One of the most infamous records of all-time. But even among fans of the group, it tends to get knocked down a peg or two, which is understandable – the album was quickly and cheaply recorded, there are next-to-no overdubs, the group is raw in a near-primal sense, driven home by the fact that Osbourne practically croaks his way through the entire experience. Given the general atmosphere of the era, Black Sabbath must have sounded like warmed-over death mixed with painfully awkward teenage angst to the average music listener’s ears – certainly not a good cure for what ails ya. It has a lot more in common with British blues music from the same time period than anything else – it’s just that the group decided to put their own spin on the genre, and then some. But, in its’ own rough-hewn, horribly mutated way, this is as good as any in the classic section of Black Sabbath albums. Certainly, it is the least mature of all of them, but the visceral imagery, the raw, unbridled emotion, and of course, the awkward growing pains – whether they realized they were forging a completely new direction, or just entered puberty – it’s all here, in spades.