Black Sabbath: The Eternal Idol Was Total Musical Chaos

There are messy albums, and then there is The Eternal Idol, a record so tangled in lineup changes, management disasters, unpaid musicians, and identity crises that it almost feels impossible it was ever completed at all. Yet somehow, out of all that confusion, Black Sabbath delivered one of the strangest transitional albums in their entire catalog.

By 1987, this was basically Tony Iommi dragging the Black Sabbath name through a hurricane by himself. Every original member was gone except him. Vocalist Glenn Hughes from Deep Purple had already exited after Seventh Star; management was a disaster, musicians were walking out mid-session, and the album itself was recorded twice. That alone tells you how unstable things were.

Originally, the album featured vocalist Ray Gillen, whose voice absolutely smoked on those sessions. But between non-payment, confusion over songwriting contributions, and general chaos surrounding the project, Gillen bailed before the album was completed. Enter Tony Martin, who was handed the impossible job of re-recording the vocals for the entire album in something like eight frantic days before release. Imagine trying to step into a collapsing studio situation and save a Black Sabbath record on the clock.

Even stranger, bassist Bob Daisley played bass on the album and wrote all the lyrics, but the sleeve credited Dave Spitz instead. Meanwhile, Eric Singer handled drums before eventually ending up in KISS, and longtime behind-the-scenes Sabbath figure Geoff Nicholls added keyboards throughout the sessions.

Your enemy’s enemy becomes your friend real fast in the world of heavy metal. After Ozzy Osbourne was fired from Black Sabbath, one of the key people who helped build his solo empire was none other than Bob Daisley, a guy who would later end up tangled in his own wars over money, credits, and lawsuits with Ozzy.

What makes it all even stranger is that Daisley somehow became one of the most important behind-the-scenes figures in both the Ozzy and, later briefly, Tony Martin-era Sabbath worlds. The same guy helping Ozzy build his solo legacy was also helping keep Black Sabbath alive during one of its most unstable periods. Heavy metal history is full of weird betrayals, shifting alliances, and legal trench wars, but Bob Daisley might quietly be one of the most important musicians sitting in the middle of all of it.

The production side was just as unstable. Producers kept rotating through the project like a revolving door, beginning with Jeff Glixman, moving to Vic Coppersmith-Heaven, and finally landing with Chris Tsangarides. Sessions were abandoned, restarted, reshaped, and patched together under pressure because the label wanted another Black Sabbath album delivered. This was less a carefully planned artistic statement and more a survival mission.

Yet despite all of that, The Eternal Idol accidentally became one of the defining records of the Tony Martin era. It leaned heavily into gothic atmosphere and glossy mid-80s metal production instead of the doom-heavy blues darkness fans associated with classic Sabbath. Commercially, it stalled badly in America, peaking at only 168 on the charts, but over time, it developed a cult following among fans who appreciate this strange, theatrical period of the band.

Then there is the cover shoot, which sounds like something only Black Sabbath could survive. To recreate The Eternal Idol by Auguste Rodin, the band used live models painted in bronze paint for hours during the photography sessions. The paint turned out to be toxic, and the models became sick enough to require hospitalization. Tony Iommi casually noted this was not even the first time something like this happened in Sabbath history, referencing the infamous incident where Bill Ward was painted gold years earlier and also ended up needing medical attention. Only Black Sabbath could nearly poison people in the name of album art twice.

But the real oddity from these sessions might be “Some Kind of Woman,” the B-side Tony Martin helped write during this era. Talk about lost identity. Close your eyes and let your ears drift for a second and you could swear you accidentally put on Van Halen instead of Black Sabbath. The song barely resembles Sabbath at all. It is slick, upbeat, catchy, and absolutely drenched in late-80s commercial hard rock energy.

It sounds like Tony Iommi spent a weekend studying Eddie Van Halen’s guitar tricks. The riffs bounce instead of crawl. The groove swings instead of crushing. You can almost hear Sammy Hagar singing over it without changing a thing. It feels more Sunset Strip than Birmingham doom metal.

And yet, that is exactly why the song works.

“Some Kind of Woman” is a genuinely fun rocker. It has hooks, energy, and that unapologetically glossy 1980s arena-rock feel that many metal bands were chasing at the time. Fans and critics have long pointed to it as one of the clearest examples of Sabbath trying to navigate the commercial hard rock world of the late 80s. Maybe if the album leaned harder into that sound instead of sitting awkwardly between gothic metal and radio rock, The Eternal Idol might have connected with a wider audience.

Instead, the album ended up suspended between identities, between singers, between producers, and honestly between decades. That weird tension is exactly what makes it fascinating now.