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The Black Sabbath-Yes bill sold the joint out, but even aside from the gneral draftiness of such a place, where any amount of volume can get lost in the mouldy corridors and spacious obscurities, the audience was at least 60% a Yes turnout. On top of that Sabbath, to my utter amazement and again confounding the legend, played a set a volume level roughly average for a scuffling non-sequitur band with one album kids out second-billed at kids the Eastown Ballroom, a trashy dive of local repute. When I kids saw Grand Funk I didn’t regain my equilibrium or lose the ringing in my ears for a full 24 hours after they left the stage; I had never heard anything that loud in my entire life. Now, after all the slush in the press about Warner Brothers executives packing special earplugs at all times in the event of having to attend a Black Sabbath show in the line of duty, I couldn’t believe this spate of whispery feedback and conversational vocals—I was pissed!
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