The Prince of Darkness is no more

Actually, I wanted to dedicate my second-ever post to something mundane. I was thinking of an article about the rack or an album from way back when. That was the plan. I scrapped it early this morning, right after reading the news. I usually skim the news in bed, and normally there's nothing that knocks my socks off. Today was different. One of the greatest musicians and entertainers—in my humble opinion—began his journey to his Creator. Ozzy Osbourne, the man who used 'fucking' not just as a word but more as punctuation, has died. Just a few days ago, he played his (this time) final concert in his hometown (I treated myself to the livestream and didn't regret it), and now he's gone—and that really shook me. After Lemmy and Eddie, another giant of metal. He wasn't just a giant; one could say he's one of those without whom metal probably wouldn't exist as it does. I could, like many others, elaborate on where he was born, what kind of cakes his mother liked to eat, or what car his neighbor drives, but I doubt anyone would be interested. I could also recite his discography up and down (but I don't have to; anyone who appreciates his music knows it anyway). But I won't.

Ozzy (ein Versuch)

Instead, I simply want to say a few words about him. Thinking about it today, he was probably one of the first artists to introduce me to metal on my small radio. Back then, I had a cassette with a bunch of Deep Purple (the tape belonged to my dad; I never really liked Deep Purple that much) alongside "Paranoid" and the beginning of "Iron Man" (unfortunately, there wasn't enough space for the whole song – that's just how it was back then). Even now, decades later, I remember being much more excited by the heavy, driving sound than by what I considered Deep Purple's almost hysterical style. I must have been around 10. Some time later, public broadcasting ensured that Black Sabbath, and thus Ozzy, became for me what they still are today, years later – musicians who wouldn't bore me even after hours of continuous play, and who, for me, are among the most important figures, not just in metal.

But back to public broadcasting. At some point, in the middle of the night, a show called "Xlarge," hosted by Arabella Kiesbauer, aired. You could marvel at documentaries and all sorts of other things. One of them, however, stuck in my mind: "Dance with the Devil." This documentary attempted to explain to the viewer, based on well-researched half-truths, why metal is antisocial and evil and why its proponents come directly from the 9th circle of hell. For example, Dee Snider was accused of glorifying violence (this was before his film Strangeland), Judas Priest was attributed a closeness to the horned one, which you could only hear if you played their records backward – I have to say, at that time, there were isolated CDs, playing them backward was an impossibility; some cassette decks could do it, but LPs, well, if I had thought of turning a record backward on Dad's turntable, it would have ended much worse for me and even more so for the needle. W.A.S.P., Deicide (the guys who, contrary to their announcement, are still among the living), and even the Eagles got their share of criticism. But each of them only appeared very briefly. It was different with Sabbath and Ozzy; priests, lawyers, and countless organizations were allowed to warn against them. On Sabbath Bloody Sabbath and Blizzard of Ozz, works were discovered that drove people to suicide or Satanism, to sodomy, or perhaps even to all of it, and "Bark at the Moon" immediately turned every teenager into a disciple of Lucifer.

If that was supposed to keep me away from the whole thing, it was the proverbial shot in the foot. The very next day, I went out and invested my pocket money in two sound carriers. In the neighboring town, there was a well-stocked record store where I found Bark at the Moon and Blizzard of Ozz. I only found Sabbath Bloody Sabbath a few years later in Vienna. These works played for hours and hours. You have to find a way into some tracks (I only learned to appreciate some many years later; perhaps you also need a bit of maturity for that), while others hit you immediately like high-proof schnapps. From then on, Ozzy and Sabbath were always a mandatory purchase as soon as something new was on the market.

However, Ozzy is somehow more than just a musician to me; he represents a time that, I believe, was the best the last, say, 200 years produced. Neither he nor others had to force themselves into a corset; people respected each other and their quirks (even without government mandates). Musicians were musicians whom people wanted to hear, not musicians whom a record company thought people had to hear. In that era, everyone had their chance. Ozzy himself is one of the best examples; he gave countless young musicians (especially Zakk Wylde) the opportunity to make a name for themselves. But I'm digressing.

First and foremost, Ozzy was a musician, so let's talk a bit about his music. I can't even say which of his songs is the best; it might depend a bit on my mood, but for almost every mood, there are several songs. Among the best for me, however, is certainly "Bark at the Moon." I love the opening riff, but not just that; the end leading into its final howl is also powerful (I've tried it on the guitar several times, albeit with moderate success). "Suicide Solution" is similar (Zakk Wylde takes it to a higher level on Life and Loud, although the studio version already sounds brilliant). "Shot in the Dark" and "Ultimate Sin" were and are timeless. I remember very well the live recording of "Shot in the Dark" in Moscow right after the fall of the Iron Curtain (you could still see Zakk Wylde's full face then). One of the songs I only discovered much later was definitely "Mr. Crowley" – today, the song is indispensable from any Ozzy playlist. I'm still trying "Gracy Train" today. "The Road to Nowhere" (which I also attempted countless times) was not just a musical program in my youth. With "Changes," "Desire," or "I Don't Want to Change the World," my jaw still drops today. There was also one or two duets. Like the following – I had a poster of her on my wall, and didn't even know that much about her.

Ozzy und Lita - ein tolles Gespann

Ozzy didn't just shine as a solo artist. His time with Sabbath, though perhaps brief, profoundly shaped today's music world like few others. I'd even go so far as to put Black Sabbath with Ozzy on par with The Beatles, Elvis, or The Stones. Except for 'Paranoid.' And that brings me back to my first tape. Today, when 'Paranoid' comes on, I turn up the volume; when it's 'Smoke on the Water,' I change the station. But back to 'Paranoid.' A song that never gets old. I've heard it in countless variations, but no one after Ozzy has ever managed to give the song the character that Ozzy infused it with. It's a song that only truly becomes what it is—a masterpiece—because of Ozzy, Tony, Bill, and Geezer. But 'Iron Man' or 'War Pigs' still move me today as if I'm hearing them for the first time. 'Killing Yourself to Live' (one of the songs that, according to the documentary, led to countless suicides) shows you how to do doom right, and 'Children of the Grave' makes my whiskey taste even better. Speaking of whiskey, there's also something quite nice with Mr. Lemmy Kilmister. But see for yourself.

Hellraiser

Alright, moving on. As we all know, their paths eventually diverged, though I must say that Black Sabbath then had one or two singers who were a real asset, like Ronnie James Dio – Heaven and Hell certainly had something special, or Tony Martin – Headless Cross is still one of my favorite albums today, and 'When Death Calls' still gives me serious goosebumps. On the other hand, there were also vocalists who just didn't quite fit. In retrospect, I have to say that during the time everyone was doing their own thing, Ozzy produced the better albums; there wasn't really anything where I thought, 'I should have invested that money in sausage and beer instead.' Speaking of beer, that reminds me of another Ozzy/Lemmy duet.

Hab ganz vergessen Slash zu erwähnen, hol ich jetzt nach

It was a different story with his former bandmates. They came out with works that I absolutely couldn't get into and never will—I simply won't live long enough. But then came the day when they reunited and released another collaborative work, 13. This album pretty much showed everyone how it's done and how doom is supposed to sound. An—and I know I'm using that word a lot today—ingenious, not to say borderline brilliant, work. Hardly had that been absorbed when the next solo efforts came out. And it wasn't as if the old man had shot his wad; no. Not a single album was a dud or a filler. I found his duet with Elton John particularly remarkable—it surprised me a little, I must admit, but I still think it's great (though, to be fair, Elton could have made an appearance in the video). I also fondly remember his guest appearance as a preacher in the '80s hit 'Ragman' (Fastway, by the way, delivered a killer soundtrack), in which Gene Simmons also shone. What I didn't follow much was The Osbournes, but only because I didn't see much point in watching people in another living room in my own living room. I could write so much more, but I'll leave it at that. Many people describe me as a cold, emotionless person without human feelings, which I probably often am. Not today; Ozzy's death deeply moves me, not only because one of the greatest musicians of modern times has closed his eyes forever, but also because he took a piece of my youth with him to the grave. The world became a lot poorer yesterday.

We didn't know each other personally (unfortunately). I also, regrettably, never had the opportunity to experience him live. Nevertheless, I want to say goodbye and wish you a good journey. Greet Lemmy, Randy, Eddie, and if you meet him, Jimi. And if the opportunity arises, apologize to the bat. God Bless you all!

Go Fucking Grazy!