Live Review: Black Sabbath

En route to Rod Laver Arena we are flabbergasted when our Chilean Uber driver has never heard of Black Sabbath (or even The Osbournes). The millisecond Black Sabbath commence — with the sinister, brooding Black Sabbath — we are treated to the best sound we have ever experienced in this venue. We focus intently, letting our ears soak up these dense melodies live for the final time (this tour being billed as The End). Ozzy Osbourne's church of doom is in session and seeing him up there alongside bassist Geezer Butler and guitarist Tony Iommi, who play so viscerally, inspires awe. We're not worthy! Behind the kit, we score American session drummer Tommy Clufetos (in the absence of Bill Ward), whose skills make our jaws drop; heads shake in disbelief as we try to follow the speed and accuracy of his sticks.   

The standing GA crowd stretches way back beyond the sound desk. Impressively, we could count the amount of raised smartphones on one hand. Sure, this is an old-fart crowd, but more importantly all assembled choose to be entirely present and pay respect to this legendary band from Birmingham. There's a giant screen with visuals and it's great to see close-ups of Iommi and Butler's playing, but the band don't need bells or whistles — it's pure substance. Sirens herald in the extended beast that is War Pigs — "Generals gather in their maSSES…" We are completely destroyed by this song's sporadic riffs and drum beats, and can't imagine any other track topping this one tonight.         

Osbourne bobs up and down on the spot like Iggy Pop's cockie Biggy Pop (check out his pet's Instagram page). You can't understand a fucking thing Osbourne says between songs (okay, we did make out "War Pigs" at one point), but that doesn't matter — it's all about experiencing Black Sabbath's mighty songs and celebrating these matchless musicians and their marvellous catalogue. Osbourne zombie shuffles from one side of the stage to the other and cools himself off by pouring water over himself. (Does he really do this to mask incontinence? Please advise.

Clufetos' drum solo! He pummels as if he has multiple sticks in each hand while the rest of the band take five. During Rat Salad, we almost weep; the syncopated drumming and perfectly synched guitar work taking turns to impress. Iommi's Iron Man riff signals head-bang o'clock time and our faces screw up in appreciation. We can't get enough of those cymbal clashes and Iommi's guitar work is spellbinding. Clufetos' galloping drum rhythms are perfection. 

Encore track Paranoid comes close to the earlier brilliance of War Pigs and punters sing the repetitive, dynamic "DAH-nah-NAH!" guitar riff. "The End" pops up on the big screen in bold purple font to drum home what we already know (but don't wanna accept) and, sadly, it's all over. There's been a lot of talk/judgement about Axl Rose filling in for Brian Johnson so that AC/DC can finish out their tour. No one could replace Osbourne as Black Sabbath's frontman. That would just be sacrilege.