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| Zakk Wylde pic from Electrovoice.com |
You know, Ozzy still sounds great, still has that booming hellspawn voice that makes even the most empty headed lyrics sound full and evil. That's more than I can say for opener Rob Zombie, who pointed the mic at the crowd for the long notes and the rest of the time sounded like Cookie Monster. Dig through the ditches and burn through the witches and num num num cookie good.
But Ozzy was kinda great. Somebody thought it would be funny to give him some kind of foam-firing cannon and point him toward the crowd. That person was right. The Ozzman coateth the same 100 people relentlessly, thoroughly, repeatedly. It was a huge mess, but everybody seemed to rock out and have a good time. Except.
Okay, time for a little rant:
Zakk Wylde has got to be stopped. Yeah, he's kind of a thrash legend, but. But. Every opportunity — not that he doesn't force it, too — Wylde slides his fingers as far down on the thin strings as he can and makes these high-pitched screetchiddydoos. Seriously, he can't help himself. Every pause, every break, and my god, the solos. I dig the way he literally beats his own chest while he plays (and the 300 poster taped to his amp was a nice touch), but the dude turned "Bark at the Moon" into grisly, tedious pointilism. But the real problem is those screetchiddydoos. The things this man is doing to Randy Rhoads' legacy are unconscionable.
I hung outside of Ozzyâ s hotel waiting for him to get the tour bus over to the Spectrum. When he came out, he looked like a frail old man with a ghostly white face and newly black dyed hair. He was guided to the bus as the bodyguard stated no pictures. I complied as I was dumbfounded by the aging Ozzy. Earlier a few autograzzi ran into Zakk Wylde coming out of the Capital Grille. He posed and signed for the guys
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