Judas Priest’s Ian Hill delivers a heavy, geezer-inspired take on Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’ cover

Bass Tribute: Ian Hill of Judas Priest Unleashes Powerful Geezer Butler-Inspired Rendition of Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’

In a moment that captured the true essence of heavy metal history, Judas Priest’s founding bassist Ian Hill delivered a thunderous tribute to one of the genre’s most defining anthems—Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs.” With unmistakable reverence and raw force, Hill’s rendition of the classic track was more than a cover; it was a sonic homage to Geezer Butler, his longtime peer, friend, and fellow pioneer of low-end fury.

Performed during a special one-night-only event dedicated to the roots of heavy metal, Hill took the stage without fanfare, letting the ominous opening notes of “War Pigs” signal what was about to unfold. From the first rumble of his bass strings, it was clear this was not just a musical performance—it was a statement of legacy, respect, and enduring power.

Ian Hill, often the quiet foundation behind Judas Priest’s roaring twin guitars and Halford’s vocal wails, stepped into the spotlight with a commanding presence. His tone was dark, deep, and unmistakably influenced by Butler’s original work, yet it carried his own flavor—a mix of grit, precision, and decades of instinct honed on stages across the world.

The performance was a slow burn, much like the original track, but Hill’s interpretation brought a new dimension. Without altering the structure, he infused the song with subtle changes in phrasing and tempo that showcased his personal touch. His fingers danced along the strings with a calm authority, unleashing waves of low-end power that filled the venue like thunder rolling through steel.

Musically, the tribute was faithful, yet expressive. Hill leaned into the classic doom-laden tones of “War Pigs,” honoring the soul of Sabbath while allowing his bass to speak in his own dialect. Each note carried history—a conversation between two metal titans, a nod across time between bassist and bassist.

The rhythm section supporting Hill was razor-sharp, but intentionally kept minimalistic to keep the focus on the bassline. Drums echoed Bill Ward’s chaotic beauty, while subtle guitar accents created an atmospheric backdrop rather than dominating the soundscape. This allowed Hill’s instrument to narrate the story, heavy with emotion and grit.

Audience members, many of whom had grown up with both Judas Priest and Black Sabbath, were visibly moved. As Hill locked into the groove and led the way through the song’s haunting breakdown, fans raised horns high into the air, swaying with the weight of nostalgia and reverence.

Midway through the performance, a screen behind the stage displayed black-and-white images of Geezer Butler in his early days—leather-clad, cigarette in hand, lost in the haze of amplifier smoke. The visual tribute added emotional weight, bridging generations of metal fans and reminding everyone of the path these legends paved.

Hill has often spoken of his admiration for Butler, calling him a “true architect of heavy metal bass.” This performance wasn’t just about playing a song—it was Hill’s way of expressing gratitude, not just as a fellow musician, but as someone who helped define a genre in parallel with Sabbath’s innovations.

The climax of the song arrived with the iconic outro, where Hill let his bass roar freely, shaking the floorboards and rattling the bones of every soul in the audience. It wasn’t flashy or overdone—it was pure metal energy, unfiltered and eternal.

After the final note, Hill stood motionless, bathed in red and purple light, as the crowd erupted. No words were needed. His face bore the expression of quiet pride, the kind that comes not from ego, but from honoring a shared journey through decades of musical rebellion.

The event also included messages from musicians across the metal world, many of whom credited both Hill and Butler for influencing their own careers. Bassists from newer generations spoke in awe of the tone, timing, and attitude these two icons brought to their instruments.

Though Judas Priest and Black Sabbath have long stood as separate monoliths of the metal pantheon, there has always been an invisible thread connecting them. This tribute made that thread visible—powerful, pulsing, and forged in Birmingham steel.

Hill’s choice to perform “War Pigs” was fitting on many levels. Not only is it one of Sabbath’s most enduring songs, but its themes of war, corruption, and resistance remain timeless—just like the music itself. It spoke to the roots of metal as protest, as passion, and as poetry in distortion.

Fans and critics alike are already calling the performance a standout moment in recent metal memory. Some are even pushing for an official release, hoping the audio and visuals will be preserved for those who couldn’t attend. If it does become available, it will no doubt serve as a masterclass in what it means to pay tribute with authenticity and heart.

For Hill, who rarely steps into the media spotlight, this performance may be one of his most personal and defining. It’s not often that a tribute can carry the weight of history without being weighed down by it, but he pulled it off with quiet brilliance.

As metal continues to evolve and new voices emerge, performances like this remind fans where it all began. Two men, two bands, one genre. This night was not about endings—it was about connection, continuity, and celebration.

Ian Hill’s tribute was not a farewell, nor a farewell to “War Pigs.” It was a deep, resonant thank-you—a riff of recognition, played loud enough for the whole world to feel.