Review Summary: A drunk doom disasterpiece
If Volume 4 was Black Sabbath’s cocaine album and Master Of Reality was the face that launched a million stoner bands, then Born Again is for when you are completely and utterly ***faced. It’s the sort of doom metal that sounds like the headspace where you’re gonna puke any second but still having fun with it; the infamous underwater production provides a disorienting atmosphere as the songs drunkenly cycle through property damage, belligerence, incoherent word vomit, and sloppy catcalling that end in him passed out before getting to do the deed. Considering how the lineup’s conception was allegedly rooted in Ian Gillan agreeing to join the band while blacked out at the pub, it feels appropriate.
And even with original drummer Bill Ward rounding out the roster, it becomes immediately clear that the musicians had no idea what the *** to make of each other. Black Sabbath and Deep Purple may have been peers back in heavy metal’s earliest days but the ways they went about doing so differed in terms of playing and aesthetics. Gillan’s attempts to channel the occultism one would expect led to gobbledygook about ‘priests of shame’ and eating raw liver while Sabbath seemingly trying to accommodate him led to songs that play like “Highway Star” and “Child In Time” getting the Pet Sematary treatment. The lack of chemistry in Purple Sabbath is so blatant that in a bizarre twist, it becomes a perverse sort of anti-chemistry that’s all the more endearing.
Subsequently, these misshapen monstrosities end up being pretty damn fun to listen to. The opening “Trashed” and “Digital Bitch” really shouldn’t work due to the mismatches of dark clunky riffs and diatribes about drunk driving and trophy wives, but the cheeky wordplay, exuberant howls, and energetic playing are enough to sell them. Their commitment to maintaining such a murky aura is also commendable in its own way; “Stonehenge” and “The Dark” are simple interludes that round things out with keyboardist Geoff Nicholls showing off some warped beep-boops while the title track is an opaque ballad whose contemplative swirling textures are supplemented with climactic wails and crooning a bunch of beautiful nonsense.
It’s even more intriguing how a couple songs inadvertently prove Sabbath’s continued relevance in the metal world whether reciprocated or not. Venom and Mercyful Fate may have taken the genre in more extreme directions but while they postured as dedicated satanists summoning unholy armies, “Disturbing The Priest” constantly swings its dramatic chords and pulsating bass verses around like a broken beer bottle held by a boozehound cackling about the nature of good and evil or some ***. It’s a gamble on if he’s really all that dangerous or if he’d just stagger after trying to take a step, but would you really want to take that chance?
“Zero The Hero” comes out the most notable in this regard, a little ironic considering the mixed messages in the lyrics encouraging an underdog by way of berating them. That busy chug is no doubt influential, Guns ‘N Roses and Danzig later lifting it for a couple of their own songs and covered by Cannibal Corpse, and manages to stay interesting over the course of eight minutes thanks to synth splashes, a couple righteous solos, and a trance-inducing beat. The vocals also match the energy with borderline spoken word verses and infectiously sputtered choruses. Lately I’ve wondered if this song could be an alternate template for bands seeking a new way to combine rap and heavy metal. Doom rap?
I’m not drunk enough for this…
Alas, the album’s momentum falters a bit toward the end as the last two songs don’t quite have the same head turning veneer. “Hot Line” might actually be the most ‘normal’ song here, its straightforward structure means fewer opportunities to go off the rails but also coming the closest to the Purple side with bright guitars trying to burst from the muck, a breezy rhythm, and downright jovial shrieks. “Keep It Warm” opts for a similar vibe but never feels properly aligned as the mid-tempo riff isn’t hazy enough to obscure the clumsiness while the would-be romantic lyrics end up pitchy and rushed.
Born Again is one of the most intriguing love it or hate it albums out there. It’s the sort of release where its talents and flaws are generally recognized by listeners across the board, but whether those talents can make the drive home after six beers or if the flaws are a serious dealbreaker is entirely dependent on the listener’s tastes. Hell, if you forget about the score for a second, whether this review is an endorsement or an admonishment might come down to the tone of voice you read it in. On one hand, it’s a sloppy mess and they didn’t know what the *** they were doing. But on the other hand, it’s a sloppy mess and they didn’t know what the *** they were doing!
Warts and all, Born Again is an engaging effort that’s better than it has any right to be. Its flaws are impossible to ignore but so is its uniqueness, the dark sleaze doom somehow aligned with the classic Sabbath spirit but standing out for its own perverse personality. It has the presentation of a so bad it’s good disaster yet the songs and performances are charismatic enough to be convincing. It’s the sort of album that probably couldn’t be made today, boasting the pure chaos and spontaneity that defies sensible production and understandings of genres. It’s an ugly misshapen abortion but damn it all, this is OUR ugly misshapen abortion.
