Tony's new interview for The Guardian

The Guardian just revealed a brand new interview with Tony by Dave Simpson. Enjoy!

Hi Tony! How are you?

I’m OK at the moment, dare I say it. It’s stage three lymphoma, so it could come back at any time. That’s one of the reasons why we’re stopping touring. It’s not the playing – it’s the long flights and arriving at a hotel at 4am. That’s not good for me because it affects the blood cells. But I love playing with the band, and it’s sad to think this is the last tour.

Is it strange thinking it’s the last time you’ll play these countries?

It particularly hit me in Australia. I thought: “Blimey. This is it. We’re never going back.” It’s very emotional. But it doesn’t mean we won’t play together any more, we’re just stopping touring. Well, I’m not doing any more. They [Ozzy Osbourne and Geezer Butler] might be (laughs).

Have you found yourself thinking back to how an accident in a sheet metal factory led to you inventing heavy metal?

It was my last day at work. I was about to join this professional band and go to Germany. I came home for lunch and didn’t want to go back. My mum said: “Go finish the job properly.” The machine came down on my fingers and took the ends off. But it made me determined. I melted a Fairy Liquid bottle and made new tips for my fingers, then detuned the strings to make them easier to play. I found my sound because of Fairy Liquid.

And suddenly you were in a band called Black Sabbath who half the country thought were satanists!

We did have an interest in the occult. Well, Geezer and myself watched horror films, but we’d get witches at the shows. One night we got back to the hotel and there was a whole row of them in black cloaks, sitting on the floor, chanting. We had to step over them to get in our rooms. In the end we blew their candles out and sang “Happy Birthday” to them. That really pissed them off.

As well as being the riff master, you’re known as one of rock’s great pranksters. Did you really blow up Richard Branson’s fish?

We were staying at his house to do an album. Ian Gillan from Deep Purple was our singer at the time, but he erected a marquee outside to sleep. Ian said: “I want the fresh air for my voice” and all that rubbish. Anyway, when we came back from the pub, we put all this pyro round his tent. It was so loud that his marquee just took off, with a mushroom cloud like an atomic bomb. The blast went right through the lake and all these prize fish came floating to the top. We were thinking: “Blimey, who’s gonna tell Branson?” Of course there was a church next door and they got a petition against us.

Why did you paint Bill Ward gold?

We were staying at John DuPont’s house in Los Angeles, the bloke who owned DuPont paint products. We found all this paint in the garage, and were all pissed, so thought it would be fun to paint Bill gold from head to toe. He started having convulsions. The ambulance people gave us a right bollocking: “You idiots! You could have killed him.” They gave him adrenalin and we had to use paint stripper to get it off. He looked like a beetroot by the end.

Did you really send [footballer-manager-turned Sky pundit] Trevor Francis to see Lamb Of God?

He came to see us in Manchester and they were supporting. I said “Oh, you’ll like this band, Trevor, they’re like the Eagles.” He came back like he was in shock. His face was a picture.

How did Black Sabbath end up auditioning Michael Bolton?

When we were looking for a vocalist after Ronnie – or maybe after Ian Gillan. We had thousands of tapes sent in and Michael Bolton was one of them, before he was famous. He was good, to be honest, but we had so many it got confusing.

What does Ozzy bring to the Sabs that others don’t?

He’s the original. It’s like putting an old glove on, with Ozzy and Geezer. It’s a shame Bill’s not involved now. It was contractual, partly, but we were worried about his health after his heart thing. I still speak to him but we tend to email. I can’t paint him gold by email. We had some great fun. I used to set him on fire.

On fire?!

It was our party piece, which always worked until the last time we did it. We had this new producer, Martin Birch, who’d heard all these stories about satanism and was a bit nervous. I made a wooden doll and wrapped it in a black cloth and the other guys wound him up that it was my voodoo doll of him. Anyway, Bill says – in front of Martin – “Are you going to set fire to me then, Tony?” I tipped rubbing alcohol over him. Normally it just burned off but this time it soaked into his clothes, so when I lit it he went up like a bomb. He was rolling on the floor, shouting and screaming. I thought it was part of the joke, so poured more stuff on him. Martin couldn’t believe it. We had to get an ambulance for Bill. He’d got third-degree burns. I felt bloody awful. We still play jokes on each other. Not quite as severe as that. I learned my lesson.

Does it amuse you reading about Ozzy’s latest antics in the tabloids?

It’s nonsense, to be honest. You never know what’s coming. God knows what I’ll read about him next – probably that he’s pregnant.

How did drugs change your music?

It made us experiment and talk about things more, to the extent that we’d be up all bloody night. Then we’d see each other the next day and couldn’t remember any of it.

Is it true that your famous Iron Man riff was inspired by tea?

Coffee actually! We rehearsed in this youth club in Aston and it was all they had. I had a cup and out came that riff. The first time I knew we had something different was the song Black Sabbath [1970]. Then you want that feeling again.

How on earth did Black Sabbath’s legendary guitarist end up writing the 2013 Armenian entry for the Eurovision song contest?

I’ve done a lot for Armenia, after various earthquake disasters, so they asked me and I had this ballad. It was the last thing I thought I should be doing (laughs). I mean, I never watch Eurovision. Of course, I had to watch it then.

And you’ve become a lecturer at Coventry University.

I got a doctorate and then they made me a visiting professor, so I talk to students about music. We put a band together and I nurture them.

Have you got a cap and gown?

I have.

It’s not, actually! I felt very uncomfortable wearing different colours.

Do you always wear black?

I once walked into the pub in a blue shirt and never heard the last of it. “Where’s all your black stuff? You can’t come in here like that.” It was like I’d done a murder.

Why do you always wear a cross onstage?

I’ve had it 40-odd years and never been onstage without it. It’s a lucky charm. We all had one. Ozzy’s still got his. Bill’s is in a box. Geezer lost his at the Villa ground.

Do you believe in God?

I believe in a god… and that the Devil exists in all of us.

How did it feel to have a worldwide No 1 album [with 13] in 2013?

Our first number one, after 40-odd years. Absolutely brilliant. And playing live now is nervy, daring … you’re on edge, because you never know if it’s going to go crap. But when the crowd are with you, it’s phenomenal. Then you come off the road and you’re you again.

Who are you, when you’re not on the road with Sabbath?

I’m a bloke who walks the dog.

You’re playing Download next month at Donington, a place you’ve played on numerous occasions. Have you got anything special planned in case it’s the last time?

Yeah, we’re not turning up (laughs). No, it’s always a great place to play.

After The End, could Sabbath do a really small show again, or a pub?

We’d deafen them!

Dave Simpson for The Guardian, 2 June 2016