By Tony Iommi
Iron Man chronicles the tale of either pioneering guitarist Tony Iommi and mythical band Black Sabbath, dubbed “The Beatles of heavy metal” via Rolling Stone. Iron Man unearths the guy at the back of the icon but nonetheless captures Iommi’s humor, intelligence, and heat. He speaks in truth and unflinchingly approximately his rough-and-tumble early life, the twist of fate that nearly ended his profession, his failed marriages, own tragedies, battles with habit, band associates, recognized pals, newfound daughter, and the ups and downs of his lifestyles as an artist.
Everything linked to demanding rock occurred to Black Sabbath first: the medicine, the debauchery, the consuming, the dungeons, the strain, the discomfort, the conquests, the corporate males, the contracts, the flamable drummer, the critics, the comebacks, the singers, the Stonehenge set, the song, the money, the insanity, the steel.
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Additional resources for Iron Man: My Journey through Heaven and Hell with Black Sabbath
Example text
All of a sudden he started doing this strange-sounding music, almost overnight. " You can hit anything, any kind of chord. Like John Cage playing the shit he's playing, making all them strange sounds and noises. Music is wide open for anything. " Like, he'd be playing "My Funny Valentine" in a major key and it's supposed to be 94 played in D minor. But he would just smile that sweet smile of his and keep doing what he was doing. Mingus was something else, man, a pure genius. I loved him. Anyway, during the summer of 1946-late August I think-Billy Eckstine's band came to Los Angeles.
On the first day of rehearsal, everybody showed up but Bird. We waited around for a couple of hours and I ended up rehearsing the band. Now, opening night, the Three Deuces is packed. We ain't seen Bird in a week, but we'd been rehearsing our asses off. So here this nigger comes in smiling and shit, asking is everybody ready to play, in that fake British accent of his. " I tell him. He nods, counts off the beat and plays every motherfucking tune in the exact key we had 102 rehearsed it in. He played like a motherfucker.
Sonny Criss, an alto player, used to sit in, and Art Farmer, Red Callender, the bassist, and Red's protege, that crazy, beautiful motherfucker, Charlie Mingus. Charlie Mingus loved Rird, man, almost like I have never seen nobody love. Maybe Max Roach loved Bird that much. But Mingus, shit, he used to come to see and hear Bird almost every night. He couldn't get enough of Bird. He also liked me a lot. But Mingus could play the bass and everybody knew when they heard him that he would become as bad as he became.