Below is an excerpt from the Bill Ward chapter in Joel Gausten’s upcoming book,
Albums that (Should’ve) Changed the World. Further info about Joel and his
books are below the interview.
Ward One: Along the Way
was Bill Ward’s first solo album after leaving Black Sabbath in 1984.
After nearly a decade of battling intense drug and alcohol problems
(and, at one point, homelessness), Ward returned with a stellar (and
seldom heard) album that featured guest appearances by Ozzy Osbourne,
Jack Bruce, Bob Daisley of Rainbow/Ozzy, Eric Singer of KISS and future
Thin Lizzy bassist Marco Mendoza. Without question, Ward One
remains one of the most musically varied albums ever released. This
chapter will include an in-depth discussion of Ward’s solo efforts as
well as his ongoing work with the reunited original Black Sabbath.
Additional topics will include Ward’s continual work with charities.
The chapter will also commentary from Eric Singer, Bob Daisley and
members of Ward’s current solo band.
The story
behind the creation of Ward One: Along the Way is perhaps one of
most striking narratives in music history. Ward, who escaped his humble
beginnings in Birmingham, England to achieve global fame in the 1970s as
the original drummer in Black Sabbath, found himself entering the 1980s
in a haze of mental illness, drug abuse and financial devastation. Upon
leaving Black Sabbath following the firing of singer (and best friend)
Ozzy Osbourne, Ward found himself panhandling on the streets of Long
Beach, California. Following a series of suicide attempts, Ward
committed himself to getting sober. Over the course of five years, he
overcame his tremendous personal obstacles while assembling an
extraordinary cast of musicians for his first solo album. Sadly, Ward
may never be seen (or heard) as anything more than the drummer in Black
Sabbath, and the music world at large has yet to embrace all that the
man has to offer.
Since the
release of Ward One, Ward has continued to release solo music and
perform with the reunited original lineup of Black Sabbath.
Additionally, Ward has donated the profits of his most recent solo
release (Straws) to various charities around the world, and
remains a strong public advocate for sober, spiritual living. Most
important, Ward is also a brutally honest interview subject, and this
chapter not only provides an intimate glimpse inside the life of a rock
legend, but also serves as a fantastic “from rags to riches…to rags and
riches again” story. This chapter provides the first-ever major
account of Bill Ward’s life and music outside the world of Black
Sabbath. What appears below is merely the tip of the iceberg.
Enjoy!
By 1986, you had started work on what eventually
became Ward One: Along The Way. Why did you decide to pursue a
strictly solo endeavor as opposed to jumping on board with another band?
I can only play drums with
one band. I’m still very much like that. I like to jam with other bands.
I’ve got no problem with that. I’d even like to cut records with other
bands, in the sense of like cutting a track, being a socialite drummer.
But I would never, ever consider joining a band as a drummer after being
in Black Sabbath. I had always been the drummer in Sabbath, and I had a
made a commitment to not be a part of Sabbath. That had come about by me
recognizing my truth, which, at the time, was that the Black Sabbath I
believed in was the original Black Sabbath. I failed miserably to be a
part of Heaven And Hell (with Ronnie James Dio) and to be a part
of Born Again with Ian Gillan, although I absolutely respect
those two men. I’m totally good friends with them both. I have nothing
but admiration and respect for both of them.
I felt uncomfortable in a non-original
lineup, so I had nowhere to go. I had to be true to myself, so the only
place I could go was, I tried to look at what I could do and see what I
could come up with as a songwriter, or even to find out if I was a
songwriter. I had to start a journey, which has now continued on up
until today, which has basically been able self-discovery, what I’m
capable of as a musician, can I make money out of it, or would other
people like this music too, or is this something I really want to be
doing. There’s all kinds of questions that come along with this, you
know?
So far, as a separate
musician under my own steam, I’ve spent a lot of money on my own music,
but I’ve made zero, pennies (laughs). But you know what? I don’t give a
fuck because it’s the only thing I know how to do. So I’m gonna have to
be doing this for the rest of my life, and if people buy my records,
that’s great. If they don’t, well, there’s nothing I can do about that.
I can’t not play music and become an accountant or something, or
wait for a Sabbath reunion before I can play drums. I have to do
something with my life.
How long did it take to record the album?
If I added up all the
days, probably six weeks of studio time over the period of maybe half of
a year. I’m just guessing on that one. Mixing took a lot longer. That
was because it was my first time mixing. What happened was, I had no
idea what a perfectionist I was. My perfectionism hadn’t revealed itself
too much in Sabbath because I managed to kill all my perfection. Well, I
knew that I was a perfectionist in Sabbath, but the booze and the
alcohol took the edge off the perfectionism. Being sober, I didn’t
realize I would run into this enormous brick wall called perfectionism.
I would throw out mixes, then we’d set up
another mix for days. I’d throw that out. You know, I have to thank the
men that were working with me at the time because they were so patient.
They were absolutely so fucking patient with me as I went through this
almost agonizing period of, ‘Is this right? Is this what I want.’
The album, even to today,
is not what I want. But then again, neither is Paranoid or
Black Sabbath, for that matter. They never will be. It’s just a
horrible character defect that I have that drives me crazy. I’ve come to
a place of peace with myself knowing that my perfectionist self with
never, ever be happy with anything that I do.
I enjoy it at the time. I
might enjoy it for five minutes. I might listen back to the take. Say,
for instance, we did ‘Bombers.’ We would listen to ‘Bombers,’ and just
for one second, when the perfectionist wasn’t there, I heard the song
and I went, ‘Yeah. Bam. We’ve got the song. That’s the song. We have
it.’ That’s how I would grasp it, in a quiet moment when my
perfectionist self was asleep. That’s when I knew that we had the song.
That’s how I basically got through the mixes. So mix time took awhile.
But again, I see that one of my biggest things is my perfectionism.
You had an extraordinary group of guest musicians
on Ward One. How did you determine who was going to perform on a
particular song? For example, did you write, say, “Tall Stories” with
Jack Bruce’s voice in mind?
Oh, absolutely, Yeah. I
wanted to do it as duo with me and Jack, and I could hear Jack singing
it. So I tried to write, lyrically, something that I hoped would appeal
to him, and a feel and a kind of a blues thing, which I hoped would have
definitely appealed to him. Jack, as you know, had been deeply affected
by blues music. So I wanted to make something that was attractive and
hope that he would like it. I felt that it was an incredible risk,
because I have so much admiration for Jack Bruce, for the work that he’s
done over the years, and for all the work that he did before Cream, with
Cream and after Cream. So I knew that I was working with a very, very,
very, very special person. Jack, I know, very much enjoyed the two songs
that he sang on, and he complimented me immensely on my writing skills,
which again bolstered that terrible self esteem that I had, when I felt
that I was pretty much washed up. I’m recovering from this person that
was living literally in the streets, panhandling. I’m coming from a
place of no home, no house, the loss of my family, everything’s gone, no
finances, no money whatsoever. So I’m coming from a place of absolute
poverty and wreckage, and then I’m trying to write something for Jack
Bruce (laughs). It’s a story, you know? So I was quite fearful. When I
saw Jack get into the songs, then I felt that we were definitely on our
way. Jack gave me a lot of validation. I sat down with Jack and I talked
to him for over a week. I just spent time with Jack, period. We talked
about everything. We talked about Cream. We talked about a lot of stuff.
It was just a wonderful, wonderful experience. Of course, I would love
to work with Jack in the future, if it ever came up. He’s just such a
great bass player and a wonderful singer, and he’s a very, very, very
nice man. He’s a great man. He’s a wonderful artist, so I’m very
privileged to have worked with him, and I tried to design something that
I thought would be well-fitting for him. And I love doing that. I love
to try to think about the artist, and I try to design something for the
artist. You see, I had never done that before. I’d never gone into that
space before. Basically, I wanted to see if I could make a tailor-made
suit for another artist. You know, ‘Could I write something for Ozzy?’
And I did. I wrote two great songs for Oz, and they fitted him
absolutely like a well-fitted suit. When Oz heard ‘Jack’s Land,’ he just
went fucking nuts, man. He loved it, He went over the top.
Interestingly, Eric Singer – one of the later
drummers in Black Sabbath – appeared on the album. What did you think of
his performance?
I think it’s beautiful. I
see Eric as one of the ‘kids.’ (laughs) Sometimes, when you’re talking
to some of the guys in the Sabs, you might hear us refer to ‘the
grandchildren’ or ‘the kids.’ To explain this, this is a very genuine,
genuine fondness that I have for these men. These are the guys that
played in Black Sabbath when Tony was holding the flag up and went
through all the different Black Sabbaths that he went through. So all
the people that have played, I nickname them ‘the kids.’ It’s like a
second generation. Our own children, if you like. I hope it doesn’t
embarrass those musicians. I say it in the fondest way, and that’s how I
looked at them. They were all exceptionally good players, great players.
Absolutely great rock players. They were all individually fantastic. I
think I’ve met every single one of them. Every single drummer, every
single bass player, every single person that’s ever been inside Black
Sabbath. Every guy, from Cozy all the way through. I have nothing but
admiration for these men, period. I sometimes fondly call them
‘Sabbath’s kids.’ You might see that around from time to time. It’s just
a little nickname.
I picked Eric because I
knew he could do the job. He came in, and he just fucking went BAM!
I love Eric. I’ve known him a long, long time. I’ve known Eric pretty
much since he was a kid.
Did you receive feedback from Tony and Geezer
once the album was released?
Not straight away. The
only comment that I heard from Tony was, I think, about a year later
when somebody asked what he thought of Ward One: Along The Way. I
think he said something like, ‘Typical Bill,’ which I thought was a very
strange comment to make because it wasn’t typical at all (laughs). I can
always remember that, he says ‘It sounds like typical Bill.’ I kinda
laughed when I read it. I thought, ‘You know, he’s probably never even
heard it. Somebody got him Johnny-on-the-spot there, so he had to say
something.’ It was not typical Bill at all (laughs). Typical Bill,
because I hadn’t seen Tony in awhile, typical Bill would have been
falling down drunk, trying to put something together, a mishap or
whatever. So this was not typical of me at all. This was a different
person altogether that was emerging, you know, that was starting to
recognize who he was. That’s why I love playing with Tony now, because
the drummer that I was years ago, I’m not the same guy (laughs). I’m so
keen on drumming, and I’m so keen to play with Tony, Geezer and Ozzy. I
just love playing with the fellas, and I’m just looking for so many
different, new things to do in drumming, and new ideas. I haven’t been
this keen since I was a teenager (laughs). And all this stuff has
evolved in the last ten years, by actually getting back together with
Tony and Geezer. I’ve come to life again. I died for a while as a
drummer, but by being around them, I just come to life. They electrify
me. It’s almost like Frankenstein becomes born again, you know? That’s
what they do to me. Those two guys, man, that’s what they bring out of
me, and I want to be a really good drummer for them. I want to be a
really good drummer for me and for them. I want to make music that
people will really, really like and enjoy. But, yeah, Tony made that
comment.
I think Geezer made a
comment sometime later, and his was far more favorable (laughs). Geezer
always responds, and he’s always gives me positive feedback with the
songs. He liked When The Bough Breaks as well. He liked ‘Children
Killing Children,’ and there were a couple of other songs on there that
he liked. Yeah, they get back to. They respond. There’s certain things
that they like.
What was your ultimate goal behind the “Straws” project?
The ultimate goal was to
bring awareness, just like everybody else is doing, to the fact that we
have to have a world order. We’re gonna have to get some peace. I know
that musicians hammer away at that constantly, and I’m certainly not
original by any means. I am merely a follower of values that I learned
in the 1960s and things that I learned as a child, when I would see my
father and his brothers crying their eyeballs out on a Saturday night
over the people and men that they lost during World War Two. Every
Saturday night, somebody would break down and start remembering somebody
who got blown to bits or fucking stabbed in the back or whatever it
might be. I will always, always, always speak out or make some kind of
political statement or make some kind of musical statement when it comes
to seeing young men and women dying, and innocent victims being blown
up, shot or otherwise. I will always be like that until the day I die.
I’m so proud of Black Sabbath for writing ‘War Pigs.’ It’s one of the
most endearing things one can do, when we get together for these
reunions that we do. To play ‘War Pigs,’ for me, is an honor.
‘Straws’ was yet another song about, ‘Hey,
let’s stop this shit one way or the other.’ I wrote ‘Straws’ at the time
that I really, really feared a retaliation, not knowing the kind of
weaponry that Iraq might have after a blistering assault on Iraq, which
I absolutely was so against. I could smell it coming, and I thought it
was the biggest pile of bullshit that I’ve seen happen in quite awhile,
as far as the manipulation of power. So I was very, very scared. I was
scared for my neighborhood. I was scared for my friends here on the west
coast. The safety of being here on the west coast, Iraq seems such a
long way away. I could see people just going about their lives quite
normally, and I’m going, ‘Am I fucking crazy right now? Am I the only
one that knows that weaponry can reach us?’ If they can reach the Twin
Towers, then surely they can fucking reach Long Beach Harbor or anywhere
else, you know? I didn’t know if the terrorists were connected to Iraq
or whatever it might be. I didn’t know if, at the time that Iraq was
attacked, that we might get some missiles flying over this way. I just
didn’t know because I didn’t understand the weaponry. So I feared that
we were going to get molested, so that’s how I responded. It was a
knee-jerk response song.
‘Where are all the defenses/Oh, I hope that
they’ve arrived,’ that was my little dig at the effort to try to protect
the United States of America, and hope that by seeing it on CNN, we
could all feel more secure, which I don’t. So that’s what “Straws’ was
about, and the only way that I could think of anything at all, was to
just bring ‘Straws’ out. We sent 1000 ‘Straws’ to different artists,
politicians, musicians, film stars, whatever all over the world. All
over the world we sent stuff. Then with another 1200, we tried to sell
them for fifty bucks each. I was trying to raise money for four or five
different charities, the first charity being the Veteran’s Wall in
Washington D.C. for the men and women who died in Vietnam, who lost
their lives there. Nobody’s actually employed to clean the wall. The
people that clean that wall are all volunteers, so you can send money to
them to help buy the cleaning fluids and pay them a little money for
their services or whatever it might be. So that’s one of the charities
that we support. It’s like, give back to those who fucking died, you
know? That’s what “Straws’ is about.
We sold quite a lot of
CDs. Interesting price. Man, people don’t pay fifty bucks for The
Best of Led Zeppelin, you know? But I though, ‘Fuck it,’ you know?
This ain’t Led Zeppelin. I just did a one-off thing. It will never be
done again. It’s like, ‘If there’s any Bill Ward fans, here’s a one-off
Bill Ward thing.’ I signed every single one of them, and that’s it. It
will never pass this way again. It’s something that people can have in
their archives and go, ‘Oh wow, I have one of these silly Bill Ward
Straws things from 30 years ago.’ In 30 years, maybe they’ll be worth
some money to whomever bought it. In the meantime, I’m looking for the
dough so I give it to other people, and I make no bones about it. I’m
not afraid to ask for money, plead for money, beg for money or whatever
it might be if I know it’s going to a great cause and it’s going to
benefit other people.
For more information on Bill Ward (or the
Straws project), please visit
www.billward.com.
The
complete version of this interview will appear in the book, Albums
that (Should've) Changed the World by Joel Gausten, available August
2007. Subscribe to the Blog or keep checking this page for updates.
Upcoming
excerpts/interviews on Joel Gausten’s official Myspace page,
www.myspace.com/gaustenbooks,
include: PRONG, KILLING JOKE, TSOL and more.
November
23, 2006