by RUPERT BOTTENBERG

Seeing as how the Osbournes have superceded the Cleavers as the archetypal TV family, the gloves are off as far as doling out platters that bear Ozzy’s eerie twang this Noel. See, there are plenty of folks, young and old, who regard Ozzy as simply “that paunchy rock star with the little specs and terrible DT shakes.” They need to get schooled! Ozzy Osbourne is no mere rock star, and Black Sabbath, for whom Ozzy crooned through the ’70s, was no mere rock band. Drummer Bill Ward called Sabbath “a phenomena [sic].” I call them a mighty force of nature, an unholy union of blues-rock and classical gas from the heart of darkness that is the shadowy depth’s of man’s soul. Fuck, Sabbath were heavy!

The proof lies in Symptom of the Universe: the Original Black Sabbath 1970-1978 (Rhino/Warner), a two-disc boxy deal that collects highlights from the Ozzy years. Taken from the first eight albums, it includes such masterpieces as “Paranoid,” “Iron man,” “Sweet Leaf,” “Snowblind” and of course the terrifying “Symptom of the Universe,” plus a dope history-of booklet.

For a more thorough look at the life of Sabbath, may I recommend the two The Black Sabbath Story DVDs (Sanctuary/EMI). The second volume documents life after Ozzy, focusing on latter-day howler Ronnie James Dio. The first, however, makes a great companion to the box set above. With extensive interviews, concert footage and archival crap, it documents the birth and rise of the band in a respectful, candid and informative manner.

More sensitive types might have a problem with the demonic ferocity and earthshaking force of Sabbath at their finest. For them I suggest Sabbath in the Suburbs: the Lounge Tribute to Ozzy Osbourne & Black Sabbath (Vitamin), on which the velvet tones of singer Herbert “Ruffles” Lovecraft grace easy-listening versions of Sab classics and numbers from Ozzy’s solo stretch (“Mr. Crowley,” “Crazy Train”) in a variety of soft styles—digi-tango, loopy salsa, ballad rock and Beach Boys pop. :

by AL SOUTH

It’s a Zappa fan’s dream—a record company asks you to compile your favourite Frank songs for a CD that will then be sold to the public. I can see my own disc already: “Jewish Princess,” “Catholic Girls,” “Bobby Brown,” “Willie the Pimp,” “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Sexually Aroused Gas Mask”...

Alas, no one has asked me. But Rykodisc did put the offer to Larry Lalonde of Primus and Jon Fishman of Phish, and the resulting discs are called Zappa Picks. Lalonde’s disc has 19 songs, Fishman’s 16, and the only two in common are “Dog Breath” from Just Another Band From L.A. and “Sofa No. 2” from One Size Fits All.

Typically, the Primus guitarist leans more towards jittery tunes with odd time signatures, while the Phish drummer opts for trippier jam-style numbers. Both, though, choose mainly from the mid to late period of Zappa’s career (three songs from Sheik Yerbouti from Fishman, two from Joe’s Garage from Lalonde). Can’t say that these are the songs I would have picked, and no doubt Kylie Minogue and Ice Cube will select very different tunes when their Zappa Picks CDs come out next year, but whatever, quibbling with the choices merely adds to the enjoyment. “Keep It Greasey” (Fishman) vs. “Fembot in a Wet T-Shirt” (Lalonde) from Joe’s Garage? Point, Lalonde! “Excentrifugal Force” (F) vs. “St. Alfonzo’s Pancake Breakfast” (L) from Apostrophe? Uh, a tie! Songs that mention Montreal/Canada? Fishman, no contest (“Magdalena”)! One Xmas idea: give your loved one these two discs along with a Zappa CD that you’ve burnt yourself, thus adding a warm personal touch.

Also, you could top off the gift package with the new book Dangerous Kitchen: The Subversive World of Frank Zappa (ECW Press) by Canadian writer/broadcaster Kevin Courrier. It’s a well-researched, 548-page tome that I know is well-researched since it even includes some quotes from an interview that this reporter conducted with the great man in 1992 for an obscure publication that shortly thereafter went defunct (along with Frank).

All in all, put these in a stocking with some lumpy gravy and your holiday shopping is done. :