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Since Sabbath just had their final show, it has caused me to reflect on when I was first introduced to them when I was young, and the impact it had on me. I remember being at my dad’s duplex, I can’t recall what I was doing at the time, but I was pretty young. It was a summer evening, and my dad was grilling some ribs while some robins eased their worries in the birdbath near the ash trees. My dad usually had his CDs playing in the background while he got drunk slowly on cheap beer and grilled into twilight. We would also listen to the radio at times, and it was usually some classic or hard rock station.
I don’t remember the songs playing before it, but at some point, “Iron Man” played. I have no idea what I was doing prior to hearing it, but I stopped whatever it was, as I was completely entranced by that song. That initial foreboding, steady drum, leading into that first deeply bent note, sent chills all over my body. I ran around the house for a week after hearing those leading notes that Tony Iommi bends so low, trying to mimic that sound with my voice. I was obsessed with it and had never heard anything like it. To this day, I haven’t heard much that has had such a power over me like those first few notes.
I went out a few days later to find a Black Sabbath CD. I had asked my dad who played that song, and he had told me, but he didn’t know which CD it was on, so I didn’t know which one to look for. I ended up combing through the CDs at the store, and getting the one that had the most frightening cover art, since it made sense to me that such a terrifying song would be on that record. It ended up being their debut. It wasn’t until much later that I was able to locate and listen to Paranoid.
When I got home, I hurried up the off-yellow carpet on the stairs to my room and closed the door. This was already becoming a routine in my life. Finding new music, hurrying to my room full of anticipation, and closing my door for privacy to listen without any distractions, like a sacred ritual. If I thought “Iron Man” was scary, I was not prepared for what the self-titled first track would make me feel. The ominous sound of rain, and a distant bell as though it were ringing over a sad cemetery. The deep rumbling thunder, and then those first immense, sinister notes. It felt like I was listening to something that I shouldn’t have been. As if this were something occult or evil and that I was going to awaken some ancient, malevolent creature if I kept going, but I was too immersed to stop. When the song gets to that first shriek of “oh noooo” from Ozzy Osbourne, I almost had to hide under my pillow. I couldn’t believe that there was music out there that was even more frightening yet exhilarating than AC/DC, which I had only recently discovered.
Over the years since those days, I’ve continually returned to Sabbath’s many records, with differing opinions and perspectives as I have grown older. They have since become and remained one of my favorite bands, and they expanded my perception of music. Sabbath shaped my musical taste in many ways, and they will always hold an immensely important place in my heart, as I know they do for so many others. I’m glad they were able to do a sendoff on their own terms. It is incredible to think back on all that they have influenced, and while I’m sad that I never did get to see them perform live, I’m very grateful to have their music in my life.
This year being more than half over, I decided it was time to climb a mountain. What did I listen to?
I drove up Highway 34 and made a right at the split (Larimer County Rd. #43) to head to Glen Haven, Colorado. It was a misty, cool morning; the air was heavy from a rain the night before. It was an absolutely stunning drive up the Big Thompson Canyon. Sometimes you can see a bighorn sheep herd on the side of the cliffs, but not on this day. Being the middle of summer, they were probably up in higher elevations, where it was cooler. They are amazing to see; it seems that they carry an energy about them.
What was on the radio?
By happenstance, I was only able to get a few stations driving up the canyon.
#1, 88.9 KRFC.
Fort Collins community/public radio station is pretty solid, but it can be a tad hit or miss depending on the DJ. Fridays, they typically have a good DJ lineup with Ted and “My Bird” from 5-7 PM and “The Apocalypse Radio Show” with Colonel Kurtz from 7-9 PM. These are pretty solid shows with great selections (i.e., “San Andres” by Portastatic and “Listen” by Tears for Fears). Sometimes these guys get a bit obsessed with the obscure tracks and the deep cuts, but hey if things get too weird that’s the beauty of the radio; you can always change the station.
“Highway Patrol” by Johnny Cash. What a great deep cut this was! I wasn’t familiar with this track but what a cool song (written by Bruce Springsteen). Cash has a great voice, and it was really at home with this song. It tells a story, which seems like a bit of a dying art. Anyhow, I really like the way Cash does it; it feels authentic and what a great message. This version of the song kind of reminds me of the great Harry Chapin in the 1960s and 70s. (Check out the album Short Stories and most importantly the track “Mr. Tanner.”)
#2, 107.9 KBPI.
KBPI is billed as Denver’s hard rock station. It has been a mainstay for 40 or 50 years (used to be 105.9 back in the day). I guess this is a pretty cool station as far as hard rock goes. I would probably like to hear more Slayer and Metallica than Ozzy Osborne and The Offspring, but is there any station with a Slayer record on the ready?
“Photograph” by Def Leppard. This is a very popular song in Colorado, where people continue to love Def Leppard as much as they did in the early days of MTV. The song had a great video, and the band had a cool look. I think this is a sweet track. I could relate—a photograph of a beautiful baby was invaluable back in the day. The song was about a photograph of some girl from a magazine of sorts, and the photo wasn’t cutting it for this guy—creepy, but a fun jam, nonetheless. Pretty good band, I guess. A year after Pyromania was released, the drummer Rick Allen lost an arm in a car accident.
#3, 102.5 KTRR.
Northern Colorado’s classic rock retro station. This is a station I find myself on quite frequently. It’s an easy listen and always plays familiar songs, helpful for keeping a mellow mind while driving around. This station is dialed in for me every Sunday, as they play a classic episode of Casey Kasem’s “American Top 40.” It is fantastic with long-distance dedications and chart tracking of these old songs. It’s a nice stroll down memory lane as far as I am concerned.
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” by Deep Blue Something. I know these guys. The songwriter played in a band, Little Black Dress, with a friend of mine. The lead guitar was a restaurant manager my wife worked for when we first got together! Deep Blue Something formed in Denton, Texas, just outside of Dallas. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” was their only hit, but what a hit it was. It has the melodramatic feel that fits just perfectly on a retro playlist rotation. I’m not sure I really like this song, and I know the guys in the band were definitely sick of it. I did some digging and learned that the Houston Press named “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” the second worst song to come out of Texas after Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby.” But what does that matter when these songs still get quite a bit of airplay?
Finally, I arrived at the trailhead to begin my mission of climbing a mountain. I worried whether I had enough water. The weather in the mountains can be volatile and unpredictable. Being unprepared can be a problem. The trek up Mt. Crosier is about three and a half miles. It sounded manageable on paper, but let’s not forget it’s all uphill with some pretty intense elevation gain. It was really stunning and peaceful, great views of snow still perched on mountains in the distance. Wildflowers were strewn about filled with the buzzing of insects. I wished I could identify some of them, but I’m only able to recognize “Bell’s Twinpod”—a small, clumping yellow flower only found in Boulder and Larimer counties in Colorado. Of course, I just read about this, so it was interesting to find it in the wild. I was moving at a pretty good pace and wasn’t really seeing any animals except for some random birds. The sounds in this area provided for some unique listening, as it resonated as I moved along, huffing and puffing a bit.
What song is in my head?
“Time Out of Mind” by Steely Dan. Full disclosure, I am a pretty massive Steely Dan fan. I have followed two Steely Dan cover bands around. When I lived in Denver, there was Kid Charlemange, and, in Dallas, there was a band called Naked Lunch. Anyhow, this was the perfect track to be running through my head as I walked up this mountain. Yes, this was a moment when time doesn’t seem to exist. It was just me in the world, putting one foot in front of the other trying to get to the summit—time out of mind. The making of this song had quite the crew in the studio: Mark Knopfler on guitar, the Jazz fusion virtuoso’s “the Brecker Brothers” on the horns, and Michael McDonald with Valerie Simpson (of Ashford & Simpson fame) on backup vocals. It’s commonly thought this song is about heroin, as Walter Becker had a pretty good habit back in the day. I like to think that the song is reaching a place in your mind where you can just be, not thinking about anything but just being present.
Upon reaching the summit, I felt my heart pounding, thinking I should probably relax as this was not a good place to have a heart attack. Calming, I took it all in. A cleansing came over me, as I chewed on this incredible view. Climbing a mountain helps make sense of life and the world, because from this perspective, things feel pretty incredible.
I headed down and wondered about the lack of animals. Except for some birds and the occasional chipmunk, this ecosystem seemed a bit lacking. Where were the deer, the elk, and the midline consumers? I felt a bit concerned this ecosystem was a bit out of balance; it was especially apparent in the density of the forest, with pine trees right next to each other and deadfall everywhere. Perhaps, the animals knew something we should know. If there was a fire, this forest would be an inferno. The animals probably figured out they should be in a safer area.
As I approached the trailhead, getting close to where I started. I felt a sense of relief and accomplishment. All a sudden I was startled, there was a fox staring right at me! I didn’t see him (assuming) at all, probably just the way he planned it. He didn’t seem scared at all. I thought we might be having a bit of a conversation.
Fox: Nice job on the hike, looks like your life is rolling along alright.
Me: Thanks
Fox: I followed you the whole way and if you died up there, I would have eaten you.
Me: Maybe next time.
What did I play as I drove down the canyon?
“All Day Music” by War. People might ask, “What’s so great about War?” The Latino community would point to songs such as “Low Rider” and to some extent the “Cisco Kid,” as a couple of cultural defining tracks. I would say the best thing about War was Lee Oskar. This guy emigrated from Europe with nothing but a harmonica in his pocket. Adding harmonica to their R&B sound was unprecedented. And it was not just any harmonica, as Lee Oskar was arguably the best harmonica player there ever was. (Check out the songs “The World Is a Ghetto” and “City, Country, City.”) He later took a break from playing and formed a harmonica manufacturing company, which produced some of the finest harmonicas (Oskar’s) ever made. Oskar’s harmonica added a fantastic element to the sound and the music of War. They also had the great vocalist Eric Burdon, formerly of The Animals. Together, they had some awesome songs.
What I should have played as I drove down the canyon?
The class war of the rich against working people continues to intensify, as millions are going to be thrown off their health care. Fascist fucks in Congress chant “U.S.A” following the passage of the heinous bill. The U.S. Air Force in Utah conducts flyovers to remind us that burning jet fuel is patriotic. Fuckhead Trump surrounds himself with flags, as he signs the bill, thinking he controls everyone and everything.
Phantasmorgasm, a punk rock band with some funk, starts their song “Burn the Flag,” with the line, “Oh can you see,” before asking:
Do you see the homeless people die?
Do you hear the hungry child’s cries?
Do you think of anyone, but yourself?
With simple lines, they illuminate stark inequalities and shame in a nation where a small percentage of the population controls vast amounts of wealth. With the line, “the flag is a symbol with no meaning,” they counter those in power who shroud themselves in the flag, using it to justify their actions to plunder the public. With weariness, leading to the end of the song, they sing:
I’m so sick of seeing pain,
everywhere I go,
the people without homes….
I’ll burn the flag,
I’ll burn your flag.
This sounds like a great idea on this day of continued shame. This evening, I am going to burn seven U.S. flags in a metal bowl, envisioning an empire on the brink of implosion. While the red, white, and blue turns into smoke, I will play Propagandhi’s “Stick the Fucking Flag Up Your Goddamn Ass, You Sonofabitch.” My wife and I will be smiling as we sing along:
My father told me, “Son it’s futile to resist. You can topple the ideology but not the armies they enlist.” I questioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting “WAR!” “Well, that’s the sound of freedom, son,” he said (free to say no more). But wait a minute “dad,” did you actually say freedom? Well, if you’re dumb enough to vote, you’re fucking dumb enough to believe them. Because if this country is so goddamned free, then I can burn your fucking flag wherever I damn well please. I carried their anthem convinced it was mine. Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line. But then I stood back and wondered what the fuck they had done to me. Made accomplice to all that I promised I would never be. You carry their anthem, convinced that it’s yours. Invitation to honour. Invitation to war. Bette Midler now assumes sainthood. Romanticize murder for morale. Tie a yellow ribbon ’round the old oak tree my friend and “Gee, Wally. That’s swell!” Fuck the troops.
Polish tinsel Christian values with lots of hate and Jimmy semen. The finger that points is up your dress.
—Sons of Ishmael
The televangelist Jimmy Swaggart is finally dead at the age of 90, no longer able to spread his rotten seed. In the late 1970s and through most of the 80s, he smiled on the TV, sang gospel songs, praised God, taught hate, and swindled followers of money to build an empire through his ministries, broadcast network, and his bible college. He financially supported the South African-backed Mozambican National Resistance, an anti-communist militia group that committed crimes against humanity. In 1988, he pleaded for forgiveness in his “I Have Sinned” speech, when the first of his prostitution scandals was exposed. Once defrocked, he was undeterred and became a non-denominational minister, continuing his bigotry.
In 1989, Sons of Ishmael, a Canadian punk rock band, released the seven-inch Sing Generic Crap. Today, to mark the occasion of Jimmy’s demise, I am listening to their short song, “Jimmy Swaggart Stuck His Pee-Pee in My Poo-Poo.” The deeply scathing cynicism for the hypocrisy of televangelists erupts with:
It seemed like much more than a dream
When Jimmy Swaggart came to me
He said, “Send your kids to my school
Where they’ll learn to be just like me
I put my penis into whores
To cleanse them of their awful sins
I intimate children and old people
Extracting protection money to ward off Satan.
With a few lines they capture Jimmy:
Show me your sins and I’ll show you mine
Take me to a hotel room and I’ll tear off my garter belt;
Wholesome Christian blood rush to my penis
Little girls with blue lipstick are yeast to my penis.
It is no surprise that Jimmy loved Shitbag Trump. I hope Jimmy’s family plays this Sons of Ishmael song (3:22 in the video below) at his funeral.
