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BLACK SABBATICAL, PART ONE

I really need to get out more.

But then, that was evident from my last column! Hanging around in the country with only my long-suffering wife, a silly cat, and a few thousand geese for company was bound to lead to trouble. Ah yes, the geese: a number of hunters took my diatribe quite personally, as if I had posted their mug shots instead wearing my psyche on my sleeve, as it were. They missed the point that all I wanted was a little peace and quiet and the chance to see my beautiful feathered friends a while longer in their natural state.

Silly boys. . .

About six weeks ago in Des Moines, sitting in my in-laws' living room checking my e-mail on a 20-below-zero night, I came across a totally unexpected note from a fan I didn't know I had, a fellow name of Mick Anger who said he was sending thanks to a number of people whose Internet work he admired. I thought this was a fine thing and told him so, but when I went to his Web site I was floored! It seems that Mick has been part of the rock and roll business since 1969, doing just about everything but mainly working as a video director/producer. I urge you to take a look at his resume and you'll see what I mean: he's toured with Rod Stewart, Prince, Elton John, Sting, Genesis, and many more, done videos and live broadcasts, special projects for MTV. . .you get the picture. A real pro, in other words, and when I saw that his own web site ("Products for the Modern World") was built with GoLive CyberStudio on a Macintosh 2300 Duo, I was really impressed.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been. I mean, we already know that most of the really hip artists, musicians, and entertainment industry types are into Macs. But my new-found friend was in the music biz! Rock and roll!! Great God a-mighty, doin' it!!! And as his e-mail signature proclaimed, he still had "most" of his brain! I immediately e-mailed him right back to ask him how he had managed this, as I was always really surprised to stumble across an occasional piece of mine. . .

This must have struck a sympathetic note with him, because he replied with news and an invitation. The news was that he was about hit the road with the Black Sabbath Reunion Tour. Wow! Ozzy Osbourne and a cast of thousands! Heavy-metal madness and mayhem! Amplifiers cranked up to 11! Rabid, screaming fans! Maybe even naked ladies! Really, really loud guitars! Some people have all the luck. . .but wait! There was more: the tour would hit the East Coast sometime in January, and if I wanted to, I could join the party!

"Just let me know, and I'll arrange it."

Hoo-hah!!! If I wanted to, indeed. Is the sky blue? Is my hearing damaged? Is that a Gibson ES-335 12-string and a classic Fender Twin Reverb amp in the downstairs hallway?

Was there a Mac angle, I wondered? Something I could write about? Mick responded with a rehearsal anecdote about his having to jump in to bump up the font size on Ozzy's teleprompter. Imagine his relief to see that the device was run from a PowerBook G3! He was able to figure out the software, enlarge the text, and have the rehearsal back in gear in just a few minutes, something that might have taken a while longer on the rented PC he expected to find. Why, uh, yes, that would do nicely!

The plan we hatched was for me to drive up to Philadelphia for the January 28th gig. I would meet Mick at the truck ramp behind the Spectrum at 2:00 o'clock that afternoon, and he would show me the setup before the show. I had no idea what to expect, but I was pretty sure I had been to a Grateful Dead show at the same venue a few years earlier and could find the place easily enough.

As the date approached, I had a few typical second thoughts: what, I have to take I-95 again? When my wife picked me up at the Philadelphia airport after my Arizona trip last September, I had vowed never again to set foot or tires anywhere near the place. Interstate 95 in this part of the world, for those of your fortunate enough to live nowhere near, is an ugly, howling, crowded, lawless Highway to Hell, or in this case Philadelphia. What set me off in September was being stuck in traffic, and I mean stuck: inch, creep, stop, inch. Sitting and and staring at the roadside hovels of lovely Chester, PA. Watching poor maddened city people careening by on the shoulder in a spray of gravel and trash, hoping desperately for a few car lengths' worth of advantage -- what's really weird is that in Delaware, Delaware of all places, you have to pay for the privilege of driving on this road. Two whole dollars. At least by the time you get your wallet back in your pants, you're already in Pennsylvania.

That was one worry. The other was that I'd be found out and chased by a mob of tanked-up teenage runaways: "Run! Run, you stinking boomer bastard!"

"Wait, you don't understand! I saw the Sex Pistols! I saw Dylan with the Band!"

"KILL HIM, GIRLZ!!!"

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. The day I took off and landed on I-95, the cops were all busy stopping dark-skinned motorists and planting drugs in their cars. I was safe! The heavy traffic roared and weaved at 75 to 85 miles per hour, all the way through downtown Wilmington, past Chester PA, and on to Philadelphia. I reached Exit 14 in record time with only one panic stop and three near misses. Only one driver had passed me on the left shoulder, there were no new chips in the windshield, and I was feeling pretty smug. As I turned into the parking lot at the Spectrum, the guard waved me to a stop, leaned down and said:

"The concert's been cancelled!"

Oh no! The music business strikes again! How many times, two, three, four, had this happened to me in my lifetime? "But I'm a journalist! I'm supposed to meet someone with the tour! Can I at least go back and see if he's there?"

And he waved me on through.

I drove all the way around and behind the building, parked, and walked toward the center of activity. The "truck ramp" turned out to be just that, a huge sloping hole with semis crawling in and out. A fleet of silver-colored, Greyhound-sized, custom coaches sat nearby. All of a sudden, there was Mick, wearing the Godzilla T-shirt he'd mentioned so I would recognize him. We shook hands and he gave me the word: "The good news is, I'm here to meet you. The bad news is, the show's been cancelled, and there wasn't any way to reach you! Would you like to go inside anyway and see the pandemonium?"

We walked down the ramp and onto the half-empty arena floor. What seemed like hundreds of roadies were rushing great wheeled aluminum crates and bins into waiting semi trailers as fast as they could. Trucks were pulling in and out. Mick pointed out where the stage had been and told me that it only took two hours to tear everything down and get back on the road -- impressive! He introduced me to "the Mac guys" (part of the lighting crew), and during a brief respite I had a great time listening to a couple likeable fellows complain about how there wouldn't be any girls that night. One claimed to have had nine in two days and thought he ought to try some Viagra, bless his 25-year-old heart. We regaled him with horror stories of painful, permanently-enlarged organs, and from there the discussion went into thoroughly enjoyable areas even less fit for inclusion in this column. (I loved it!)

There's more to this tale, of course.

"Would you like to see the bus?" Mick asked. Ohhh, yes -- and so we did. I got to see the inside of one of those custom silver coaches. I met some more members of the video and lighting crews ( great guys). I had a seat and a Heiniken. We talked some more. I listened to the jokes, felt just a bit of what it would be like to live on that bus for weeks at a time, and started to feel awfully damned comfortable. Yeah, man. I know it's only rock and roll, but I'm pretty sure I'd like it.

The only thing is, I missed the show, dammit! I missed the opening act (Pantera). I missed the pyrotechnics. I missed the glorious, visceral impact of rock and roll thunder. I missed the naked dancing girls! (As a funny lady I know remarked, "What happened? Did Ozzy bite too many bats and get a sore throat?")

Not to worry, though. That cancelled show was sold out, and the Black Sabbath Reunion Tour will return in a few weeks to collect. This is America, after all, where rabid fans, agents, and Internet writers always get a second chance.

Ozzy will be back, and so will I!

John H. Farr also edits the Apple Computer News for Applelinks.com and welcomes your comments. His own website, the ZOO ZONE, lives on and on and on. . . for access to all previous Farr Site columns, please visit the archives.

Cosmo.com: The Website for Touring Professionals! The lighting director of the current Sabbath tour has a great Web site with all kinds of information: who's touring now, travel info, places to go, favorite restaurants, and all kinds of good things. Are you on tour? Do you wish you were? Want to know the best spot to hang out while your band's in Des Moines? Check out Cosmo.com!

The Black Sabbath logo and concert photo came from the official Epic Records (Sony Music Enterprises) Web site (original artist and photographer unknown) and are linked thereto. The closeup of Ozzy comes from a recent Los Angeles show and appears in the current Feb.18, 1999 Rolling Stone (Issue 806). It was taken by Jeffrey Mayer (Star File, Inc.)

May 16, 2012