Speak Of The Devil sound like a noble project. Sadly, it’s
not the greatest live album in the world – though it can hardly be
called a failure, either.
Osbourne and crew plow through 13 of Black Sabbath’s best-known
songs from 1970 to 1978, doing a respectable job of keeping
somewhat close to the originals. Yes, I admit I sometimes wish that
Gillis had kept the guitar acrobatics to a minimum – but it’s
probably for the best that he didn’t try to play Iommi’s solos
note-for-note. Osbourne was trying to put his own solo signature on
these tracks, and it’s only fair that Gillis be allowed the same
courtesy. (I will, however, say that I wish Aldridge had kept to
the same drum patterns as Bill Ward’s, especially early on with
songs like “Snowblind”.)
The one thing that damns
Speak Of The Devil is that it often sounds like Osbourne and
crew are giving a rote performance, going through the motions as if
they had been doing these same songs non-stop for a decade or more.
(In a sense, though, one could forgive Osbourne for sounding a
little bored at times – after all, he did perform these non-stop
for almost a decade.) Only “The Wizard,” a song Osbourne admits
from the stage he hasn’t played live since 1972, has an air of
freshness about it, almost as if the band and audience were
rediscovering it together. It also sounds like some of the vocals
were double-tracked – I don’t mind if they’re doctored a little
bit, but the fixes should be seamless, not this noticeable. (I
understand the re-mastered CD, which is now out-of-print, features
even more vocal doctoring.)
I hesitate to say that
Speak Of The Devil is not required owning, for fans of
Osbourne (and even Black Sabbath) will find enough on this disc to
rejoice over. But while it seems to make sense to have done this
disc nearly 20 years after the fact, it still occasionally seems
like an odd decision – and it’s not always a comfortable sounding
one.