I thought this interview was rather funny, especially his description of Rolling Stone magazine 
Zakk Wylde
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You see, they gone and done pissed off Zakk Wylde. Big fucking mistake. Never mind their contemporaries, who were bound to find issue with the list no matter what, and never mind the readers because they probably believe everything the magazine tells them anyway. No, theyre not the concern. It seems someone close to Wylde was wicked enough to show him the list. All I had to do was light the fuse. When you want the thickest, choicest cut of beef, you go to the butcher. When you want the tightest, finest piece of ass, you go to the head cheerleader. And when you want a real, cursed-laden, death-threatening, rottweiler-off-the-chain opinion on The 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time list, you go to the man who will give you just that. And, coincidentally, he happens to be one of the greatest guitarists of all time. Or thats what some people think, anyway. Rolling Stone sees it differently, considering Wylde didnt even make their list. And thats what makes his opinion all the more special.
Its not his exclusion from the list that upsets the New Jersey born hell raiser, who, since the age of 19, has been Ozzy Osbournes right hand man and currently fronts the behemoth metal juggernaut, Black Label Society. Its the exclusion of certain nameable guitar gods and the placement of certain others, most notably Wyldes heroes, Eddie Van Halen and Randy Rhoads, who find placements at numbers 70 and 85, respectively, that really grinds his organ.
Put it this way, begins Wylde, his down-home, beer-soaked growl of a voice thundering through his massive beard, when Eddie Van Halen is number 70 and Randy Rhoads is number 85, I mean, bottom line is I have to play Randy Rhoads shit every night. I idolize Randy Rhoads. I still got posters of Randy Rhoads in my garage right now, in my weight room. I carry them on the bus. I love Randy Rhoads to death man, so I mean, the whole thing is just like, Ive got to play Randys shit every night. Last time I checked, Joan Jett cant play fucking Mr. Crowley, you know what Im saying?
Joan Jett checks in at number 87, just behind Van Halen and Rhoads (a little too close for Wyldes comfort), yet ahead of some exceptional players who join Wylde on the outside looking in.
Youve got to laugh at the thing, Wylde continues. I mean, Joe Satriani isnt in there. Steve Vai isnt in there. Yngwie Malmsteen isnt in that fucking list. Slash isnt in there. They are some of the sickest guitar players that have ever walked this planet. I mean, Im a guitar player. Do you know how good fucking Yngwie is? Its beyond fucking sick. The fact that Yngwie isnt in it is just fucking mind-boggling to me. People can say what they want about Yngwie, but its just like naming the 10 greatest singers of all time and not putting Pavarotti in it, you know what Im saying? Yngwie is a virtuoso.
So where and when did things go wrong? If a best of list is doomed to fail it is because of a lack or criteria, its limits bound only by its arbitrary nature. But in this case, it all hangs on one word: greatest. Not coolest, not most inspirational, not most influential, but greatest. Which makes entries like Jack White of the White Stripes at number 17 and Kurt Cobain at number 12 so terribly wrong.
I mean, I dig the White Stripes, I think theyre fucking cool as fuck, I mean theyve got balls from hell, you know what Im saying? says Wylde. Even Kurt Cobain. I dig Kurt. Great songwriter. Great voice. Great records. But I mean, its just like, hes above Eddie Van Halen? Jack White, what, this is his second fucking album? And hes number 17?
The list gave top honors to the eminent Jimi Hendrix, another of Wyldes idols (he even named one of his sons Hendrix), and while its impossible to downplay Hendrixs contribution to the guitar, Wylde believes Hendrixs number one status is a slight miscue.
With Hendrix technically disqualified, Wyldes choice for the greatest guitarist of all time becomes quite evident.
As far as Im concerned, Eddie Van Halen should be number one. And then Randy Rhoads would have to be in the top three or top five. Hed have to be.
But enough about best of lists, and who should and should not have been included, because theres a deeper issue here. If Rolling Stones The 100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time list makes any kind of statement at all, its that the once mighty ruler of rock politic, the grand daddy of pop culture, which helped define an entire generation by going against it, by speaking for it, has lost its edge and, more importantly, its voice. Wylde agrees, laying it out in terms perhaps easier to understand.
Youve got to understand, the only thing Rolling Stone magazine is good for is when you take a good-ass shit and you wipe your ass with it. Youve got a bunch of yuppie-ass, hack, wannabe musicians that never made it and theyre working for a punk-ass, shit, scumbag magazine. Their pulse on what the fuck is cool is fucking pathetic. Eddie Van Halen is number 70? Everyone that works at that magazine is like your yuppie, dad, old, fucking cunt-ass motherfucker that youd like to smash in the fucking face. Randy Rhoads 85? Thats fucking pathetic, man. It just goes to show you that nobody at that fucking magazine knows what the fuck is going on. Id just like to go down to the building and burn it down, you know what I mean? Just for shits and giggles.
He draws his curses out nice and slow, extra emphasis placed on the nastiness. But Wyldes nastiness can be construed as nothing more than misplaced passion for his craft. He watches as things like best of lists and scumbag media, or the industry and its counterfeit praise, bastardize the craft he worships, studies, and perfects. And if someone ever does wake up and decides to recognize rocks true soldiers, Wylde will be the first to turn it down.
If I ever get an award, you know whos going to accept it? he asks rhetorically. The fucking New York City chapter of the Hells Angels are going to roll on up in their fucking motorcycles, take the fucking thing, smash it, roll over it a couple of times, and just fucking laugh their balls off and piss on the fucking thing, then just leave.
Unfortunately, such a grandiose scene never played itself out at the 36th Annual Grammy Awards in 1993 when Wylde received a Grammy with Ozzy for the song I Dont Want To Change The World in the Best Metal Performance With Vocal category. Wylde doesnt know what he ever did with that award, nor does he care. He doesnt even hang his platinum records in his house.
I dont give a fuck about any of that shit because that aint the reason I play, admits Wylde. Its all phony and fake and fucking bullshit anyway. I mean the only reason why they voted for Ozzy is because that was the only name they knew, you know what Im saying? They never heard the fucking song. Its just like Jethro Tull beating Metallica. The guys that are voting for this thing have no clue. Theyre so out of touch its a fucking joke.
Wylde did receive one accolade recently that he graciously accepted. Rolling Stone may not have thought much of Wyldes accomplishments to include him in their list, but on October 18 the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame inducted Wyldes first guitar. This was a different kind of recognition for Wylde, one that gave him the chance to honor his parents, who bought him his first guitar as a high school graduation present, and to do something meaningful in the name of guitar playing.
Put it this way my mom would have dug it, explains Wylde. But I mean, thats cool. I said were going to give them something. If Im going to inspire some kid to fucking play, to practice every day, 10 hours a fucking day, I mean, this is the guitar that I sat in my backyard practicing on 10 hours a fucking day, so I said well give that to the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. You know, its got to mean something. I mean everything is so fake and fucking phony and fucking pisses me the fuck off man.
Wyldes Hall of Fame career has been anything but phony and can be defined with one word: signature. The famed Bulls Eye guitar; the muted harmonics, whirlwind finger picking, and thick, sour mash crunch; the walk and talk of an angry Viking on a loud Harley. Wylde is the worlds most terrifying renaissance man. Aside from his current band Black Label Society, Wylde also fronted the rhythm and blues-inspired rock band Pride and Glory and released a haunting acoustic solo album, Book of Shadows. He has been linked with professional wrestling and major league baseball, being a huge fan of both, and even appeared in the film Rock Star. He is a devoted husband and father.
But perhaps the feather in his cap Wylde is most known for is his signature relationship with friend and mentor, Ozzy Osbourne. Wylde has helped define Ozzys sound since 1988 and the two have become inseparable since, building a modern day heavy metal friendship empire.
I love him to death, says Wylde. Hes the godfather to my boy. I idolize him. I thank God every day for putting him into my life.
Together, the two have traveled from one end of the world to the other, consuming rock n roll. But the 54-year-old father of heavy metal has recently fallen ill, postponing the European leg of their tour. Wyldes list of priorities begins with family and Ozzy is no exception.
First off, fuck the music, explains Wylde. The main thing is to make sure Ozzy is well. Thats first and foremost. Make sure the old man is good and ready to roll, because hes a fucking warrior. I mean, he works out all the time. The bottom line is that when he gets up on stage he wants to give the fucking best performance he can, so the whole thing is like, well just push it back a little longer, probably like January well go over there and well knock it out. Ozzys just like, Give me a little bit of time to fucking recoup.
Wyldes seen it all come and go. And amid the scumbag media and industry bullshit hell draw strength from his own experiences, leaving all that is irksome and unworthy in the world of rock n roll behind him in a haze of guitar genius and alcohol-fueled brutality.
One thing Ive learned from [Ozzy] is that no matter how bad it fucking gets, you have to get back on your fucking feet, youve got to be a man, youve got to be strong, youve got to be a warrior, and youve got to roll. End of fucking story.
-This was fucking written by Jeff Fucking Warren, bitch.
