Download Festival 2005: Black Sabbath - 11th June 2005
Setlist: NIB / After Forever / War Pigs / Dirty Women / Fairies Wear Boots / Symptom of the Universe / Sweet Leaf / Electric Funeral / Iron Man / Into the Void / Black Sabbath / The Wizard / Sabbath Bloody Sabbath / Paranoid / Sleeping Village // Children of the Grave
Straight away, I am going to piss people off here.
Read through the setlist. Right. You done that?
OK. Here it comes: I thought Sabbath were lacking at Download.
Straight away, I am going to piss people off here.
Read through the setlist. Right. You done that?
OK. Here it comes: I thought Sabbath were lacking at Download.
Now, before the entire devil-worshipping community goes all Aleister Crowley on my ass, hear me out, will you? I have been to a goodly number of Sabs gigs over the years, and have seen them with Dio, Gillan, Tony Martin, and Ozzy on vocals. What’s more, I’ve enjoyed every single performance, in its own peculiar way (yes, even the Born Again tour!) Even weirder is the fact that I didn’t hate this show either. Yeah, you guessed it, there is a ‘but’ coming. But, Sabbath wasn’t the best band on the day.
This was supposed to be ‘Ozzfest’ day, yet there was no stage set; the Black ones didn’t even go to the trouble of putting up a backdrop. It was a cracking set, faultlessly played, no argument there, but I’ve seen it all before. Ozzy called us ‘crazy motherfuckers’, did some frog jumps, stalked the stage and threw a bucket of water over himself. He told us that he loved us all. Iommi, dressed in black, his unfeasibly ebony barnet as immovable as Jocky Wilson, stood to one side and laid down some heavy-duty riffage, whilst Terry and Bill kept time impeccably, but none of them troubled us with anything out of the ordinary. You see where I’m going?
The black beauty of Sabbath was always that their sound and the songs were only a part of the equation; you went to see them live because you never knew what was going to happen on that stage, that night. Anything could, and often did, happen; you participated in an event that was never going to be repeated in exactly the same way, ever again. After Download, I’ll lay money on you being able to go and see that same set performed perfectly, and lamentably, identically, on another night, somewhere in the world. It was all too scripted, too clinical, too faultless.
This was supposed to be ‘Ozzfest’ day, yet there was no stage set; the Black ones didn’t even go to the trouble of putting up a backdrop. It was a cracking set, faultlessly played, no argument there, but I’ve seen it all before. Ozzy called us ‘crazy motherfuckers’, did some frog jumps, stalked the stage and threw a bucket of water over himself. He told us that he loved us all. Iommi, dressed in black, his unfeasibly ebony barnet as immovable as Jocky Wilson, stood to one side and laid down some heavy-duty riffage, whilst Terry and Bill kept time impeccably, but none of them troubled us with anything out of the ordinary. You see where I’m going?
The black beauty of Sabbath was always that their sound and the songs were only a part of the equation; you went to see them live because you never knew what was going to happen on that stage, that night. Anything could, and often did, happen; you participated in an event that was never going to be repeated in exactly the same way, ever again. After Download, I’ll lay money on you being able to go and see that same set performed perfectly, and lamentably, identically, on another night, somewhere in the world. It was all too scripted, too clinical, too faultless.
The protectors of our morals always used to vilify Black Sabbath for being evil, devil-worshipping, satanic sons of unnamed goats, a corrupting and malignant influence on society’s youth. Somehow though, over the years, they have become the establishment and, whilst they may have sold their souls, they haven’t done it for rock and roll; they’ve done it for a big bag of cash, so that Ozzy can keep Sharon and his freak show family, in the style to which the TV audience has become accustomed.
In stark contrast, I’ve seen Velvet Revolver twice. The first time Weiland sucked big donkey balls. The second time, they lit up the sky with their brilliance - but, at least they’re alive and kicking. At Donington, on Ozzfest day, VR kicked Sabbath’s ass. No contest.
I had realised by this point, that I had got quite sunburned on the first day.
Back at the tent, I had a mouthful of falling down water and at the end of the second day, the God of Thunder fell into an alcohol-induced coma.
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
14th June 2005
In stark contrast, I’ve seen Velvet Revolver twice. The first time Weiland sucked big donkey balls. The second time, they lit up the sky with their brilliance - but, at least they’re alive and kicking. At Donington, on Ozzfest day, VR kicked Sabbath’s ass. No contest.
I had realised by this point, that I had got quite sunburned on the first day.
Back at the tent, I had a mouthful of falling down water and at the end of the second day, the God of Thunder fell into an alcohol-induced coma.
Mark L. Potts
The God of Thunder
14th June 2005