It had been my intention to spend yesterday (Sunday) making the November podcast using the suggested Southern theme, but two things kept me from meeting that goal. First was homework, which can’t be helped. Second, and more pivotal, was the fact that I don’t yet own a physical copy of Spiral Shadow by Kylesa.

Fucking tragedy, right?

I tried to remedy this first at Sound Exchange in Wayne, my go-to shop for its proximity to my humble river valley and for the fact that if it’s between them and almost anyone else in the physical realm, I’d rather give them the money. They were a no dice. Thus began the agonizing, drawn-out process of not wanting to drive to Vintage Vinyl in Fords — an hour away on a good day — and knowing that I had zero chance of finding Spiral Shadow anywhere else near me.

My ride to Vintage Vinyl is agony, and not just because I have to spend the whole time anticipating what treasures I might find when I get there. It includes some of Northern New Jersey‘s most cripplingly boring roads, including Rt. 24, Rt. 78 and the ludicrously engineered Garden State Parkway. Nonetheless, at about four o’clock yesterday afternoon, after whining for nearly two hours about how much I didn’t want to make the trip — and no, it’s not lost on me that that’s long enough to make the trip twice over — off I went.

Should’ve called first. They didn’t have it. They’d only gotten a few copies and those were gone. Boy, did I feel stupid. Who does that? Who spends two hours in a car at the prospect of buying a CD without calling first to make sure the store has it?

I drowned my jackass sorrows in picking up The Elf Albums by Ronnie James Dio (and the rest of Elf, who aren’t cool enough to get mentioned on the cover), a used copy of Celestial Hi-Fi by Sheavy, who I never particularly enjoy hearing but keep buying the records of when I see them, Hippie Killer by Bongripper for $6.99, a used copy of the Boris and Ian Astbury collaboration, BXI, and, for $3.99, the version of Entombed‘s Wolverine Blues with the (apparently not) titular Marvel Comics character on the front.

The latter was obviously the find of the trip, but even that wasn’t enough to make me feel like any less of an idiot for spending that much of my day in blind pursuit of Spiral Shadow, which, it should be noted, I still haven’t gotten and is now holding up the November podcast. I don’t own Black Tusk either, but there are enough bands around who sound just like them that I can let that go. The Kylesa I pretty much need. The dude behind the counter said they’d be getting more this week, and I might try another run tomorrow, but needless to say, I’ll be calling first.

Fuckin’ “L.A. Connection.” This song rules, man. This was one of three videos Blabbermouth posted that were put up by former Rainbow/Ozzy bassist Bob Daisley, and damned if I could find anything better to close out the week. It doesn’t get much better than ’70s Ritchie Blackmore and Ronnie James Dio kicking out a ridiculous hard rock song that has nothing to do with anything.

There’s a new podcast coming this weekend. Do you know what the theme will be? I do. I guess you’ll just have to stay on this page and click “Refresh” until it’s actually posted so you can find out.

Next week we wrap up August, and I promise I’ll finally have that Yawning Man feature up. I’m also slated to do two more interviews, and I’ve got conversations with Man’s Gin and Masters of Reality already in the can, so we should be well stocked. Next week also starts the semester, which is terrifying but a reality I was going to have to face sooner or later. Can I work, go to school and manage the most kickass stoner blog in the known multiverse? Probably not, but it’ll be fun anyway.

It’s only appropriate to end this week with Dio. I chose a clip for the song “I” from Black Sabbath‘s Dehumanizer tour, probably 1992 or somewhere thereabouts. Great song, and one I didn’t include in the Dio-cast, and not a bad video in that classic bootleggy kind of way, so enjoy and remember.

At least we have good music, right? When all else fails, at least there’s that.

Wherever you are, if the libations and timing are appropriate tonight, raise a toast to Ronnie James Dio, and please be safe. We’ll see you back here next week.

There were rumors floating around some last night, but Wendy Dio has now confirmed via Blabbermouth that her husband, LEGENDARY metal vocalist Ronnie James Dio has died of the stomach cancer he’d been battling since winter. As a longtime fan of Dio‘s work, I on behalf of this dinkly little website The Obelisk send condolences to Wendy and others who knew Ronnie in either a personal or professional capacity.

I don’t know what to think and I’d feel dirty editorializing. He was my hero. We knew he was sick and we could extrapolate if we wanted to that it wasn’t going well when Heaven and Hell canceled their touring plans. I didn’t want to extrapolate. I wanted to think he’d beat cancer like it was a giant rubber dragon in 1983 and be back putting out Magica II and III in no time.

Mourning later. Music now.

As a loyal denizen of several of northern New Jersey‘s respected independent record stores, it’s with a heavy heart that I hereby call shenanigans on some shady-type business practices going on around here. I won’t name the stores, because the indie record shop is a dying breed (not that anything I said would have the power to kill it anyway) and I do genuinely support both establishments. Knowing what I know, I not only still bought their products, but I would and undoubtedly will do it again too.

There are two instances I wish to report: the first at a shop not too far from the valley to which I’ve been going for years now. Last week I went to pick up a new Black Sabbath bootleg, just for the hell of it, and after failing to obtain the legendary Paris 1970 show, I opted for a collection of demos from what would become Dehumanizer. Hardly the best tradeoff, but whatever. I’ll take what I can get most of the time.

You can see from the front cover (and the back cover after the jump), it’s an inkjet job. That is, whoever distributes the disc probably also manufactured it with an inkjet printer and CD burner. The decline in quality of printed bootlegs is an unfortunate consequence of the digital age, but it’s also a gripe for another time. I’ve come to accept that it’s the way things are now. When you shop for bootlegs, you’re probably going to get some homemade crap.

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The current Ronnie James Dio-fronted incarnation of Black Sabbath, Heaven and Hell has announced the title of their highly-anticipated new album is… The Devil You Know. Hardly inspirational. Nothing starts the buzz going like naming your album a clich?, let alone one that denotes something familiar and/or generic. Might as well call it Playing it Safe.

Yes, I know it’s blasphemy to defame anything that comes from the fingers of Tony Iommi — we just won’t talk about Forbidden — but an album named The Devil You Know hardly fills my heart with excitement. Also revealed on Blabbermouth were the song titles “Bible Black” (uh huh), “Rock & Roll Angel” (pure Dio, that one), “Breaking into Heaven” (as opposed to being hungry for it, okay), “Atom & Evil” (sounds way Dehumanizer) and my personal favorite, “Eating the Cannibals.” That song, no matter what, will rule.

Iommi himself has compared the record to Dehumanizer, and the truth is that no matter how much it sucks, it’s going to rule. Vinny Appice is one of the least interesting rock drummers I’ve ever seen, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Black Sabbath, you have to like it. There’s no choice. You signed up? Well, this is what you signed up for.

In all seriousness, I am looking forward to… The Devil You Know… ugh… but I have no delusions that it’s going to be a great album. I think Dehumanizer is a cool record, and if this sounds like modernized Dehumanizer, fine, but anyone who’s thinking it’s 1980 again and the band are about to unleash a second Heaven and Hell on the world are out of their minds. That time has simply passed — 30 years ago.

Approached with reasonable expectations, this Devil may yet be worth knowing, even with that crappy, crappy title. I mean, come on. It’s got Geezer Butler and a song called “Eating the Cannibals!” What could possibly go wrong?