This week In ‘Hard & Metal Throwback’ 07/52

1 . Black Sabbath . N.I.B.

Clocking in as the fourth track on Black Sabbath’s 1970 self-titled debut album, “N.I.B.” stands as both a curious artifact and a potent statement within the heavy metal canon.

The title, derived from drummer Bill Ward’s beard resembling a pen nib, resists any connection to the song’s actual content. Geezer Butler, the band’s bassist and lyricist, threw punctuation marks around the nickname to mask the absence of thematic relevance, as if daring listeners to assign their own meaning. It’s an odd choice, emblematic of the offhand experimentation defining much of early heavy metal’s gestation.

Musically, “N.I.B.” carries the weight of its live origins. Butler recalls band jams from grueling European gigs where the track could stretch to 45 minutes—an indulgence mercifully dialed back under producer Rodger Bain’s guidance. This controlled chaos is evident in the studio version, where the leaner runtime intensifies Tony Iommi’s tectonic guitar riffs while Butler’s bass solo, enhanced by a wah-wah pedal at Bain’s suggestion, tips the track toward psychedelic flirtation.

Then there are the lyrics, relayed through Ozzy Osbourne’s plaintive vocals. Depicting Lucifer’s transformation via love, they embrace both melodrama and an almost comic sincerity. Such themes were all but guaranteed to provoke controversy, as Sabbath’s fascination with the occult continued to spark as many headlines as their music.

Although “N.I.B.” itself bypassed the charts, it arrived as part of an album whose initial commercial tepidness belied its eventual impact. Later covers, like the cinematic heft of Primus’s version featuring Osbourne for “Nativity in Black II,” would gauge its enduring appeal. Live recordings, such as the December 1970 performance in Paris, further underline its role in the band’s early setlists.

Is “N.I.B.” a triumph? Perhaps more of a thesis statement. It threads texture and audacity into a dynamic framework, reacting to an emerging genre’s demands even as it challenges its constraints.

Lifted from : Vertigo publish ‘Black Sabbath’ their eponymous debut album featuring ‘N.I.B.’ (1970)

2 . Whitesnake . Here I Go Again

“Here I Go Again,” in its original 1982 incarnation from the “Saints & Sinners” album, breathes tension and vulnerability born from David Coverdale’s marital strains. Produced by Martin Birch and co-written with Bernie Marsden, the song feels both intimate and expansive, a curious blend of personal lament and arena-sized ambition. The line “Like a hobo I was born to walk alone,” though later altered to “drifter” to sidestep mishearings, underscores the song’s rugged solitude, though it arguably softens the raw emotional weight of the original phrasing.

Chart-wise, this version performed modestly, peaking at 34 on the UK Singles Chart while gaining only minor traction in Australia and Germany. Its reception framed it not as a cultural juggernaut, but a stepping stone, quietly simmering before evolving into its more bombastic 1987 re-recording.

The 1987 update, a polished powerhouse designed for the MTV generation, transformed “Here I Go Again” into an anthem. With its re-release tied to strategic negotiations by record executives Al Coury and David Geffen, this version soared to number one on the Billboard Hot 100 and hit number nine on the UK Singles Chart. The revamped production traded subtlety for synthesizers and stadium drums, amplifying its commercial appeal while dulling some of its raw edges.

The accompanying music video, featuring Tawny Kitaen’s car-top choreography, cemented its visual identity but risked reducing the song’s earnestness to glam spectacle. The track’s later resurgence following Kitaen’s death and frequent karaoke airings signal not just nostalgia but an ongoing dialogue with its legacy.

Ultimately, the song navigates the tightrope between authenticity and commercial pragmatism, its dual versions reflecting both a band in flux and a cultural chameleon capturing its moment.

Lifted from : Whitesnake celebrate Deep Purple (2015)

3 . Kiss . Detroit Rock City

Metallica’s rendition of “Whiskey in the Jar,” housed within their 1998 covers album “Garage Inc.,” is a gritty homage to Thin Lizzy’s 1972 classic adaptation of the Irish traditional tune.

Recorded at The Plant Studios in Sausalito, California, during the fall of 1998, the band’s approach reframes the song’s folk roots in the language of hard rock, decorated with Metallica’s signature sonic heft.

James Hetfield shifts from frontman to guitarist for this track, swapping his usual rhythm for a stab at lead, while Kirk Hammett slips into the rhythm role. This shake-up adds an intriguing layer to their performance, even if it doesn’t fully transcend the original Thin Lizzy arrangement.

Lyrically, “Whiskey in the Jar” presents the familiar tale of betrayal: a roguish outlaw is undone by his lover, Molly. While the narrative is endearing in its simplicity, Metallica channels its campfire charm through a filtered lens of amplified volume and muscular riffs. The result feels less like a storytelling ballad and more like a full-throttle charge through history.

With its peak at number 29 on the UK Singles Chart, a Grammy win for Best Hard Rock Performance in 2000, and an enduring presence of 109 weeks on the Official Rock & Metal Singles Chart, the track’s commercial successes speak to its broad appeal. Yet, it remains less an original triumph and more a sturdy exercise in reinterpretation.

The band has performed it live sparingly—27 times to be exact—with notable appearances in Dublin and at Ireland’s Slane Castle, paying tribute to Phil Lynott, Thin Lizzy’s late frontman. These live renditions feel custom-made for Irish venues, but whether they capture the folk spirit of the song or simply transplant it into arena rock is debatable.

As an entry in Metallica’s discography, “Whiskey in the Jar” is a competent, if predictable, example of tradition meeting modernity, though it leans heavily on Thin Lizzy’s blueprint. It’s a cover that raises a glass to its lineage but sips rather than gulps from the cup of reinvention.

Lifted from : Kiss rock the Garden for the first time (1977)

3 . Metallica – Whiskey in the Jar

Lifted from : Metallica serenade Bologna (2018)

4 . Metallica . Damage, Inc.

“Damage, Inc.” closes Metallica’s 1986 landmark album “Master of Puppets” with a thrash-heavy exclamation point, unapologetically delivering raw aggression and technical precision.

The opening moments betray its ferocity, with a bass-driven intro courtesy of Cliff Burton that feels like a sudden, cosmic calm before the storm. Burton himself labeled it a layered tapestry of “eight or 12 tracks of bass” with harmonies and effects—a tonal misdirect that lulls listeners into a false sense of serenity before the main riff explodes.

As the last pure thrash track on the record—and Burton’s final contribution before his untimely death—”Damage, Inc.” holds a poignant place in the band’s discography. Its galloping rhythm sections and relentless riff progressions underscore Metallica’s mastery of organized chaos, seamlessly packaging fury into a tight technical framework.

While the song didn’t chart individually, its role in elevating “Master of Puppets” to commercial and critical acclaim is indisputable. The album ascended to number 41 in the UK and 29 on the US Billboard 200, a feat amplified by the track’s inclusion in the “Damage, Inc. Tour” from 1986.

Having been performed live 310 times, starting at the Kansas Coliseum in March 1986 and as recently as NOS Alive 2022, the song’s enduring resonance with fans is undeniable. It has also inspired 55 cover versions, proving its influence among peers and beyond.

The ultra-tight arrangement and unyielding tempo may lack the melodic hooks found in other album highlights, but this is precisely where “Damage, Inc.” thrives. It opts instead to embody pure, unrelenting violence—a fitting anthem for the album’s closing salvo and a lasting tribute to Burton’s innovation.

Lifted from : Metallica rock Inglewood (1992)

5 . Led Zeppelin . Sick Again

“Sick Again,” a track from Led Zeppelin’s 1975 double album “Physical Graffiti,” channels the band’s signature swagger while revealing a stark commentary on the backstage dynamics of their 1970s heyday.

Written by Robert Plant, the lyrics shine a sobering light on the “L.A. Queens,” a group of teenage groupies the band encountered on their 1973 U.S. tour.

Plant’s vocal delivery teeters between detachment and pity as he chronicles their rapid loss of innocence.

Lines like “Clutchin pages from your teenage dream in the lobby of the Hotel Paradise” mix vivid imagery with a melancholy undercurrent, gifting the song a depth that isn’t always apparent amidst its propulsive energy.

Musically, Jimmy Page wields his electric guitar with characteristic charisma, crafting gritty yet melodic riffs that anchor the track.

John Paul Jones and John Bonham form a robust rhythm section; their contributions make the track lumber with a hypnotic swagger rather than charging recklessly forward.

As part of an album that debuted at number one on the UK charts and climbed to the top of the U.S. Billboard Pop Albums chart, “Sick Again” stands as a microcosm of the mix of virtuosity and volatility that defined Led Zeppelin’s prime years.

The track’s live renditions, particularly during their 1975 and 1977 tours, often slotted as the second song, emphasized its gritty appeal.

A live performance at the 1979 Knebworth Festival, later included in the 2003 “Led Zeppelin DVD,” captures its raw energy as Page’s guitar lines cut into the crowd like jagged glass.

While it didn’t chart as a standalone single, its place on an album that sold over 8 million copies in the U.S. cements its importance in the band’s history.

Even decades later, its themes resonate, less as a triumphant anthem and more as a snapshot of the excesses and casualties of the rock and roll lifestyle.

Lifted from : Led Zeppelin are in New-York (1975)

6 . AC/DC . Thunderstruck

“Thunderstruck,” the flagship single from AC/DC’s “The Razors Edge,” offers an electrifying statement as the band strides into the 1990s.

The track is built around a hypnotic guitar riff dreamed up during an Angus Young warm-up session, later anchored by Malcolm Young’s rhythm—a binary act of precision and spontaneity that feels almost surgical in its execution. This sonic skeleton barrels through the four-minute runtime, a testament to the band’s commitment to their formula, for better or worse.

Despite peaking at #4 on the Rock Digital Songs chart and hitting #5 on the Mainstream Rock chart, the song achieves more in endurance than innovation. Its ability to climb the Hard Rock Streaming Songs and Hard Rock Digital Song Sales charts in 2024 proves the composition’s remarkable shelf life, even if its repetitive structure occasionally borders on autopilot.

The lyrics, like much of AC/DC’s catalogue, lean heavily into nocturnal escapades, capturing youthful rebellion in anthemic chants like “I was caught in the middle of a railroad track.” Throwaway as they might sound, these lines stick—less profound poetry than primal instinct. The titular “Thunderstruck,” couched in electric euphoria, extends its drama as a recurring punchline rather than evolving into something deeper.

The music video, helmed by David Mallet, stages the band in London’s Brixton Academy before fervent fans—a visual reminder of AC/DC’s unyielding devotion to live vigor. With over a billion YouTube views, this isn’t so much a visual as it is a ritual, one that ignites their performances, including tours as recent as in support of their 2020 album “Power Up.”

Though critics might argue that the songwriting leans on AC/DC’s tried-and-true playbook, commercial recognition has validated the formula. A Diamond certification from the RIAA for over 10 million sales underscores its global resonance.

In hindsight, “Thunderstruck” thrives not because it reshaped AC/DC’s sound but because it doubled down on their elemental appeal: sledgehammer riffs paired with adrenaline rush spectacle.

Lifted from : AC/DC come back to Melbourne (2001)

7 . Pantera . A New Level

“Domination,” the sixth track on Pantera’s 1990 album “Cowboys from Hell,” barrels forward with the subtlety of a wrecking ball, tethered to D major but careening through its 141 beats per minute with raw precision. Recorded in 1989 and produced by Terry Date, the track uncharacteristically stems from its first take—a testament to the band’s tightness during rehearsals.

The personnel—Phil Anselmo on vocals, Dimebag Darrell on guitars, Rex Brown on bass, and Vinnie Paul on drums—each bring their signature intensity. Anselmo’s vocals vacillate between barked commands and guttural declarations, a perfect foil to Darrell’s guitar work, which alternates between searing solos and locked-in riffing. Rex Brown’s bass underpins it all with a brooding undercurrent, while Vinnie Paul’s drums erupt with calculated ferocity. It’s a track engineered for chaos yet executed with surprising finesse.

As a live opener on tour from 1990 to 1991, “Domination” became a sonic statement of intent. The middle breakdown—lauded by Loudwire as Pantera’s most brutal—cements its stature, though it may not entirely escape the gauntlet of its own high self-seriousness. While the song itself avoided chart recognition, the “Cowboys from Hell” album peaked at number 64 on the UK Albums Chart, solidifying the band’s direction toward groove metal dominance.

On YouTube, its outsized influence continues decades later. In the official live video, uploaded in 2009, the band hurls their physicality into every note, whipping the crowd into heaving masses. Meanwhile, Rhino’s studio upload revisits the surgical clarity of the original 1990 recording. Revered or dissected, “Domination” remains unavoidable—its breakdown alone a metal Rosetta Stone, inspiring even Anthrax to riff on it during Dimebag Darrell’s birthday tribute in 2022.

Not without flaws, the track could argue with itself whether grooviness or aggression takes precedence. Yet, its unvarnished nature, having survived a single take, aligns perfectly with the era’s ethos: less polish, more impact.

Lifted from : Pantera serenade Philadelphia (1999)

8 . Rush . YYZ

An aviation code turned musical virtuoso’s playground, “YYZ” from Rush’s 1981 album “Moving Pictures” doesn’t just pass through your ears; it practically taxis down your mental runway with ambition.

The title alone nods to Toronto International Airport’s IATA code, weaving a tale of homecomings and global treks without uttering a single word. This instrumental track stalks the listener with a jagged 10/8 time signature—less a rhythm, more a controlled turbulence. The structure grants Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart their solo spotlights without devolving into mere musical showing off. Think of it as a tightly packed suitcase: plenty stuffed in but impeccably organized.

Lifeson’s guitar haunts the track with hints of eastern modalities, a surprising detour for an airport-inspired tune. The composition thrives in its ability to balance technical prowess with understated thematic touches, like incorporating the actual airport identifier’s radio beeps into the opening riff. This interplay of utility and artistry contrasts sharply with its failure to chart due to radio’s allergy to instrumentals. Still, enduring its setbacks is part of the song’s charm—it’s the baggage you check, a bit heavier than expected but filled with treasures.

“YYZ” flourishes live, where Rush’s precision becomes nearly cinematic. Be it the “Live in YYZ 1981” recordings or its place in the 40th-anniversary box set, the track feels less archival and more alive, gaining sharper dimensions in every performance. Yet there lies an irony: it’s about arrivals and departures, but what Rush delivers here feels more like a permanent stamp in progressive rock’s passport.

Lifted from : Rush release ‘Moving Pictures’ their eighth album (1981)

9 . Deep Purple . Burn

“Burn,” the opening track of Deep Purple’s 1974 album “Burn,” announces the Mark III lineup with a swagger that seems almost irreverent to its predecessors. Recorded in Montreux, Switzerland, in November 1973, this song brings together the distinctly grittier vocal power of newcomer David Coverdale and the searing guitar of Ritchie Blackmore, creating a work that straddles the line between hard rock and theatrical storytelling.

The composition, co-written by Coverdale and Blackmore, swings with an energy reportedly inspired by “Fascinating Rhythm” from the Gershwin brothers, though the final product trades jazzy syncopation for a relentless, fiery groove. Blackmore’s fascination with the macabre is front and center in the lyrics, written by Coverdale, which unravel a cautionary tale steeped in witchcraft and medieval intrigue—a woman accused of casting fires with just a wave of her hand. It’s melodramatic, yes, but the delivery is so forceful that it’s hard to care about subtlety.

The song, while never charting as a single, was part of an album that climbed to number 3 on the UK Official Albums Chart and lingered there for 18 weeks—a commercial success that speaks to the strength of the collective rather than individual hits. In live performances, “Burn” quickly became a staple for the next two years, showcasing not only Blackmore’s blistering solos but Jon Lord’s ferocious keyboard interplay and Ian Paice’s unrelenting drumming. Glenn Hughes, handling bass duties, adds a thickness that keeps the track grounded, though it occasionally feels like the song pulls in too many directions at once.

Is “Burn” a sonic reinvention or just an aggressive recalibration? Whichever the case, it undeniably sets an incendiary tone for Deep Purple’s Mark III era, even if its overt theatricality risks alienating purists. The execution is superbly tight, but dig beneath the pyrotechnics and you’ll hear the faint echo of the more straightforward rock ethos the band once championed—an occasional contradiction that doesn’t smolder so much as it sparks. Then again, sparks are enough to start a fire.

Lifted from : Deep Purple release their eighth album . ‘Burn’ featuring David Coverdale on vocals (1974)

10 . Guns N’ Roses . Welcome To The Jungle

“Welcome to the Jungle” stomps into the scene with all the swagger of late-’80s Los Angeles, channeling the chaotic energy of its concrete sprawl into a feral rock anthem. Recorded in 1987 and produced by Mike Clink for Guns N’ Roses’ debut album “Appetite for Destruction,” the track captures a raw immediacy that feels both thrilling and unnerving.

Musically, the song’s dense, slithering guitar riff from Slash acts like a taunting predator, circling until Axl Rose’s piercing wail lunges in with the now-iconic line, “You know where you are?” This primal energy is bolstered by the rhythm section, a tight yet loose backdrop reminiscent of the wild unpredictability that Hollywood streets once promised—and frankly, delivered, as guitarist Izzy Stradlin noted.

Chart-wise, the song carved its mark with a U.S. Billboard Hot 100 peak at number seven, a commendable feat for a band just starting. Across the Atlantic, it landed at number 24 on the UK Singles Chart, sustaining a seven-week presence, peaking on November 6, 1988. For a track embodying urban chaos, its staying power juxtaposes oddly against the fleeting temptations its lyrics warn of.

Speaking of lyrics, Rose’s inspiration—encounters in New York tinged with urban grit—injects authenticity, as does the unrefined menace of Hollywood in the early ’80s. The words mirror the music’s aggression, crafting a world where bright lights are traps, and survival means sidestepping ruin.

Visually, the accompanying music video, a now-ubiquitous MTV staple, adds yet another jarring layer. Rose transforms from an innocent outsider to a frenetic emblem of the city’s darker allure, a fitting visual metaphor for the song’s narrative arc.

As a live mainstay, the track thrives on volume and exuberance, energizing audiences and retaining its edge decades beyond its release. Still, the relentlessness of its sonic attack might feel grating to listeners less inclined toward such raw ferocity. But maybe that’s the point—aural discomfort as a reflection of urban anxiety.

Lifted from : Guns N’ Roses keep it small (2012)

11 . Iron Maiden . 2 Minutes to Midnight

“2 Minutes to Midnight,” released on August 6, 1984, is Iron Maiden at their most incisive, delivering a sharp-edged critique of global self-destruction cloaked in the band’s signature heavy metal theatrics.

Crafted by Adrian Smith and Bruce Dickinson in a burst of creative synergy, the song materialized in roughly 20 minutes—a blistering process that mirrors the urgency of its subject matter. Inspired by the Cold War tensions and the metaphorical Doomsday Clock looming at two minutes to midnight, Dickinson’s lyrics offer a sardonic commentary on the seductive allure and grim consequences of war.

Musically, the track boasts one of Iron Maiden’s most memorable riffs. Smith’s work on the guitar is razor-sharp, commanding attention without veering into self-indulgence. The rhythm section propels the song steadily, a relentless reminder of the ticking clock the lyrics depict. Dickinson’s vocal delivery strikes a balance between theatricality and visceral anger, giving voice to the song’s blend of horror and fascination.

Chart performance reflects its immediate impact. Peaking at No. 11 on the UK Singles Chart and climbing to No. 25 on the US Billboard Mainstream Rock chart, it also snagged a spot at No. 10 in Ireland. The success of the single bolstered the “Powerslave” album, which achieved platinum status, underscoring the track’s influence.

The accompanying music video captures the song’s dark humor and Cold War paranoia, featuring an espionage-driven narrative enhanced by early computer graphics. While visually dated by today’s standards, its conceptual ambition marked a shift for the band, showcasing a willingness to engage audiences beyond audio alone.

Over time, “2 Minutes to Midnight” has become a live staple for the band, ranking as their sixth-most performed song per Setlist.fm. This live resilience highlights its connection with audiences, though its ubiquity in setlists might suggest over-reliance on familiar hits rather than deeper cuts.

Legacy-wise, the track endures because its themes remain unsettlingly relevant. The romance and horror of war that Dickinson articulated in 1984 continue to strike a chord in an era still haunted by global tensions. Yet, while its pointed critique is laudable, the track’s narrative can feel a touch simplistic, eschewing complexity for broad strokes.

Ultimately, “2 Minutes to Midnight” exemplifies Iron Maiden’s ability to craft a compelling blend of intellect and intensity, even if the song adheres rigidly to the genre’s conventions. Its power lies in its steadfast refusal to feel safer than the dangerous world it critiques. A masterclass in urgency, despite moments where subtlety is sacrificed for spectacle.

Lifted from : Iron Maiden rock Tokyo (2008)

12 . Cannibal Corpse . I Cum Blood

“I Cum Blood,” the second track on Cannibal Corpse’s 1992 album “Tomb of the Mutilated,” distills the essence of American death metal in just under four minutes.

Musically, its frenetic structure is credited to guitarist Jack Owen, whose compositional fingerprints run across much of the album, including tracks like “Addicted to Vaginal Skin” and “Split Wide Open.” The song’s jagged riffs and relentless drumming form a chaos that’s both meticulously controlled and inherently violent, delivering an auditory assault that’s central to the genre.

The lyrics, penned by vocalist Chris Barnes, tread into the violent and explicit, marking the band’s infamy. Where lyrics in death metal often work as provocative shock value, here they feel almost mechanical in their extremity, a calculated performance of excess that might exhaust as much as it intrigues.

The track lives on as a staple of Cannibal Corpse’s live shows, its impact amplified by infamous moments like the bewildered reaction of a security guard in a video clip from one of their concerts—a rare, unscripted cultural artifact that mirrors the song’s polarizing reception. Meanwhile, “Tomb of the Mutilated,” the album that houses this track, earned its broader distinction by landing at number 278 on Rock Hard magazine’s “500 Greatest Rock & Metal Albums of All Time.”

As a whole, “I Cum Blood” condenses the band’s obsessions with the grotesque into a dense, brash package. Its musicality underscores Owen’s skill, even as its deliberately transgressive persona risks alienating as much as captivating.

Lifted from : Cannibal Corpse serenade San Antonio, Texas (2019)