Ronnie James Dio
Back in the dawn of antiquity more commonly referred to as the 1970s, I had a semi-functional clock radio. Semi-functional in that the clock no longer worked, but the radio and alarm still did their job. The former was a lifeline; the latter not so much although it beat Mom yelling at me to get ready for school by a mile.
The radio was a hand-me-down from elder siblings; a funky square rectangle with a rotary dial on its face and tubes inside. It had a penchant for fritzing out at fairly regular intervals, making an obnoxious screeching noise rectified solely by a firm slap on top of the case. Alas, one day I slapped too hard and broke it. But before then, it was my constant companion as I lay in bed, listening to music and later on adding assorted radio preachers to the mix. But mostly music.
This was back when AM radio still held sway and FM was strictly for audiophiles and hippies. The Top 40 stations scattered across AM were far more adventuresome than today’s rigid sound-alike monotonous boredom zones. Or perhaps the music itself was more adventuresome. In either case, it was common to hear assorted pop drek immediately followed by a folk tune, followed by a tasty slice of Philly soul and then some progressive rock.
And every once in a while, some glorious heavy metal.
This was long before the spandex and mousse poseurs of the ’80s. Back then it was all about the music; the songs, the sound, the riffs and rhythms that for those who had ears to hear was the voice of God. Or reasonable equivalent thereof. Of course your parents hated it. Of course the girls on their perpetual sugary bubblegum high who couldn’t wait for the next time “Tie A Yellow Ribbon ‘Round The Old Oak Tree” came around on the station’s payola… er, rotation list wrinkled their noses with disgust whenever you waxed poetic about the majesty and utter superiority of “Smoke On The Water” or “Radar Love” or whatever. Actually, they were wrinkling their nose at you. But it was okay. Who needed ‘em? You had Black Sabbath records! Bad to the bone long before George Thorogood, you were.
I and my fellow dark lord rockers could name the members of our favorite bands with as much ease as we could rattle off the starting lineups of all local sports teams. Membership change? New band with old members? We were all over it. Thus, we were all atwitter (long before Twitter, I might add) when in 1975 Deep Purple’s guitarist Ritchie Blackmore started a new band named Rainbow. The singer? One Ronnie James Dio.
Given Blackmore’s status as a guitar hero of the first order, whoever was singing with him was generally considered secondary. The moment Dio launched into “Man On The Silver Mountain” from that first Rainbow album, you could forget that notion. Dio had a simply amazing voice, packed with power and command. You never heard him strain to reach any note, no matter how high. Instead, what you heard was what a heavy metal singer was supposed to sound like.
Blackmore being Blackmore, i.e. pretty much impossible to work with for any length of time, Dio quit Rainbow in 1979 after recording four albums with the band, three studio and one live. His next full-time gig was in Black Sabbath as Ozzy Osbourne’s replacement following his having been fired for excessive drinking. Hard to believe, I know; but there it was. Dio brought life to the godfathers of sludge, recording two studio and one live album with Sabbath before departing to launch a solo career that swiftly placed him in the upper echelon of the ’80s metal movement. Too old and short to be a pretty boy, Dio instead relied on muscular riffs along with his voice. And oh yes, lyrics firmly rooted in sword, sorcery and the darker side of fantasy. Dio was dungeons and dragons at full volume.
It’s odd that a man who in his personal life, at least as much as he publicly commented on, politely rejected Christianity would provide the vocals for a couple of songs on Kansas mainstay Kerry Livgren’s first solo record Seeds Of Change which to this day remains a staple in every Christian rocker’s library. Nevertheless, there he was, making “To Live For The King” and especially “Mask Of The Great Deceiver” songs that have challenged and blessed countless numbers over the years.
Dio passed away this past Sunday morning from stomach cancer.
Kerry Livgren and Ronnie James Dio
It’s odd in our pop culture-obsessed society how quickly those who once occupied its spotlight, but have since moved on, are forgotten by all save the faithful few. Dio’s death generated a few news stories here and there, but nothing major. Livgren’s own trials — he suffered a stroke last year from which he’s still recovering, his mom passed away recently, and this past Sunday while he and his wife were at church his house was broken into with the perpetrator(s) making off with $40K worth of stuff including his gun collection — are known to almost no one outside his immediate circle of fans on Facebook. It’s disrespectful, really.
So let’s not join in.
A theme woven throughout Scripture is that God alone knows our hearts. He knows who belongs to Him and who doesn’t. When thinking about Dio, we would be wise to remember this. We don’t know where he is in terms of eternity. We do know that through His crucifixion and resurrection Christ provided a way for him to spend eternity with Him. I’m inclined to let God be God and leave it at that.
For myself?
Memories of that amazing voice, even when filtered through a semi-functional clock radio. And the joy it brought.
Music is God’s language. Even heavy metal. For it, and those who have brought it to us on this planet, I am always thankful.
God bless you, Ronnie James Dio.
(Cross-posted at Liberty Pundits.)
