Black Sabbath has announced farewell tours before, so some scepticism is understandable whenever the words "The End" appear on a concert poster. Yet this time things feel different. The members are approaching seventy, Tony Iommi continues to battle serious health issues and the simple reality of time is becoming impossible to ignore. Whether this really is the end remains to be seen, but it certainly feels more plausible than it did on previous occasions.
Opening the evening, Rival Sons delivers a strong set that unfortunately struggles to compete with the distractions of an arena crowd still focused on food, drinks and socialising. It is a familiar fate for support acts in venues of this size and a somewhat unfair one, particularly for a band whose blend of classic rock swagger and modern muscle deserves closer attention.
Inside the arena, the audience reflects the extraordinary reach of Black Sabbath's music. Teenagers stand alongside fans old enough to remember the band's first incarnation. Different generations, different backgrounds, all gathered for the same reason: to pay tribute to the group that effectively invented heavy metal.
A lengthy, cheesy video involving demons, destruction and assorted apocalyptic imagery attempts to set the mood but mostly serves to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, the moment the curtain drops all such concerns evaporate. The opening chords of "Black Sabbath" ring out across the arena and instantly remind everyone why they are here.
Because this is not simply another veteran rock act making the rounds of the nostalgia circuit. This is Black Sabbath. The band that dragged rock music away from flower power and into darker territory. The band that transformed anxiety, war, madness, addiction and the supernatural into a new musical language. More importantly, they did not merely sing about darkness: they found a way to make it sound dark. Half a century later, countless bands still operate in the shadow of those discoveries.
The setlist is conservative but almost impossible to argue with. "Black Sabbath," "War Pigs," "N.I.B.," "Fairies Wear Boots," "Under the Sun," "Iron Man" and, naturally, "Paranoid" form the backbone of a performance built around the first four albums, records that remain the foundation upon which an entire genre was constructed. There are deeper cuts fans would undoubtedly love to hear, and some classics have understandably disappeared from the repertoire due to Ozzy Osbourne's current vocal limitations. Even so, the material remains untouchable.
Tommy Clufetos continues to occupy the unenviable position of replacing Bill Ward. His style is considerably more direct and forceful, lacking some of the jazz-inflected looseness that made Ward such a distinctive drummer. Yet he approaches the material with conviction and provides exactly the kind of powerhouse performance required in a venue of this size.
Ozzy's singing is understandably inconsistent. There are moments when he struggles and others when he drifts slightly off pitch. None of this comes as a surprise. More importantly, his charisma remains intact. Few frontmen can command an arena so effortlessly, and fewer still inspire this level of affection from an audience.
Geezer Butler once again demonstrates why he remains one of heavy metal's most influential bass players. While generations of musicians have copied Tony Iommi's riffs, far fewer have understood the importance of Butler's melodic, restless bass lines, constantly pushing and pulling against the guitar rather than simply reinforcing it.
And then there is Iommi himself. The architect. The man responsible for some of the most iconic riffs in popular music. Yet his reputation as a riff writer often obscures another truth: he is also a magnificent lead guitarist. His solos remain lyrical, inventive and precise, delivered with a calm authority that makes everything look effortless.
Whether this truly proves to be Black Sabbath's final tour remains uncertain. What is certain is that they are leaving on a high. There was a time when Sabbath seemed destined to become little more than a footnote to their own invention, their records ignored and their concerts sparsely attended. They turned it all around. Tonight, the inventors of heavy metal stand once again where they belong: at the summit of the genre they created. If this is indeed the end, they can be proud of the legacy they leave behind.
