One of the Best Shows Ever at the Mother Church!
Dark Chapel, Zakk Sabbath, Black Label Society, Nashville, TN The Ryman Auditorium - May 14, 2026
Worth the Wait!!
There are certain venues that feel less like buildings and more like living things. The kind of places where the walls absorb decades of music until the room itself begins to hum before the first note is even played. The Ryman Auditorium has always carried that reputation. The “Mother Church” nickname is earned honestly. You feel it the second you walk through those doors.
And on this particular Thursday night in Nashville, that church was preparing for a sermon delivered through stacks of Wylde Audio amps, Sabbath riffs thick as black smoke, and the unmistakable howl of Zakk Wylde bending strings like they owed him money.
This show had been circled on the calendar for months. Ever since catching Zakk and company down in Memphis last December, anticipation had been building like pressure under a boiler. So myself, Susan, Carson, and Lannah loaded up and made the four-hour run north on I-65 for a triple-header featuring Dark Chapel, Zakk Sabbath, and Black Label Society.
The drive itself felt easy. Spring weather hung perfectly over the highway, traffic stayed mostly civilized until Nashville reminded us it was still Nashville, and the whole ride carried that loose road-trip energy where conversation drifts from music to memories to absolute nonsense without warning. Those rides matter. They become part of the concert long before the first ticket gets scanned.
This was Susan,Carson and Lannah’s first trip to the Ryman, and honestly, introducing people to a place like that is almost as satisfying as the concert itself. Sharing music is one thing. Sharing first experiences is something deeper. That is where memories harden into permanent fixtures.
By the time we rolled into downtown Nashville, the city already felt electric.
And the night had not even started yet.
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Porch Songs Before the Apocalypse
One of the newer additions outside the Ryman Auditorium is a small outdoor stage near the front entrance and gift shop area. It turned the pre-show atmosphere into its own little festival pocket. A local band kept the growing crowd entertained while lines wrapped around the block and fans swapped stories, patches, and predictions about the setlists waiting inside.
Then came the walk through those historic doors.
The Ryman still refuses to let you forget what it originally was. Those famous church pew seats are beautiful for history and questionable for lower back support, but somehow that discomfort becomes part of the charm. Built in 1842, the venue carries ghosts in the best possible way. Country legends, gospel giants, folk storytellers, and rock rebels have all stood under those lights.
There was a time heavy metal would have felt completely unwelcome there.
Now Sabbath riffs echo through stained wood like they belong.
And honestly, they do.
No Sunshine on This Dark Night
At exactly 7:30, Dark Chapel walked onstage and immediately erased any lingering “opening act” energy from the room.
This was not filler. This was not a warmup.
This was a band arriving.
Led by guitarist and vocalist Dario Lorina, the group tore into “Afterglow” with the kind of precision that only comes from musicians genuinely locked into each other. Every movement felt connected. Every transition landed clean. The chemistry inside this lineup has clearly evolved since the last time we saw them, because this set absolutely steamrolled their previous performance.
Then came “Hollow Smile.”
That song hit differently inside the Ryman.
There is something about the contrast between the haunting lyrical themes and the warmth of that old room that amplified the emotional weight behind it. A song about internal struggle can easily drift into cliché territory in lesser hands, but Dark Chapel gave it teeth. The performance carried genuine tension beneath the melody, like a person trying to keep themselves stitched together in public while quietly unraveling underneath.
The room felt that.
Dario later traded his guitar for the keyboard during “Sign of Life,” adding another layer to the band’s already expanding sonic palette before sliding into a chilling cover of Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine.” The choice could have felt risky in a lineup built around doom, sludge, and riff worship, but instead it became one of the night’s most memorable moments. The song floated through the auditorium like candle smoke.
By the time “We Are Remade” closed their set, Dark Chapel had accomplished the hardest thing an opener can do.
They made people forget they were waiting for somebody else.
Classic Riffs for the Faithful
Then the lights dimmed again.
And suddenly it was time for Zakk Sabbath.
If Dark Chapel felt like entering the cathedral, Zakk Sabbath felt like descending into the crypt underneath it.
“Children of the Grave” exploded through the room first, instantly transforming the atmosphere from anticipation into full-blown worship. Zakk Wylde, bassist JD Deservio, and drummer Jeff Fabb moved like three musicians sharing one nervous system. There is no hesitation between them anymore. No visible communication needed. Entire transitions happened through instinct alone.
That is what years of playing together looks like.
“Snowblind” rolled through the Ryman with monstrous weight before the band powered into “Fairies Wear Boots,” every riff landing like collapsing concrete. JD’s bass solo during “Bassically” became its own event entirely, eventually morphing into “N.I.B.” with the kind of accuracy that made it genuinely difficult at times to separate tribute from resurrection.
And that is really the secret behind Zakk Sabbath.
They do not treat Black Sabbath material like museum pieces.
They play it like living music.
Then came “War Pigs.”
The moment those sirens began, the entire room shifted. Heads lifted. Voices rose. Even people trying to stay seated in those old church pews gave up and stood anyway. The Ryman transformed into a thunder chamber while Zakk unleashed one impossible solo after another, fingers moving across the fretboard with that familiar combination of violence and absurd technical control that somehow never loses emotional punch.
It was loud enough to rattle your chest cavity.
Exactly as it should be.
The Fine-Tuned Engine of Black Label Society
By this point, the entire evening had already justified the drive.
Then Black Label Society took the stage and somehow elevated everything even further.
This was my first time finally catching a full BLS set live after years of near misses and bad routing luck, and seeing how this tour is constructed makes the whole thing even more impressive. Dario Lorina opens with Dark Chapel. Zakk, JD, and Jeff dominate the middle portion with Zakk Sabbath. Then everybody returns together for the Black Label Society finale.
The entire evening becomes one giant interconnected machine.
And that machine absolutely roared inside the Ryman.
The opening “Whole Lotta Sabbath” mashup immediately set the tone, twisting Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” together with Sabbath motifs before launching directly into “Funeral Bell.” From there the band rolled straight into “Lord Humungus” and then the newer anthem “Name in Blood” from Engines of Demolition.
You could already tell which songs the crowd had adopted as sacred texts.
“Name in Blood” hit especially hard. Loyalty, brotherhood, honor, resilience. Those themes have always been embedded deeply into the DNA of Black Label Society, and hearing thousands of voices shouting those lyrics back at the stage made it feel less like a performance and more like a gathering.
A tribe recognizing itself.
Midway through the set came one of the night’s most devastating transitions.
“Heart of Darkness” gradually gave way into the solo section of Ozzy Osbourne’s “No More Tears,” and the room practically levitated during the buildup. The crescendo landed like a tidal wave, guitars screaming while the crowd completely surrendered to it.
That section alone was worth the price of admission.
Rivers of Memory
Eventually the chaos paused.
Zakk sat down behind the Baldwin piano and began introducing the band one by one, turning every introduction into another excuse for humor. Nobody escaped the jokes. According to Zakk, every member apparently hated Nashville, then Tennessee, then basically humanity itself.
Each time his response stayed the same.
“I love Nashville. I love Tennessee. I love everybody here tonight.”
Classic Zakk Wylde.
Crude humor one second. Genuine sincerity the next.
Then the mood shifted entirely.
Images of Dimebag Darrell and Vinnie Paul Abbott appeared towering behind the band while the opening notes of “In This River” filled the room.
And suddenly the concert stopped feeling like a concert.
It became remembrance.
There are songs that audiences sing along with. Then there are songs audiences carry with them. “In This River” belongs to the second category now. You could feel collective grief and gratitude mixing together throughout the room while people held phones aloft, wrapped arms around friends, or simply stood still absorbing it.
For a few minutes the Mother Church became exactly that again.
A sanctuary.
Eighteen Strings and the Final Benediction
Then came the double-neck guitar.
And the entire room knew what was coming.
“The Blessed Hellride” arrived like a freight train before the band bulldozed through “Fire It Up” and “Suicide Messiah” with absolutely no intention of conserving energy for the finish line.
But the emotional centerpiece of the final stretch became “Ozzy’s Song.”
I had already read reports from earlier tour stops describing how silent crowds became during this section, and Nashville reacted the same way. Thousands of people suddenly stopped shouting, stopped recording, stopped moving. The song unfolded under a giant backdrop image of Ozzy Osbourne while the room collectively processed decades of influence, memories, and gratitude tied to one voice that helped create heavy metal itself.
It was genuinely moving.
Not performative.
Not forced.
Just real.
Then came the closer.
“Stillborn.”
And good lord, what a way to end a night.
The riffs felt physically violent inside the Ryman. Zakk emptied the tank completely, throwing every ounce of energy left into the performance while the band behind him thundered like an engine trying to shake itself apart. It was the perfect closer because it left no room for subtlety.
Just pure release.
The final exhale after hours of volume, emotion, and memory.
Afterglow
Walking out of the Ryman afterward felt strange, like stepping back into ordinary life too quickly after being somewhere else entirely for several hours. You could hear it in the crowd around us too. Everybody carried that same buzz in their voices, replaying moments in real time before the memories even had a chance to cool.
Then came the parking garage adventure.
Apparently modern Nashville has embraced the “scan this QR code or remain trapped forever” philosophy. The SiriusXM garage system worked wonderfully right up until my phone battery decided it had spiritually departed this world. No battery meant no QR code. No QR code meant no exit. No visible override existed either, which feels like a design flaw straight from a dystopian concept album.
Eventually, through teamwork, screenshots, stubbornness, and what felt like divine intervention from Saint Tony Iommi himself, we escaped.
Barely.
Still, even that became part of the story.
Because that is what nights like this become over time. Not just songs or setlists, but entire chains of moments stitched together. The drive. The laughter. The pew seats. The thunder of “War Pigs.” The silence during “Ozzy’s Song.” The absurd panic of a dying phone battery in a parking garage prison.
All of it matters.
One thing became painfully clear by the end though.
These Nashville turn-and-burn trips are officially on borrowed time. Four hours there and four hours back might work when adrenaline is carrying the load, but the body starts filing complaints eventually. Future Nashville runs may require hotel rooms and recovery plans.
Worth it though.
Absolutely worth it.
And one final note before we go:
Dear Ryman staff, section 2 row L seats 5 and 6 have an oil drip situation happening overhead.
Even the Mother Church occasionally needs maintenance.
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Thank you!!
Great review! Thank you! Great photos!