It’s pretty amazing when you think about it. Three years into their recording career, British heavy metal pioneers Black Sabbath released their fourth album. Which at the same time is their fourth consecutive iconic album. In those early years, Black Sabbath seemingly could do no wrong. Despite spending the entire time alternating between the studio and the road, the Birmingham foursome managed to hammer out classic album after classic album.
Although, it has to be said, with the wisdom of hindsight, one can spot the first signs of weariness that would later result in rather confused albums such as Sabotage (1975) and Technical Ecstasy (1976; covered in an earlier post of the same series). But these in no way weaken this album.
The album kicks off with Wheels Of Confusion, probably Sabbath’s most ambitious track up until then. The eight minute long track is an adventurous ride of evolving, shifting parts and moods, culminating in the entirely instrumental last three minutes, where the band introduce an atmospheric synth melody over which guitar wizard Tony Iommi weaves his soloing magic. Sure, The Warning from the debut album was longer, but it was a cover – one of the few covers Sabbath ever recorded. This is Sabbath flexing their songwriting muscles harder than they ever did before.
Other less typical Sabbath moments include the ballad Changes, which features a grating, annoying piano riff in the verse, which essentially ruins the track. The chorus is perfectly fine, with nice synths strings and all, but the verse is just unbearable. But there is a good song in there, as soul singer Charles Bradley would prove decades later with his definitive version of the song.
And then there’s the wankery of FX, a non-musical thing that’s pure padding. I think I read somewhere that it was mostly included on the album to meet track amount and running time criteria for a full album. I don’t know if that’s true, but it could well be. There’s no other valid reason for this track to exist.
Apart from these, Vol 4 is Sabbath doing their brand of early heavy metal as only they could do. Granted, a lot of the gloomy and doomy darkness of their first albums had waned by this time: some songs even have a marginally positive vibe to them. Take for example Tomorrow’s Dream: a song about leaving, yes, but there’s a hopeful undertone there; the rambler’s anticipation of what’s waiting in the next town, over the next hill. Or St. Vitus Dance; the main riff is positively poppy in its cheer.
Musically, there’s not much doom and gloom in Supernaut or Snowblind, either. But the lyrics… well, this is where the impending downfall of Sabbath starts to seep through the cracks. Supernaut’s take on drugs keeps an escapistic, trippy and fun vibe to it, but the frozen, wintry landscape of Snowblind speaks of growing addiction and disillusionment. It is, of course, a known fact that the Sabbath machine was running on an ever increasing supply of chemical stimulation, and this song is a chilling – literally chilling – testimony of it.
And, for sure, there is some of that trademark doomy heaviness here, too. The muffled guitar tone of Cornucopia and the lurching tempo of the intro is about as heavy as Sabbath could get. Under The Sun almost sounds slowed down. Decent enough as these two tracks are, they don’t have any place in lists of Sabbath’s best tracks, though.
Pictured in the top photo is the 1996 Castle Communications CD remaster of the album; a thorouhgly good sounding thing with nice liner notes. These were the editions readily available when I was a kid, and all of my old Black Sabbath CD’s are of this series. I remember getting this as a christmas present from my mother in 1996, I think. The better part of that holiday season was obviously spent listening to this, and especially aforementioned Wheels Of Confusion kept me captivated. It remains my favourite on the album to this day. Henry Rollins once described it as a song about alienation; of disillusionment and disappointment. And true enough, the lyrics are devoid of much light or hope… but that instrumental bit at the end seems to shine a light, a pale glimmer of hope.
The vinyl is a generic re-release from the 2010’s. A nice gatefold, and the heavy vinyl sounds good, but ultimately there’s nothing special about this release. However, I’ve never been a stickler for collecting original editions, so this is more than enough for me. Like most all Black Sabbath albums, Vol 4 is one I want to have in both formats.
When ranking Sabbath’s early albums, I suppose Vol 4 lands fifth after its follower Sabbath Bloody Sabbath and all preceeding albums (all of which we will return to later). “The fifth best Black Sabbath album” might not sound very impressive, but it truly is, considering just how strong albums the brummies released between 1970 and 1973. It’s just the least awesome of five very awesome albums.
In From The Vaults we take a dive into the record collection at Only Death Is Real HQ and write about about items of iconic stature or personal significance; rarities and oddities from the archives; obscure gems that deserve more attention; classics of yore deserving of a moment in the limelight; and so on.
Only Death Is Real 