Randy Rhoads. Zakk Wylde. Jake E. Lee. And…Night Ranger’s Brad Gillis

 

It’s Gillis that steps into the roughly barge-sized shoes of the virtuoso Rhoads on Speak of the Devil, and what’s worse, the June 1982 gig was only a mere three months after Rhoads’ death. And Gillis wasn’t even the first guy to fill the role! Osbourne first tapped Gillan’s Bernie Torme, who lasted about a month before Gillis stepped into the fold. Think about that for a moment. Nowadays bands go three to even five years between an album and nobody bats an eye. Back in the old days, Jack, you put out an album a year. Period. Even if you ignore the tremendous personal loss for Osbourne, Rhoads was such an integral part of the band and such a singular talent that it shows courage for Ozzy to not only get straight back onto the road but to also film performances for release, even in a time when industry norms were very different from today.

 

Speak of the Devil documents a band in the midst of profound transition. Even before Randy Rhoads’ death in that foolish plane crash, Ozzy had lost his rhythm section of Lee Kerslake and Bob Daisley. Aside from keyboardist Don Airey, Osbourne turned over his entire band and barely paused to take a breath. Reinforcements came in the form of Rudy Sarzo (reuniting with Quiet Riot partner Rhoads) and drummer Tommy Aldridge (Pat Travers Band, Black Oak Arkansas, and eventually, Whitesnake), and of course by the time Bark at the Moon was released the following year, Gillis and Sarzo had given way to Jake E. Lee and the returning Bob Daisley.

 

There’s no doubt that Aldridge and Sarzo were up to the task, but Brad Gillis is the focal point here. It doesn’t need to be said that he’s no Randy Rhoads, but the guy stepped in with very little prep time, and showed real talent by bulldogging his way through some often complex material. It does help that a lesser player can stick to the riffs and leave out at least some of Rhoads’ ever present, amazing fills. He does lose a little ground during his rather vanilla, whammy-heavy guitar solo, especially when followed by Tommy Aldridge’s hulking drum battery, including a bare-handed finale.

 

The set list is fantastic, of course. Note that, opposed to the audio release of Sabbath covers with the same name (which Ozzy dismisses outright), this film captures a full performance of the Diary of a Madman tour, showcasing gems from the first two classic albums along with versions of Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” “Children of the Grave,” and “Paranoid.” The Ozzman himself was energetic and engaging, and it’s great seeing him perform those songs during that early era. The real problem here is that his vocals are painfully overdubbed. It’s so noticeable that it detracts from the experience. The rest of the band is tight and proficient, even if Airey’s accompaniment occasionally becomes slightly obtrusive on songs normally keyboard-free. They’ve done their best to clean up the quality of the recording, but it is definitely a product of the technology of that era. Also, there are no bonus features of any kind. Mostly off-setting this list of negatives is the fact that Speak of the Devil is dirt cheap. (You should be able to find it for about twelve bucks.) It's clearly not required viewing, but Speak of the Devil documents a legend in the midst of major transition, and is good nostalgic fun. 

The set-list is/was:

 

“Over the Mountain”

 

“Mr. Crowley”

 

“Crazy Train”

 

“Revelation (Mother Earth)”

 

“Steal Away (The Night”

 

“Suicide Solution”

 

Guitar/Drum Solo

 

“Goodbye to Romance”

 

“I Don’t Know”

 

“Believer”

 

“Flying High Again”

 

“Iron Man”

 

“Children of the Grave”

 

“Paranoid”