When the opening notes of “War Pigs” thundered through the Wells Fargo Center on that August night in 2013, the air felt thick with history. For nearly five decades, Black Sabbath had stood as the cornerstone of heavy metal — the band that birthed an entire genre from the dark corners of Birmingham, England. And yet, in Philadelphia that night, it didn’t feel like a farewell. It felt like a resurrection.
This was part of The End Is Near era — the triumphant reunion that brought Ozzy Osbourne, Tony Iommi, and Geezer Butler back together for the first time in years, joined by drummer Tommy Clufetos, who admirably filled the void left by Bill Ward’s absence. For a sold-out crowd of diehards, many of whom had grown up on Sabbath’s riffs like gospel, this was as close to time travel as rock could offer.
The house lights dimmed, and a deep red glow washed over the stage. As Tony Iommi struck the first ominous chords of “War Pigs,” the roar that erupted from the audience was deafening. Ozzy appeared in his signature black outfit, arms stretched wide like a dark preacher welcoming his congregation. The crowd sang every word back at him — “Generals gathered in their masses…” — and for a few minutes, the Wells Fargo Center transformed into one massive, synchronized headbang. Iommi’s guitar tone was monstrous, all crunch and menace, and Geezer’s bass rumbled through the floor like a seismic wave.
From there, the band wasted no time diving into “Into the Void.” The groove was thunderous, the tempo steady and relentless. It’s a song that perfectly showcases Iommi’s genius — those riff changes, those doom-laden breakdowns — and he played with a precision that was downright frightening. Watching him command the fretboard while dealing with cancer at the time was nothing short of inspiring. The man didn’t just play the riffs; he invented them.
The first real deep cut of the night came early with “Under the Sun/Every Day Comes and Goes.” Ozzy prowled the stage, clapping his hands, shouting “Come on!” like a heavy metal cheerleader, and the audience obliged. There’s something strangely endearing about Ozzy’s presence — half demonic frontman, half mischievous kid. His voice wasn’t perfect, but it was pure Ozzy: raw, unfiltered, and unmistakable.
Then came “Snowblind,” and the arena practically melted. The slow, shimmering intro gave way to that massive riff, and Ozzy’s vocals — “My eyes are blind, but I can see…” — rang out with weary power. This song has always been a love letter to excess, but live in 2013 it felt almost reflective, as if the band were acknowledging their past indulgences with a grin. Iommi’s solo soared, bending notes that seemed to hang in the rafters, while Geezer’s bass filled every corner of the building.
The newer material from 13 made its first appearance with “Age of Reason.” The audience reaction was warm, almost reverent. The song itself felt like a spiritual sequel to Sabbath’s classic sound — dark, sprawling, and apocalyptic. Iommi’s riffs were colossal, the kind that make you remember why Black Sabbath are the undisputed masters of doom. Ozzy’s voice carried surprising strength, nailing the chorus and feeding off the energy of the crowd.
And then the stage went dark. A slow tolling bell echoed through the arena. Everyone knew what was coming. When the first chilling notes of “Black Sabbath” began to crawl from Iommi’s guitar, you could feel the temperature drop. That song — their namesake, their origin — remains one of the most haunting pieces of music ever written. The ominous tritone riff, the lightning flashes onstage, Ozzy’s wide-eyed stare into the void — it was heavy metal theater in its purest form. You could practically hear 1970 roaring back to life.
“Behind the Wall of Sleep” and “N.I.B.” followed in quick succession, a one-two punch of early Sabbath brilliance. Geezer took the spotlight briefly with the bass intro “Bassically,” leading seamlessly into “N.I.B.” His fingers moved with fluid aggression, that signature fuzz tone shaking the venue. When Ozzy sang, “My name is Lucifer, please take my hand,” it felt like an invitation everyone was happy to accept. The audience was all in, chanting along, horns in the air, lost in the groove.
The modern-era Sabbath continued with “End of the Beginning,” one of the standout tracks from 13. It fit perfectly in the set — proof that the band could still summon that same doomy grandeur that defined their early work. The visuals behind them — slow-motion flames and shifting geometric patterns — added to the hypnotic effect.
Then came “Fairies Wear Boots,” and the energy surged. Ozzy was visibly feeding off the crowd, dancing and pointing to fans in the front row, shouting his trademark “I can’t hear you!” between verses. The groove was tight, the rhythm section locked in. Clufetos, for his part, was a powerhouse — precise, muscular, and completely in sync with the band’s vibe.
“Rat Salad” provided him his big moment. His extended drum solo was a full-blown assault — furious fills, double-kick flurries, and a stamina that had the audience roaring in appreciation. While some purists missed Bill Ward’s swing, there’s no denying Clufetos brought raw, modern power to the kit.
Then, as if to remind everyone who wrote the book on heavy riffs, Iommi struck the opening chords of “Iron Man.” The crowd lost it. Thousands of fists punched the air as Ozzy led the chorus. You could feel the entire building vibrating to the rhythm — one of those songs that transcends generations. Even fans who weren’t alive when it was written were screaming every word.
“God Is Dead?” — the lead single from 13 — followed and proved that Black Sabbath were far from a nostalgia act. The song’s sprawling structure and philosophical lyrics fit the band’s ethos perfectly. Live, it carried an even greater sense of foreboding. Ozzy’s repeated cry of “God is dead!” echoed like a sermon to the converted.
“Dirty Women” brought back a sleazier, bluesier groove. It was a surprise addition, but it hit hard. The song’s raunchy swagger and Tony’s fluid solos added variety to the set, and the crowd appreciated the deep cut.
As the main set neared its end, the unmistakable tribal beat of “Children of the Grave” erupted. It’s one of the band’s most explosive songs, and it felt like the culmination of everything that makes Sabbath immortal — rhythm, rebellion, and pure power. Ozzy was bouncing in place, shouting “Let me see your hands!” and the fans obeyed. The song ended in a flurry of smoke, lights, and applause so loud it felt like the roof might come off.
Of course, there was no doubt about the encore. After a brief break, the band returned to thunderous applause. The opening tease of “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” sent chills through the room — that riff, played just long enough to tease — before they dropped into “Paranoid.” The entire arena sang along. It was pure joy, pure catharsis. Ozzy’s grin was infectious, Tony’s solo was razor-sharp, and Geezer’s bassline galloped forward like a runaway train. When the song hit its final note, confetti exploded from above and the band stood center stage, arms raised, basking in the moment.
Setlist:
-
War Pigs
-
Into the Void
-
Under the Sun / Every Day Comes and Goes
-
Snowblind
-
Age of Reason
-
Black Sabbath
-
Behind the Wall of Sleep
-
N.I.B. (with “Bassically” intro)
-
End of the Beginning
-
Fairies Wear Boots
-
Rat Salad (with extended drum solo)
-
Iron Man
-
God Is Dead?
-
Dirty Women
-
Children of the Grave
Encore: -
Paranoid (with “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” intro)
The crowd lingered long after the last note, unwilling to let the moment end. This wasn’t just a concert — it was a celebration of legacy, survival, and sheer musical power. Iommi’s stoic brilliance, Geezer’s hypnotic bass, Ozzy’s manic energy — it all fused into something larger than life.
What made this night so powerful was how alive it all felt. There was no sense of going through the motions, no phoned-in nostalgia. Black Sabbath played with fire in their veins. Each riff felt monumental, every lyric carried weight. You could see it in the faces of fans who had been there since the beginning, and in the eyes of teenagers who were seeing their heroes for the first time.
Ozzy, ever the unlikely frontman, was in fine form — playful, earnest, and clearly thrilled to be back with his brothers. His charisma remains unmatched; he can raise his arms and command 20,000 people like a heavy metal preacher. Tony Iommi, quiet and immovable, was the anchor — his tone as bone-crushingly perfect as it’s ever been. And Geezer Butler? A wizard on bass, effortlessly weaving melody and menace together.
When the lights finally came up, fans spilled out into the humid Philadelphia night grinning like they’d just witnessed something holy. In many ways, they had.
For all the imitators that have come and gone, no one has ever captured the primal force of Black Sabbath. This show was proof that what began in a dingy rehearsal room in Birmingham half a century ago still burns with undying heat.
Black Sabbath didn’t just play heavy metal that night — they were heavy metal.
Grade: A