I don’t know what I can write about Black Sabbath‘s classic sophomore album, Paranoid, that hasn’t already been written. It’s a metal classic, a doom classic, a rock classic, and a British classic. I think the only thing I can write about regarding the album is how, until I finally got around to listening to it in its entirety, it’s also a psychedelic classic.
I mean, the opening track, “War Pigs” (originally titled “Walpurgis” – a song about witches but later altered to reflect the horrors of the Vietnam War), is a doom anthem, of course, but the opening riff and air raid sirens are an instant mind trip. Tommy Iommi‘s solo in the middle of it is the glint in the eye of doom metal’s father, but all of his work on the track has a trippy quality to it that’s hard to define.
The title track is the start of thrash metal, and, as the story goes, came about from the band goofing around in the studio. Little did they know it would become their first mega-single. Ozzy Osbourne‘s slightly fuzzed vocals balance well with the cranked fuzz of Iommi’s guitar and Terry Butler‘s bass and Bill Ward‘s relentless, yet precise drumming.
“Planet Caravan” then does an abrupt left turn into full-blown psychedelia. Osbourne’s vocals are barely perceptible, and the whole thing sounds like it was somehow sung and played through a lava lamp. Everything about it is warped and weird. I thought, “Why isn’t this song considered one of the classics of the psych genre?” when I first heard it. Mind you, I’m sure it is, but it seems like it’s a sadly overlooked Sabbath gem.
Probably because the next track is “Iron Man,” which has been featured in everything from Marvel movies to The Simpsons by now. Everyone remembers the riffs, but how many remember the song is about an astronaut who sees the Earth’s future, returns to warn us about it, is ridiculed by humanity for doing it, and then decides to trash us for mocking him?
Iommi makes full use of his effects pedals on “Hand of Doom,” which again has heavy riffs but part of their weight comes from the psychedelic touches the band puts on it. It’s creepy, sure, but also mind-altering – especially when they get to the bridge and it almost turns into a prog-rock track. The slick “Rat Salad” continues the brain-melting effects by starting off with adder-like slithering bass from Butler that explodes into a panther pouncing on you when the whole band kicks into gear. The song does this over and over, leaving you unsettled and somehow exhilarated. The closer, “Fairies Wear Boots,” is a dig at Nazi skinheads who were coming to their shows, is chock-full of great hooks, and even has a groovy intro (known as “Jack the Stripper”) with a somewhat bonkers Ward drum solo.
I know many fog hats were worn while listening to Paranoid and many “left-handed cigarettes” were rolled on its cover. I know I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s an album that easily moves back and forth between doom and psychedelia, but yet I still am. That’s a testament to the album’s craftsmanship.
Keep your mind open.
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