In Memoriam: Ronnie James Dio (1942-2010)

May 16 marked the end of an era for heavy metal fans, as the legendary Ronnie James Dio, the dynamic frontman of Rainbow, post-Ozzy Black Sabbath, and his own band Dio, succumbed to stomach cancer. He was 67.

Immediately, tributes began coming in from all corners of the metal universe. As if any additional proof was needed, the speed of the response was a testimonial not only to the wide-ranging influence Dio had on metal over the last 30+ years, but more fundamentally, to the fact this this was a man loved and adored by everyone he encountered, and to countless others that he didn't. Always ready to speak to fans, Ronnie was by all accounts a true gentleman, one of the most down-to-earth men in rock. He will be sorely missed.



Metal critic Martin Popoff designated Dio (the band) one of the four pillars of power metal, along with Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and, interestingly enough, Dio-era Rainbow. RJD's double presence on this list is a testament to his vast influence on the genre. The singer was universally and justifiably renowned for his powerful voice - to this day, there's never been another one like it. But his lyrics may have been even more influential. There's a strong case to be made that it was Dio who first introduced fantasy-based lyrics into rock and metal. And once we get past Robert Plant's occasional references to Tolkien in a half-dozen Led Zeppelin anthems, it becomes more and more evident that Dio was THE pioneer in translating fantasy into the metal vernacular.

Initially through his collaboration with ex-Deep Purple axeman Ritchie Blackmore in Rainbow, then in a more gothic and gloomy vein for the seminal Sabbath albums Heaven and Hell (the title track may be the Sabs' best song, period) and The Mob Rules, and finally through his illustrious solo career, Dio specialized in fantastic, allegorical tales of good vs. evil, of overcoming the odds and slaying the dragon. It was a formula bound to meet with approval among the faithful metalhead legions, who tend to first embrace the music while grappling with involuntary celibacy during pimply, awkward adolescence. Indeed, throughout the 80s, Dio regularly battled the "Denzel the Dragon" stage prop night after night on stage, eventually subduing the monster with his sword. Quite simply, how much more metal can you get?

All of this may come off to the non-metal fan as cheesy and gratuitous nonsense, the kind of over-the-top stagecraft lampooned so memorably in This Is Spinal Tap. But herein lies the difference between those who like metal, and those who don't. To the adoring throngs who watched the diminutive Dio slay the dragon every night, it wasn't cheesy. And even if it was, that was beside the point. It was fun. It was entertaining. And it served as an appropriately larger-than-life visual metaphor for the appeal of metal itself: of taking the darker side of life, whatever demons may be torturing you, and ridding yourself of it in a triumphant catharsis. For anyone who has ever felt powerless, metal offers an emotional escape, however temporary. The music itself exudes power, but there is also the power in numbers: the knowledge that somewhere out there is a collective force (clad in black t-shirts) millions strong, made up of people just like you: those who feel like outsiders, united in their love of a musical genre which - two decades after pop-metal, power ballads and MTV temporarily made metal commercial - remains resolutely alien to the mainstream.

I don't know if people outside this subculture will thus be able to grasp the magnitude of our current loss. Ronnie James Dio embodied the spirit of heavy metal. It was he who first popularized the "devil's horns", now the universal hand gesture of metalheads everywhere. He played with some of the genre's most iconic players, such as Ritchie Blackmore, and brought out the best they had to offer. He replaced Ozzy Osbourne in Black Sabbath - perhaps the single most influential band in metal, and one of the most iconic frontman - and firmly put his own stamp on the band with their best album. And when he continued with his own band, he made a succession of influential and massive-selling albums all distinguished by his raw vocal power.

At this point, I can't even remember if I ever previously knew whether Dio had stomach cancer. I may have heard about it one point, but if I did, I obviously wasn't too worried about it. My first reaction would be that no mere disease could fell this metal god, that Ronnie would beat cancer and keep rocking well into his 70s or 80s. When I first heard of his death, I was in shock. Michael Jackson may have meant a lot to everyone - including me - but somehow, the death of Ronnie James Dio feels more personal. Dio was not a musician well-known or loved by the mainstream, which tends to fixate on the most bizarre and trivial aspects of celebrity culture. Rather, he was ours. He belonged to all metalheads. He was one of us. Now he's gone, the true man on the silver mountain.

There are so many classic songs Dio sang on, it's hard to pick any clear favourites. "Stargazer" and "Man on the Silver Mountain" from the Rainbow period, and of course his work with Sabbath - "Heaven and Hell", "Neon Knights", "Children of the Sea", and "Die Young" are all amazing songs. "Rainbow in the Dark" and "Holy Diver" are the legendary tracks from Dio's 1983 debut, and the former may be my favourite Dio song. It's certainly the catchiest. "Don't Talk to Strangers", of course, is the epic:



The lyrics, like so many of Dio's, are somewhat opaque, but sound awesome and can be interpreted as a commentary on whatever personal demons the listener is battling. Hearing Dio sing the opening lyrics, we find him at his most delicate, addressing in his allegorical way the vulnerability that exists at the core of metal (and metalheads') tough and aggressive exterior:

Don't talk to strangers, 'cause they're only there to do you harm
Don't write in starlight, 'cause the words may come out real
Don't hide in doorways, you may find the key that opens up your soul
Don't go to heaven, 'cause it's really only hell
Don't smell the flowers, they're an evil drug to make you lose your mind
Don't dream of women, 'cause they'll only bring you down

...and with that last word, Dio's soft narration becomes a mighty roar of defiance, joined by the crashing thunder of electric guitar, bass and drums. We are now in prime metal territory, and from here on, his voice sears with a seething aggression, the equal and opposite reaction to the intro's delicacy. He continues:

Hey you
You know me, you've touched me, I'm real
I'm forever the one that lets you look and see and feel me
I'm danger, I'm the stranger
And I, I'm darkness, I'm anger, I'm pain
I, I'm master, the evil song you sing inside your brain drives you insane

Some words of caution:

Don't talk
Don't let them inside your mind, yeah

And the need to escape:

Run away, run away, go

Vivien Campbell takes Ronnie's advice and goes for the guitar solo. The climax of any metal song, the solo is the release for all the tension that's been building up to this point. Ronnie offers one last nugget of wisdom as a means of defeating all those that would oppress one's individual conscience:

No no
Don't let them in your mind or catch your soul

Like a lot of metal, much of the song's appeal is about how you say something rather than what is being said - and when we're talking about a voice like Ronnie James Dio's, that's all the more true. Yet the lyrics, vague as they might seem, always have a certain mystique and particularly evocative imagery. "Don't write in starlight"...I just love the way that sounds.

Ronnie James Dio may have passed on, but his legacy is a reflection of how great art immortalizes the artist. Although the man is no longer with us, we can hear him whenever we like, just by listening to his music. Dio's powerful themes are universal, reflected in great literature throughout the ages. As Martin Popoff wrote, summing up his lyrical appeal: "through the man's demons and wizards imagery and his passionate parables for the downtrodden and outcast, Ronnie is now seen as a sort of metal sage, champion of hope, poet of the punters, a classic and classical rock Merlin."

Yet the last word must go to Dio himself. He may have been silenced on earth, but his voice has been preserved for all eternity. I'm going to end with "The Last in Line", the title track from Dio's second album and a song that I think embodies not only his approach to lyrics, but his overall warmth, humanity and affinity with the oppressed. You probably won't be able to watch the video without laughing, but maybe that's the point: Dio, like much of traditional metal, was always about entertainment. It may have sometimes addressed serious issues, but it didn't take itself too seriously, and personally, I could use a bit of that humour right now. The legend explains:

I write songs for people, how people feel about being lonely, for being pecked at for not being the greatest physical specimens on earth; things like that just happen. So this one for me describes people who persevere through all the stones and slings and arrows that are tossed at them. The last in line, that's usually where people like that are placed, the end of the line. But to me, just because you're at the end of the line doesn't mean that you can't succeed. And I usually find that the people who are willing to stay there at the end of the line will succeed.

Rest in peace, Ronnie. \,,/



UPDATE: A few other thoughts have come to mind in the past day of mourning. As I read the CNN story on messages of condolence to Ronnie's family, I listened to "Man on the Silver Mountain" and was blown away by its power all over again. The song is Dio's calling card, the first track on the first Rainbow album, which largely introduced his distinctive sonic signature to the world. Whether performed by Rainbow or the band Dio, its simple, pounding riff, matched with Ronnie's fantasy lyrics, is a perfect song to mourn to, mainly because it'll instantly pull you out of your sadness with its pulse-pounding, hair-raising, headbanging awesomeness, again reminding us of the empowering qualities inherent in Dio's music.



Secondly, last night I finally got around to listening to Heaven and Hell's 2009 album. If you want a more depressing, gloomy affair than the usual Dio, it's right up your alley. This is the doomiest Black Sabbath or Dio has sounded in ages, and for that you have to give them credit for doing something as anti-commercial as possible. Plus, just look at that cover! 'Nuff said.


Finally, yesterday I stumbled across an intensely fascinating analysis by composer Andy DiGelsomina on the Wagnerian and existential aspects of Rainbow's 1976 classic "Stargazer". I've heard that song a million times, but never got it to the extent that I did after reading this piece. Not just another wizard rock epic, Dio's lyrics can actually be interpreted as a metaphor for religious belief itself. Heavy.