Latest news with #FearFactory
Scotsman
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Scotsman
is it still a metal classic or has it aged like milk?
This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a small commission on items purchased through this article, but that does not affect our editorial judgement. Has Fear Factory's Demanufacture stood the test of time or, as the prosecution accuse, become a 'flimsy structure' for metal to follow? Sign up to our daily newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to Edinburgh News, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture is widely considered a landmark in metal, but its legacy remains fiercely debated. Accusations range from being overly mechanistic and cold to lacking the warmth and organic feel of traditional metal Is it a pioneering work guilty of derailing a genre, or is it a misunderstood masterpiece deserving of a dramatic re-evaluation? Today, we convene in the solemn chambers of public opinion to preside over a musical case that, while critically lauded in its time, has since been subjected to scrutiny, mischaracterisation, and perhaps, a failure to fully grasp its true impact. On trial: Demanufacture by Fear Factory, a 1995 release that arrived with the force of a hydraulic press, forging a path between industrial coldness and metallic brutality. Often cited as a pioneering work, it has also faced criticisms of being too rigid, too mechanical, and even, by some, too influential in ways that led to less desirable offshoots. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence, however, believes there is compelling evidence for its enduring genius and rightful place as a monumental achievement in heavy music. Before we delve into today's proceedings, let us set the scene. Is Fear Factory's Demanufacture a work of art, or is it merely a work of 'calculated aggression?' | Getty Images/Canva In the mid-1990s, the landscape of heavy music was in flux. Metal, in its traditional forms, was still powerful, but new hybrids were emerging, challenging conventions and setting the stage for what would become one of the decade's most defining, and often divisive, sounds: nu-metal. It was into this fertile, yet volatile, ground that Fear Factory emerged. Formed in Los Angeles in 1989, Fear Factory quickly distinguished themselves from their peers. Comprised of vocalist Burton C. Bell, guitarist Dino Cazares, bassist Christian Olde Wolbers, and drummer Raymond Herrera, the band forged a unique sound that relentlessly fused industrial machine-like precision with death metal's aggression and groove metal's rhythmic drive. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad They built a reputation for pioneering a distinct rhythmic assault, often employing blast beats, double bass drumming, and heavily palm-muted guitar riffs that sounded more like percussive machinery than traditional shredding. Their lyrical themes, consistently exploring the uneasy relationship between man and machine, technology and humanity, carved out a distinct conceptual identity that resonated with a generation grappling with the digital age. It was in 1995 that Fear Factory released their second studio album, Demanufacture. Upon its arrival, it was heralded by many as a ground-breaking work, a bold leap forward that redefined the boundaries of extreme music. However, over the years, Demanufacture has become a subject of considerable controversy and debate. While praised for its innovation and brutal efficiency, it has also been accused of being cold, sterile, and overly mechanical, with critics questioning its emotional depth and whether its influential sound inadvertently paved the way for more simplistic and less organic forms of metal. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad To truly analyse its impact and legacy – and to confront these long-standing accusations – we are today putting Demanufacture on 'musical trial' in the court of public opinion. Let the proceedings begin. In defence of: Fear Factory - Demanufacture The Charge The album, Demanufacture by Fear Factory, stands accused of being a sterile, overly mechanistic, and emotionally cold blueprint for a wave of metal that prioritised rhythm and aggression over organic feel and nuanced musicianship, ultimately contributing to a perceived dehumanisation of the genre. The Prosecution Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are presented today with an album that, on the surface, might appear to be a marvel of precision and force. Indeed, upon its release, Demanufacture was met with considerable acclaim. But I submit to you that this very precision, this relentless, machine-gun rhythm, this calculated coldness, is precisely its greatest sin. The evidence will demonstrate that Demanufacture, for all its apparent innovation, presented a stark, almost unfeeling vision of metal. The drumming, while undeniably fast, often felt more like a programmed beat than the fluid expression of a human hand. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As one reviewer noted regarding drummer Raymond Herrera's work, it's "precision machine gun fire drum work," often raising questions of "whether his drum work is not redone to some extent with studio magic, because it is totally mind blowing, despite the fact that he rarely touches his cymbals." This "machine-like" quality, while impressive, sacrifices the organic warmth of human performance. The guitar riffs, precise and percussive, largely eschewed the melodic complexity and dynamic range that defined earlier eras of metal, reducing the instrument to a rhythmic hammer. Critics have pointed out that Demanufacture "doesn't try to wow you with high-pitched vocals or blazing guitar solos as this album features absolutely none of that." This minimalist approach to traditional metal elements, while a deliberate choice, stripped away much of the expressive freedom cherished by purists. Even the vocals, while shifting between guttural roars and clean, almost ethereal melodies, often contributed to an unsettling dichotomy rather than a cohesive emotional landscape, with some finding the clean vocals "somewhat off key" at times Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We contend that this album, by "prioritising mechanisation over human elements" [paraphrased from general criticism], laid the groundwork for a future where metal became less about fiery passion and more about calculated aggression, paving the way for bands that would imitate its mechanical precision without capturing its conceptual ambition. It streamlined, it systematised, it... de-manufactured the very soul of heavy music, leading to a sound that, "while powerful, often sounded very lifeless when compared to their later work" and "very compressed by today's standards." It set a precedent for a sound that, in less capable hands, often became predictable, repetitive, and ultimately, devoid of the human element. The defence may speak of innovation, but we will show you an album that, despite its power, ultimately sacrificed warmth and humanity for the cold, unyielding embrace of the machine. This album, we contend, is guilty of establishing a blueprint that, while powerful, often led metal astray. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence Members of the court of public opinion, I appreciate the arguments that the Prosecution has levied against the album, but I remind them of the state of metal at the time. This was in 1995, where the metal genre was just on the cusp of breaking into mainstream avenues through acts such as Korn, Limp Bizkit, and in later years, Linkin Park. Where some groups might have changed their formula to reflect the change in trends, I argue that Fear Factory "evolved" their sound not simply to be accessible for newer fans of the genre, but to ensure they did not alienate older fans of their industrial style. Demanufacture indeed sounds emotionally cold and lacks organic warmth; but that is precisely the point of the album. It's a meticulously crafted concept album about a man's struggles against a machine-controlled government, with each song a chapter in his life. As the band themselves stated, the album took its inspiration from the movie The Terminator, and within that context, the 'stark, unfeeling' nature of the album and lack of organic warmth is not a flaw, but a deliberate and essential artistic choice. This is an album that is meant to evoke emotions of technology taking over organic matter, and thus had to prioritise mechanisation over human elements. Not just that, but the very nature of industrial metal lends itself to having a cold, mechanical resonance to it, and I point to the likes of Nine Inch Nails or Godflesh as previous evidence of this aesthetic being central to the genre. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The charges of being lifeless and compressed, giving it a powerful, suffocating feel, are exactly the kind of emotions Fear Factory looked to evoke with the work. Again, members of the court, this is a concept album about technology taking over. The relentless, percussive guitaring perfectly compliments the blunt force nature of the drumming, giving listeners such as myself vivid images of mechanical presses, whirling machinery, and cold, metallic elements as part of the story's chilling narrative. This wasn't a flaw; it was a masterful sonic design choice that immersed the listener in the album's dystopian vision. As for the charge against Burton C. Bell's vocals, his performance perfectly embodies the album's themes of man versus machine. What the Prosecution labels as "off-key" is, I submit, an unfair and superficial judgment. The stark contrast between the desperate, vulnerable human element of Bell's clean singing and the cold, almost automated yells, demonstrates the harrowing duality of the album's core concept. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the sound of humanity struggling for breath against an overwhelming, artificial perfection, and in many respects, a chilling premonition of what life, according to Demanufacture, has become. This vocal interplay isn't a weakness; it's a dynamic storytelling device, full of nuanced emotion that transcends simple melody. Furthermore, to label Demanufacture as a "harmful blueprint" that led metal "astray" is to fundamentally misunderstand its pioneering spirit. This album was not simply following trends; it was very much steadfast in the industrial metal blueprint, while expertly borrowing from the burgeoning groove metal scene that was popular at the time. That it didn't lead metal "astray" should be more of a testament to the importance of the record across the metal genre, rather than dismissing it as building "flimsy structures" going forwards. It's not Fear Factory's fault if other artists were inspired, influenced, or outright cribbed from them and produced second-rate imitations—much like it is unfair to blame The Beatles for a "flimsy structure" regarding the raft of British pop acts that followed them or an act like The Libertines being accused of laying a formula for what has been called these days as 'landfill indie.' True innovation, like that found on Demanufacture, always risks inspiring lesser imitations. This album's influence should be celebrated, not condemned, for opening new sonic pathways in heavy music. I rest my case, your honour(s) Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad What is your verdict on Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture? Share if you're for or against the album by leaving a comment down below, and catch Fear Factory when they peform at Bloodstock Open Air 2025 in August 2025.
Scotsman
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Scotsman
is it still a metal classic or has it aged like milk?
This article contains affiliate links. We may earn a small commission on items purchased through this article, but that does not affect our editorial judgement. Has Fear Factory's Demanufacture stood the test of time or, as the prosecution accuse, become a 'flimsy structure' for metal to follow? Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Fear Factory's 1995 album Demanufacture is widely considered a landmark in metal, but its legacy remains fiercely debated. Accusations range from being overly mechanistic and cold to lacking the warmth and organic feel of traditional metal Is it a pioneering work guilty of derailing a genre, or is it a misunderstood masterpiece deserving of a dramatic re-evaluation? Today, we convene in the solemn chambers of public opinion to preside over a musical case that, while critically lauded in its time, has since been subjected to scrutiny, mischaracterisation, and perhaps, a failure to fully grasp its true impact. On trial: Demanufacture by Fear Factory, a 1995 release that arrived with the force of a hydraulic press, forging a path between industrial coldness and metallic brutality. Often cited as a pioneering work, it has also faced criticisms of being too rigid, too mechanical, and even, by some, too influential in ways that led to less desirable offshoots. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence, however, believes there is compelling evidence for its enduring genius and rightful place as a monumental achievement in heavy music. Before we delve into today's proceedings, let us set the scene. Is Fear Factory's Demanufacture a work of art, or is it merely a work of 'calculated aggression?' | Getty Images/Canva In the mid-1990s, the landscape of heavy music was in flux. Metal, in its traditional forms, was still powerful, but new hybrids were emerging, challenging conventions and setting the stage for what would become one of the decade's most defining, and often divisive, sounds: nu-metal. It was into this fertile, yet volatile, ground that Fear Factory emerged. Formed in Los Angeles in 1989, Fear Factory quickly distinguished themselves from their peers. Comprised of vocalist Burton C. Bell, guitarist Dino Cazares, bassist Christian Olde Wolbers, and drummer Raymond Herrera, the band forged a unique sound that relentlessly fused industrial machine-like precision with death metal's aggression and groove metal's rhythmic drive. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad They built a reputation for pioneering a distinct rhythmic assault, often employing blast beats, double bass drumming, and heavily palm-muted guitar riffs that sounded more like percussive machinery than traditional shredding. Their lyrical themes, consistently exploring the uneasy relationship between man and machine, technology and humanity, carved out a distinct conceptual identity that resonated with a generation grappling with the digital age. It was in 1995 that Fear Factory released their second studio album, Demanufacture. Upon its arrival, it was heralded by many as a ground-breaking work, a bold leap forward that redefined the boundaries of extreme music. However, over the years, Demanufacture has become a subject of considerable controversy and debate. While praised for its innovation and brutal efficiency, it has also been accused of being cold, sterile, and overly mechanical, with critics questioning its emotional depth and whether its influential sound inadvertently paved the way for more simplistic and less organic forms of metal. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad To truly analyse its impact and legacy – and to confront these long-standing accusations – we are today putting Demanufacture on 'musical trial' in the court of public opinion. Let the proceedings begin. In defence of: Fear Factory - Demanufacture The Charge The album, Demanufacture by Fear Factory, stands accused of being a sterile, overly mechanistic, and emotionally cold blueprint for a wave of metal that prioritised rhythm and aggression over organic feel and nuanced musicianship, ultimately contributing to a perceived dehumanisation of the genre. The Prosecution Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are presented today with an album that, on the surface, might appear to be a marvel of precision and force. Indeed, upon its release, Demanufacture was met with considerable acclaim. But I submit to you that this very precision, this relentless, machine-gun rhythm, this calculated coldness, is precisely its greatest sin. The evidence will demonstrate that Demanufacture, for all its apparent innovation, presented a stark, almost unfeeling vision of metal. The drumming, while undeniably fast, often felt more like a programmed beat than the fluid expression of a human hand. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As one reviewer noted regarding drummer Raymond Herrera's work, it's "precision machine gun fire drum work," often raising questions of "whether his drum work is not redone to some extent with studio magic, because it is totally mind blowing, despite the fact that he rarely touches his cymbals." This "machine-like" quality, while impressive, sacrifices the organic warmth of human performance. The guitar riffs, precise and percussive, largely eschewed the melodic complexity and dynamic range that defined earlier eras of metal, reducing the instrument to a rhythmic hammer. Critics have pointed out that Demanufacture "doesn't try to wow you with high-pitched vocals or blazing guitar solos as this album features absolutely none of that." This minimalist approach to traditional metal elements, while a deliberate choice, stripped away much of the expressive freedom cherished by purists. Even the vocals, while shifting between guttural roars and clean, almost ethereal melodies, often contributed to an unsettling dichotomy rather than a cohesive emotional landscape, with some finding the clean vocals "somewhat off key" at times Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad We contend that this album, by "prioritising mechanisation over human elements" [paraphrased from general criticism], laid the groundwork for a future where metal became less about fiery passion and more about calculated aggression, paving the way for bands that would imitate its mechanical precision without capturing its conceptual ambition. It streamlined, it systematised, it... de-manufactured the very soul of heavy music, leading to a sound that, "while powerful, often sounded very lifeless when compared to their later work" and "very compressed by today's standards." It set a precedent for a sound that, in less capable hands, often became predictable, repetitive, and ultimately, devoid of the human element. The defence may speak of innovation, but we will show you an album that, despite its power, ultimately sacrificed warmth and humanity for the cold, unyielding embrace of the machine. This album, we contend, is guilty of establishing a blueprint that, while powerful, often led metal astray. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The defence Members of the court of public opinion, I appreciate the arguments that the Prosecution has levied against the album, but I remind them of the state of metal at the time. This was in 1995, where the metal genre was just on the cusp of breaking into mainstream avenues through acts such as Korn, Limp Bizkit, and in later years, Linkin Park. Where some groups might have changed their formula to reflect the change in trends, I argue that Fear Factory "evolved" their sound not simply to be accessible for newer fans of the genre, but to ensure they did not alienate older fans of their industrial style. Demanufacture indeed sounds emotionally cold and lacks organic warmth; but that is precisely the point of the album. It's a meticulously crafted concept album about a man's struggles against a machine-controlled government, with each song a chapter in his life. As the band themselves stated, the album took its inspiration from the movie The Terminator, and within that context, the 'stark, unfeeling' nature of the album and lack of organic warmth is not a flaw, but a deliberate and essential artistic choice. This is an album that is meant to evoke emotions of technology taking over organic matter, and thus had to prioritise mechanisation over human elements. Not just that, but the very nature of industrial metal lends itself to having a cold, mechanical resonance to it, and I point to the likes of Nine Inch Nails or Godflesh as previous evidence of this aesthetic being central to the genre. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The charges of being lifeless and compressed, giving it a powerful, suffocating feel, are exactly the kind of emotions Fear Factory looked to evoke with the work. Again, members of the court, this is a concept album about technology taking over. The relentless, percussive guitaring perfectly compliments the blunt force nature of the drumming, giving listeners such as myself vivid images of mechanical presses, whirling machinery, and cold, metallic elements as part of the story's chilling narrative. This wasn't a flaw; it was a masterful sonic design choice that immersed the listener in the album's dystopian vision. As for the charge against Burton C. Bell's vocals, his performance perfectly embodies the album's themes of man versus machine. What the Prosecution labels as "off-key" is, I submit, an unfair and superficial judgment. The stark contrast between the desperate, vulnerable human element of Bell's clean singing and the cold, almost automated yells, demonstrates the harrowing duality of the album's core concept. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's the sound of humanity struggling for breath against an overwhelming, artificial perfection, and in many respects, a chilling premonition of what life, according to Demanufacture, has become. This vocal interplay isn't a weakness; it's a dynamic storytelling device, full of nuanced emotion that transcends simple melody. Furthermore, to label Demanufacture as a "harmful blueprint" that led metal "astray" is to fundamentally misunderstand its pioneering spirit. This album was not simply following trends; it was very much steadfast in the industrial metal blueprint, while expertly borrowing from the burgeoning groove metal scene that was popular at the time. That it didn't lead metal "astray" should be more of a testament to the importance of the record across the metal genre, rather than dismissing it as building "flimsy structures" going forwards. It's not Fear Factory's fault if other artists were inspired, influenced, or outright cribbed from them and produced second-rate imitations—much like it is unfair to blame The Beatles for a "flimsy structure" regarding the raft of British pop acts that followed them or an act like The Libertines being accused of laying a formula for what has been called these days as 'landfill indie.' True innovation, like that found on Demanufacture, always risks inspiring lesser imitations. This album's influence should be celebrated, not condemned, for opening new sonic pathways in heavy music. I rest my case, your honour(s) Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad
The Advertiser
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
'Just so surreal': the moment this Aussie was asked to tour with Ozzy
"Do you want to go on tour with Ozzy Osbourne?" It is a phone call Chris Rand is still shocked he received, even though it happened 27 years ago. Back then, in 1998, the singer and bass player for metal band Segression was busy working as a tattoo artist in Wollongong, and his wife Karen was heavily pregnant with the couple's first child. But, one phone call from Ozzy's wife and manager Sharon Osbourne changed everything. "We had a tattoo shop in Corrimal at the time, and the phone rang, and it was actually Sharon Osbourne, wanting to speak to my mum because my mum managed the band," Chris recalls. "I was personally invited from Sharon and Ozzy." Segression had already toured with US metal bands Machine Head and Fear Factory, and those bands, who were friends with Ozzy, recommended Segression to him as a support act. But, with Karen pregnant, Chris worried he'd miss the birth of his first child. So, after much discussion, she was induced and had baby Kiara five days before the tour started. Chris is among a legion of fans and music industry insiders who are reeling after the death of Ozzy Osbourne on July 23 following a battle with Parkinson's disease. It was just weeks after the 76-year-old performed with metal pioneers Black Sabbath for the last time at a star-studded charity benefit show titled Back to the Beginning in the United Kingdom. "I've got shivers, I've got tears, I've got everything this morning. He was probably one of the nicest people I've ever met," Chris said through tears. "I'm devastated, absolutely devastated. I've never really felt much with a celebrity death before, but because of the personal connection that I had with him ... because I toured with him and met him and knew him as a person briefly, it really hit hard, to be honest." At Segression's first gig on that tour back in 1998, the pressure on them was enormous as they hit the stage before Ozzy, who was known as the Prince of Darkness. People have "paid a lot of money to go and see Ozzy Osbourne" and back then crowds were well known to "give a little bit of curry" to support bands. "I walked out on stage and it was, I wouldn't say completely hostile, but it was certainly not warm," Chris remembers. "I walked up to the microphone and before the band started, I got them to light up the crowd and I said, 'I know that everyone's here to see Ozzy, but we're a young Australian band that's been given an opportunity, so we think it's appropriate to start our set showing Ozzy Osboune what Australia is like. So, Aussie Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi,' and then we're into it. "The crowd, they turned completely on its head, and we had an amazing tour ... it was just so surreal." During another moment on tour, Ozzy was chatting to one of Segression's roadies who had a "full body suit of tattoos". "Ozzy was just so fascinated. He said, 'Can I see you without your shirt on again?'. He took his shirt off and he said, 'it's like a road map to your life'," Chris said. "And then, funnily enough, just after that tour, Ozzy went back home and got his arms tattooed, full sleeves." The tour and getting to meet Ozzy were so significant in Chris' life that he still holds dear the backstage pass he wore each night during the tour. "My Dad [Dave] was a massive Black Sabbath fan, so it's like one of my life's proudest moments when I got to introduce my dad [to Ozzy]," Chris said of a moment on that tour. "My dad's quiet at the best of times, so he just sort of walked up and shook hands, and that was about it. They just stared at each other." He recalls everyone was starstruck around Ozzy at that time, it was the height of the Osbourne's reality television show, The Osbournes, and Ozzy was a massive star thanks to his Black Sabbath days and then successful solo career. Ozzy's reputation is huge - he was the lead singer of Black Sabbath until he was kicked out in 1979 after a long run of erratic drink and drug-fuelled behaviour, and when he bit the head off a bat onstage, he made rock history. But, underneath all the bravado, the rumour and the reality TV show, Chris simply remembers Ozzy as just being a good bloke. "When you got to be in his presence, you just felt like you were the only one there. He just had that magic about himself," he said. "He's done so many things that he's notorious for, but the person that I met was just funny and warm. "He's probably the biggest rock star on the planet, and I don't think he ever thought of it that way. He just liked playing music and enjoying himself. I don't think he was dwelling on his success at all." "Do you want to go on tour with Ozzy Osbourne?" It is a phone call Chris Rand is still shocked he received, even though it happened 27 years ago. Back then, in 1998, the singer and bass player for metal band Segression was busy working as a tattoo artist in Wollongong, and his wife Karen was heavily pregnant with the couple's first child. But, one phone call from Ozzy's wife and manager Sharon Osbourne changed everything. "We had a tattoo shop in Corrimal at the time, and the phone rang, and it was actually Sharon Osbourne, wanting to speak to my mum because my mum managed the band," Chris recalls. "I was personally invited from Sharon and Ozzy." Segression had already toured with US metal bands Machine Head and Fear Factory, and those bands, who were friends with Ozzy, recommended Segression to him as a support act. But, with Karen pregnant, Chris worried he'd miss the birth of his first child. So, after much discussion, she was induced and had baby Kiara five days before the tour started. Chris is among a legion of fans and music industry insiders who are reeling after the death of Ozzy Osbourne on July 23 following a battle with Parkinson's disease. It was just weeks after the 76-year-old performed with metal pioneers Black Sabbath for the last time at a star-studded charity benefit show titled Back to the Beginning in the United Kingdom. "I've got shivers, I've got tears, I've got everything this morning. He was probably one of the nicest people I've ever met," Chris said through tears. "I'm devastated, absolutely devastated. I've never really felt much with a celebrity death before, but because of the personal connection that I had with him ... because I toured with him and met him and knew him as a person briefly, it really hit hard, to be honest." At Segression's first gig on that tour back in 1998, the pressure on them was enormous as they hit the stage before Ozzy, who was known as the Prince of Darkness. People have "paid a lot of money to go and see Ozzy Osbourne" and back then crowds were well known to "give a little bit of curry" to support bands. "I walked out on stage and it was, I wouldn't say completely hostile, but it was certainly not warm," Chris remembers. "I walked up to the microphone and before the band started, I got them to light up the crowd and I said, 'I know that everyone's here to see Ozzy, but we're a young Australian band that's been given an opportunity, so we think it's appropriate to start our set showing Ozzy Osboune what Australia is like. So, Aussie Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi,' and then we're into it. "The crowd, they turned completely on its head, and we had an amazing tour ... it was just so surreal." During another moment on tour, Ozzy was chatting to one of Segression's roadies who had a "full body suit of tattoos". "Ozzy was just so fascinated. He said, 'Can I see you without your shirt on again?'. He took his shirt off and he said, 'it's like a road map to your life'," Chris said. "And then, funnily enough, just after that tour, Ozzy went back home and got his arms tattooed, full sleeves." The tour and getting to meet Ozzy were so significant in Chris' life that he still holds dear the backstage pass he wore each night during the tour. "My Dad [Dave] was a massive Black Sabbath fan, so it's like one of my life's proudest moments when I got to introduce my dad [to Ozzy]," Chris said of a moment on that tour. "My dad's quiet at the best of times, so he just sort of walked up and shook hands, and that was about it. They just stared at each other." He recalls everyone was starstruck around Ozzy at that time, it was the height of the Osbourne's reality television show, The Osbournes, and Ozzy was a massive star thanks to his Black Sabbath days and then successful solo career. Ozzy's reputation is huge - he was the lead singer of Black Sabbath until he was kicked out in 1979 after a long run of erratic drink and drug-fuelled behaviour, and when he bit the head off a bat onstage, he made rock history. But, underneath all the bravado, the rumour and the reality TV show, Chris simply remembers Ozzy as just being a good bloke. "When you got to be in his presence, you just felt like you were the only one there. He just had that magic about himself," he said. "He's done so many things that he's notorious for, but the person that I met was just funny and warm. "He's probably the biggest rock star on the planet, and I don't think he ever thought of it that way. He just liked playing music and enjoying himself. I don't think he was dwelling on his success at all." "Do you want to go on tour with Ozzy Osbourne?" It is a phone call Chris Rand is still shocked he received, even though it happened 27 years ago. Back then, in 1998, the singer and bass player for metal band Segression was busy working as a tattoo artist in Wollongong, and his wife Karen was heavily pregnant with the couple's first child. But, one phone call from Ozzy's wife and manager Sharon Osbourne changed everything. "We had a tattoo shop in Corrimal at the time, and the phone rang, and it was actually Sharon Osbourne, wanting to speak to my mum because my mum managed the band," Chris recalls. "I was personally invited from Sharon and Ozzy." Segression had already toured with US metal bands Machine Head and Fear Factory, and those bands, who were friends with Ozzy, recommended Segression to him as a support act. But, with Karen pregnant, Chris worried he'd miss the birth of his first child. So, after much discussion, she was induced and had baby Kiara five days before the tour started. Chris is among a legion of fans and music industry insiders who are reeling after the death of Ozzy Osbourne on July 23 following a battle with Parkinson's disease. It was just weeks after the 76-year-old performed with metal pioneers Black Sabbath for the last time at a star-studded charity benefit show titled Back to the Beginning in the United Kingdom. "I've got shivers, I've got tears, I've got everything this morning. He was probably one of the nicest people I've ever met," Chris said through tears. "I'm devastated, absolutely devastated. I've never really felt much with a celebrity death before, but because of the personal connection that I had with him ... because I toured with him and met him and knew him as a person briefly, it really hit hard, to be honest." At Segression's first gig on that tour back in 1998, the pressure on them was enormous as they hit the stage before Ozzy, who was known as the Prince of Darkness. People have "paid a lot of money to go and see Ozzy Osbourne" and back then crowds were well known to "give a little bit of curry" to support bands. "I walked out on stage and it was, I wouldn't say completely hostile, but it was certainly not warm," Chris remembers. "I walked up to the microphone and before the band started, I got them to light up the crowd and I said, 'I know that everyone's here to see Ozzy, but we're a young Australian band that's been given an opportunity, so we think it's appropriate to start our set showing Ozzy Osboune what Australia is like. So, Aussie Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi,' and then we're into it. "The crowd, they turned completely on its head, and we had an amazing tour ... it was just so surreal." During another moment on tour, Ozzy was chatting to one of Segression's roadies who had a "full body suit of tattoos". "Ozzy was just so fascinated. He said, 'Can I see you without your shirt on again?'. He took his shirt off and he said, 'it's like a road map to your life'," Chris said. "And then, funnily enough, just after that tour, Ozzy went back home and got his arms tattooed, full sleeves." The tour and getting to meet Ozzy were so significant in Chris' life that he still holds dear the backstage pass he wore each night during the tour. "My Dad [Dave] was a massive Black Sabbath fan, so it's like one of my life's proudest moments when I got to introduce my dad [to Ozzy]," Chris said of a moment on that tour. "My dad's quiet at the best of times, so he just sort of walked up and shook hands, and that was about it. They just stared at each other." He recalls everyone was starstruck around Ozzy at that time, it was the height of the Osbourne's reality television show, The Osbournes, and Ozzy was a massive star thanks to his Black Sabbath days and then successful solo career. Ozzy's reputation is huge - he was the lead singer of Black Sabbath until he was kicked out in 1979 after a long run of erratic drink and drug-fuelled behaviour, and when he bit the head off a bat onstage, he made rock history. But, underneath all the bravado, the rumour and the reality TV show, Chris simply remembers Ozzy as just being a good bloke. "When you got to be in his presence, you just felt like you were the only one there. He just had that magic about himself," he said. "He's done so many things that he's notorious for, but the person that I met was just funny and warm. "He's probably the biggest rock star on the planet, and I don't think he ever thought of it that way. He just liked playing music and enjoying himself. I don't think he was dwelling on his success at all." "Do you want to go on tour with Ozzy Osbourne?" It is a phone call Chris Rand is still shocked he received, even though it happened 27 years ago. Back then, in 1998, the singer and bass player for metal band Segression was busy working as a tattoo artist in Wollongong, and his wife Karen was heavily pregnant with the couple's first child. But, one phone call from Ozzy's wife and manager Sharon Osbourne changed everything. "We had a tattoo shop in Corrimal at the time, and the phone rang, and it was actually Sharon Osbourne, wanting to speak to my mum because my mum managed the band," Chris recalls. "I was personally invited from Sharon and Ozzy." Segression had already toured with US metal bands Machine Head and Fear Factory, and those bands, who were friends with Ozzy, recommended Segression to him as a support act. But, with Karen pregnant, Chris worried he'd miss the birth of his first child. So, after much discussion, she was induced and had baby Kiara five days before the tour started. Chris is among a legion of fans and music industry insiders who are reeling after the death of Ozzy Osbourne on July 23 following a battle with Parkinson's disease. It was just weeks after the 76-year-old performed with metal pioneers Black Sabbath for the last time at a star-studded charity benefit show titled Back to the Beginning in the United Kingdom. "I've got shivers, I've got tears, I've got everything this morning. He was probably one of the nicest people I've ever met," Chris said through tears. "I'm devastated, absolutely devastated. I've never really felt much with a celebrity death before, but because of the personal connection that I had with him ... because I toured with him and met him and knew him as a person briefly, it really hit hard, to be honest." At Segression's first gig on that tour back in 1998, the pressure on them was enormous as they hit the stage before Ozzy, who was known as the Prince of Darkness. People have "paid a lot of money to go and see Ozzy Osbourne" and back then crowds were well known to "give a little bit of curry" to support bands. "I walked out on stage and it was, I wouldn't say completely hostile, but it was certainly not warm," Chris remembers. "I walked up to the microphone and before the band started, I got them to light up the crowd and I said, 'I know that everyone's here to see Ozzy, but we're a young Australian band that's been given an opportunity, so we think it's appropriate to start our set showing Ozzy Osboune what Australia is like. So, Aussie Aussie, Aussie, Oi, Oi, Oi,' and then we're into it. "The crowd, they turned completely on its head, and we had an amazing tour ... it was just so surreal." During another moment on tour, Ozzy was chatting to one of Segression's roadies who had a "full body suit of tattoos". "Ozzy was just so fascinated. He said, 'Can I see you without your shirt on again?'. He took his shirt off and he said, 'it's like a road map to your life'," Chris said. "And then, funnily enough, just after that tour, Ozzy went back home and got his arms tattooed, full sleeves." The tour and getting to meet Ozzy were so significant in Chris' life that he still holds dear the backstage pass he wore each night during the tour. "My Dad [Dave] was a massive Black Sabbath fan, so it's like one of my life's proudest moments when I got to introduce my dad [to Ozzy]," Chris said of a moment on that tour. "My dad's quiet at the best of times, so he just sort of walked up and shook hands, and that was about it. They just stared at each other." He recalls everyone was starstruck around Ozzy at that time, it was the height of the Osbourne's reality television show, The Osbournes, and Ozzy was a massive star thanks to his Black Sabbath days and then successful solo career. Ozzy's reputation is huge - he was the lead singer of Black Sabbath until he was kicked out in 1979 after a long run of erratic drink and drug-fuelled behaviour, and when he bit the head off a bat onstage, he made rock history. But, underneath all the bravado, the rumour and the reality TV show, Chris simply remembers Ozzy as just being a good bloke. "When you got to be in his presence, you just felt like you were the only one there. He just had that magic about himself," he said. "He's done so many things that he's notorious for, but the person that I met was just funny and warm. "He's probably the biggest rock star on the planet, and I don't think he ever thought of it that way. He just liked playing music and enjoying himself. I don't think he was dwelling on his success at all."
Boston Globe
14-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Boston Globe
Five things to do around Boston, March 17-23
Friday Cringe Chronicles See Mortified Live at WBUR Boston. The show features people sharing real artifacts of their former teen angst — including rage-filled journal entries, poems, letters, song lyrics, schoolwork, and more. Celebrate (and cringe at) teen emotion as you get in touch with your childhood self. Show starts at 7 p.m. (doors open at 6 p.m.) at WBUR CitySpace. Find tickets — students, $10; general admission, $25 — at Advertisement Friday-Sunday Fear Factory Experience a modern interpretation of a classic H.G. Wells horror story in None Escape (The Island of Dr. Moreau) — written by former Globe Magazine advice columnist Robin Abrahams (a.k.a. Miss Conduct). The play, performed at Unity Somerville church, follows a woman stranded on an island with a scientist conducting inhumane experiments. With additional performances next week. Find times and tickets, $25 general admission, $20 seniors and students, at Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Saturday-Sunday Patchwork Past See 250 years of American history sewn together at Quilts 250: Stitching in the Spirit of Democracy, on display at Concord Academy. To commemorate the 250th anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the Concord 250 Celebrations Committee is showing over 200 quilts that touch on the founding and history of the United States. 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Free. Sunday Wool Works Browse through the best of New England's fiber arts at Boston Public Market FiberFest 2025. Buy yarn, cozy goods, and more from 20-plus fiber farmers and crafters. Or, learn to needle felt, indigo dye, and make your own headbands at a series of drop-in and ticketed interactive workshops. Runs from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Free admission, with items available for purchase. Adelaide Parker can be reached at
