Photo Credit: Ross Halfin
Editor’s Note: This already emotional piece was in the revision stages when we learned the devastating news of Ozzy’s passing. We’ve decided to preserve the original storytelling as initially intended and address the end of his life well-lived and our grief here without him in an epilogue.

INTRODUCTION | THURSDAY, JULY 17
What you are diving into here is my personal journal with regards to the Back to the Beginning extravaganza. Much of it was written off-the-cuff, and the sheer magnitude of the event means that even now there are still pieces of “thought” swirling in the ether and making brain fall by the hour. These recollections, emotions, and observations are shared reflectively over three separate entries after the event and are split between an initial “post-event download” and then a more chronological reflection on our time in Birmingham…

You will notice that something especially unique about these entries is that they document a Metallica show that was not theirs in any way, shape, or form. I cannot remember the last time James, Lars, Kirk, and Rob played as part of a supporting cast—maybe not since the 1988 Monsters of Rock tour. Back to the Beginning was purely about homage and gratitude for the enormous, immeasurable influence Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne have had on Metallica’s lives and career.

The added twist for me was that I also had much personal homage and gratitude to pay to Ozzy. Between late 1991 and mid-1997, I had the privilege of working closely with Ozzy and Sharon on a variety of projects. They were among the happiest memories I have, with both being unbelievably generous and supportive of a then-young guy making his way through this weird wonderland. I owe Ozzy and Sharon an enormous amount of gratitude for the love, support, and access they gave me all those years ago.


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin

FIRST ENTRY | MONDAY, JULY 7
It’s 2:40 AM UK time, I’m listening to “A National Acrobat,” and I’m not sleeping properly. I have shed some tears in the last 48 or so hours, but I know there’ll be more to come, because the magnitude of what happened on Saturday is immense. Back to the Beginning, hard rock and heavy metal’s ultimate tribute to Black Sabbath and Ozzy Osbourne, brought down the curtain on both Ozzy’s and Black Sabbath’s active careers. It was utterly visceral in its physicality, yet heroic in delivery. Those hands, those bodies, that voice, were electric.

We will never see them again.

That we saw them this one last time, in the streets of Aston* where they grew up all those decades ago, was miraculous: Ozzy’s struggles with Parkinson’s Disease and other injuries have been documented. Tony Iommi fought off cancer. Bill Ward and Geezer Butler have had their share of health issues to be taken seriously. The youngest member is 76 years old. Yeah. Exactly. Think about it; how many times have we had the privilege of seeing a founding line-up conclude their career together, especially one that went through the biblical levels of drug and alcohol that Sabbath did in their earlier years? Right. So, although it is sad they will no longer “be,” I am so, so grateful we all got the chance to celebrate them one more time…

…I sensed from the outshot that Lars, James, Kirk, and Rob were both excited and a little nervous. I think anyone taking one look at the line-up and measuring it against the size of the venue—a football stadium in the middle of town—was trying to figure out how everyone would fit. Back in 1984, I went to a Monsters of Rock festival at Donington (UK) featuring AC/DC, Van Halen, Ozzy, Gary Moore, Y&T, Accept, and Mötley Crüe. Even on a site three times the size of Villa Park, that was almost overwhelming. This felt like that sort of event on steroids. So, how would the sheer number of bands and musicians performing work, technically, artistically, and timewise? Nobody knew. All the participants had placed their faith with Jake Berry, the production manager, who in an illustrious career was once with Metallica on the Justice and Black Album tours, and in Tom Morello, the appointed musical director responsible for the schedule and super-groupings. The trust was well-placed. The meticulous and incredible feat of production saw impossible timings work bang on schedule, crews coming together around a giant revolving stage to set up and break down equipment fastidiously (heroes the lot of ’em). And the music? Morello did an outstanding job wrangling everyone whilst ensuring that each and every performer got to have their moment…

…Despite the privilege of access, I watched everything from front-of-house. Backstage, I felt like the teenage “observer” I started out as back in the early ’80s when I first bullshitted my way into rock journalism. The dressing room area was tight, with Ozzy and Sabbath taking over the Aston Villa first team locker rooms, Metallica right next to them, and then a small lobby area down a small flight of stairs which led to the floor (or pitch). On the floor above us were a whole bunch of others—so many stars in such a small space, many that I know from over the decades. But honestly, it was 1984 again, and I was simply happy to be there. To bear witness to dozens of rock’s biggest names all thoroughly enjoying seeing each other again, and united in their mission to thank and celebrate Sabbath and Ozzy.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a collection of rock bands and rock stars in such close quarters shedding not one fuck of ego. Not a negative ounce. No, it was all happiness, all joy at sharing these moments together in communal celebration of Sabbath and Ozzy. And as your Instagram feeds have no doubt proven, I am not sure I’ve seen more “musician selfies” than at Back to the Beginning. It was glorious to see such happy mingling, musing, and overall appreciation for the moment. I cannot remember the last time I saw as busy a backstage so utterly loose and fun…

…Okay, let me attempt to bring some structure to these thoughts.

It’s time I try to find some chronology, so starting with my next entry, I’m going back to Tuesday, July 1, when Metallica and I arrived at Heathrow to begin this odyssey.


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin

SECOND ENTRY | TUESDAY, JULY 8
We gathered in London on July 1, an impossibly hot Tuesday morning, and drove up to Birmingham to settle in. I rode up with Rob, we reminisced about some of our favorite Ozzy stories and moments. On arrival, we immediately went out for a wander around central Birmingham in search of the Black Sabbath mural.

Metallica had their wives, partners, and children with them for this one, which meant that local Indian restaurants were frequented (a Birmingham staple), and walks around town were enjoyed. In many ways, they were behaving exactly like the fans who turn M72 events into traveling family vacations; it would’ve been easy to forget they were actually performing and not just there solely as fans.

I have to say, Sharon Osbourne did a world-class job making the city of Birmingham a shrine to Black Sabbath and getting the local council fully bought in. Black Sabbath bunting in the High Street still tickles me in all the right ways.

Thursday’s rehearsal saw us enter Villa Park for the first time, and it was an incredible day.
 

Ross Halfin’s group photo session call became the major event. Handshakes and hugs. Steven Tyler and Sammy Hagar, James Hetfield and Billy Corgan, Mike Bordin and Andrew Watt, Tom Morello and Lars Ulrich (to name a few)… everywhere pockets of cheerful chatter and when-did-I-last-see-yous. Ross barked the corral call to gather everyone for the various photographs needed, with friends and families milling around behind him as he took the shots. Listen, only he could’ve pulled that off, only he could’ve playfully yet firmly got all those names and faces together and in the right places…


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin


…Of course, when Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, and Bill entered the room, there was an elevation in vibe. How much time had everyone in that room spent with these men over the years, on stereos as kids, on the road as adults? The hint of melancholy from Ozzy’s wheelchair was obliterated by the physical and mental presence displayed by all. They understood that the key to these days and hours was to enjoy them as they were happening, and not to dwell too much on what they signified…

…Like us all, I have been hearing about Ozzy’s declining health for some time, and it has been upsetting. You have to understand, this man lives for the stage, lives for the crowd, lives to entertain, and needs the love and energy he receives from doing it. Sound familiar?! Look, there is a rare group of people who are born to do this; they have no choice. It is like a beating heart. So yes, knowing that Ozzy has been in such poor physical health, knowing that he could not tour or perform or even get onto a stage for some time, was heartbreaking. And the fact that thanks to training, an incredible amount of work, and sheer willpower, he had created the physical fortitude to get up there and entertain us one more time was hugely special.
 

It was also all incredibly real.

I’ve read the usual assholes and cynics questioning if he was being “made” to do it.** What bullshit! Imagine if someone asked whether you were forced to make your heart beat. It’s the same question. THIS is who HE is and what HE NEEDED, and everyone should be delighted he got to have it, and that we got to bear witness.

One more thing which thoroughly aggravated me: some people have said that they didn’t want to remember Ozzy “this way.”

What way?

The human way?

The way which shows his true journey?

The way which presents who he is now as opposed to some air-brushed, nipped and tucked, AI creation pretending we never age or ever suffer?

Fuck that.


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin

I think what Ozzy did with Back to the Beginning was beautiful, a true act of defiance, where his eternal soul told his current 76-year-old body to “fuck off” so as he could do what he needed to do so badly. And if you’re too selfish to love someone for their entire journey in its real-time stages, then that is your problem, not theirs and not mine.

The Sabbath soundcheck that night was electric. There weren’t many in Villa Park to witness it. Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, and Bill’s friends and families; Lars, Jess, Myles, and Layne; Rob, Chloe, Tye, and Lullah; Zakk Wylde, Mike Bordin, and maybe a dozen other people saw some unforgettable moments. Like when Sabbath ran through “Into the Void” instrumentally (Bill Ward’s pocket, oh my God, slightly slower but swinging like a canyon rope bridge in a gale). When Ozzy appeared on his throne and they did “War Pigs,” there were tears, oh Lord, yes, there were tears because it was clear that Saturday was going to happen and happen well.

I had personally felt that Bill Ward being in the fold would be the final impetus for Ozzy to beat those physical demons into repose for this goodbye. Decades ago, it was frequently clear to me that Ozzy loved Bill dearly via the stories he told, and when I saw a photo Ross had taken of them during rehearsal a week earlier, there was so much rich happiness in Ozzy’s smile as he leaned on Ward’s shoulder. But you don’t know until you know. So that “War Pigs” during the Thursday night rehearsal—that was huge…

…By the way, Geezer is a huge Aston Villa supporter, and in his dressing room (which was set up in the Aston Villa team’s home dressing room), a Villa shirt with his name and the number 1 on it hung between two of the first-team lockers. He proclaimed it all to be “one of the best things ever,” and put the shirt on a little later; I wonder if he’s still wearing it now?!

Take a moment, if you will, to reflect on Geezer. I wonder if there’s been a more consistently prophetic lyricist when it comes to documenting the environment, the state of the planet overall, and mental health. Look back over the words—they’re bordering on biblical in their timeless relevance.


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin

THIRD ENTRY | THURSDAY, JULY 10
On Saturday, Team ’Tallica rolled into Villa Park at around 1:30 PM to find a show already in full swing… 45,000 fans in the stadium, Mastodon having thrown down a blinding “Supernaut,” Anthrax about to hit the stage.

Backstage was beautiful chaos (there were so many people!).

There was a Sabbath-ized Greggs food truck (for those not au fait with British cuisine, Greggs is a hot pies and pastries emporium), a coffee stand, a media center, catering, a massive outdoor screen placed against a fence showing everything happening onstage only a few hundred feet away, vehicles mazing in and out…

There was Mike Inez.

Oh look, Phil Anselmo.

Where’s James heading off to?

Steven Tyler, just hanging out.

Is that Axl Rose milling about on the stairs among several dozen people smiling and chatting?

You couldn’t go anywhere without running into someone; all of it was pretty surreal.

With regards to Metallica, everyone engaged with the occasion differently, yet with the same deep sense of appreciation. James was catching as many performers as possible, Lars was finding space and peace to lock in on his pre-show routine as best as he could, Rob was here and there saying hellos and watching bands, and I honestly did not see what Kirk was getting up to other than looking as fly as ever, smiling a lot, and ending up amidst a whole pile of Gibson guitars which popped up on display for some photos featuring Kirk and K.K. Downing, among others…

…I’ll spare us a review of each band, supergroup, and act (you’ve seen them all by now), but do allow me a couple. Yungblud—an artist whose name I’d heard but shamefully not invested too much energy into—sprung up looking like a Batman villain, yet one verse and chorus into “Changes,” and this crane-necked motherfucker had my jaw on the floor in a way I haven’t experienced for a long, long time. He was sensational. I will never hear that song the same way again, and I am all-in on Yungblud from now on. Nuno Bettencourt was another absolute all-star. Playing through a range of Sabbath and Ozzy songs, not to mention sharing his chops with Tyler, Morello, and Ron Wood on “Train Kept A Rollin’,” “Walk This Way,” and “Whole Lotta Love,” Bettencourt was effortless and fluid, a huge presence all day yet not at all overbearing. And then we had Jason Momoa, the “kid” who won a Grand Prize, which was essentially “you get to host this gig with a Sabbath t-shirt, shit-eating grin, and direct line to mosh-pit from the stage.” I mean, does any celebrity/actor love metal more than this towering hairy hunk of grinning guffaws and fuck yeahs? I don’t think so…


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin

…I watched Metallica from out front (where I ran into Metfamily Christina and Tom on one of the rails). It’s safe to say that our guys know how to put a set together, because this was a series of heavyweight punches landing in the sweet-spot time after time. Opening with “Hole in the Sky” was a great shout, the groove and swing behind that mighty riff dragging the crowd right in, so as when they got to delivering “Johnny Blade”—which I can safely say was unexpected by most—they were flying. As Rob said on that week’s episode of The Metallica Report, they like a challenge. Closing with “Battery” and “Master of Puppets,” as I looked back at the fans going off all over Villa Park, I briefly felt I was seeing a Metallica headline gig (there were lots of hands in the air and arses off seats); however, that feeling ended as the band left the stage. Because, I’ll say it again, this was unequivocally about one band and one man…

…We were down to the final two performances. Everyone was on tenterhooks as Ozzy appeared with Zakk, Mike Inez, Adam Wakeman on keyboard, and Tommy Clufetos (sadly, Randy Castillo, the drummer for that 1991 Ozzy band, has long passed). Of all the sets and all the moments, this was the most emotional for me. Maybe it was because Ozzy was finally there, in his throne, fighting that fucking body every inch of the way, wrestling tooth and nail to deliver. He had a water gun contraption with which he sprayed a few people. In that moment, I was transported back to No More Tours in 1992, running from him as he came at me with buckets of water, finally taking the hit of a full one and turning around to see his eyes pinwheeling, laughing manically, and gesturing that he “fucking got [me]!” …As “Suicide Solution” roared, I felt my first rush of tears, which for some reason I suppressed… Why? Why? Fuck, even as I’m writing this, I’m welling up. Because it won’t happen again; I’ll never see him sing that again, and you won’t either…

As his voice creaked with emotional fatigue during “Mama I’m Coming Home,” those tears came freely for so many of us. We watched him fight to regain control again, Zakk Wylde going over to guide him through to the other side like the noblest of partners, and when he ended with “Crazy Train,” it was as much about defiance as anything else, because Ozzy challenged his own voice and kicked it back into shape with pure will, adrenaline and mojo.


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin

…Osbourne, Iommi, Butler, Ward.

Each and every person, outsider, freak, and geek at Villa Park (both on the stage and in the crowd) carried deep stories as to what those four men have done for their lives… for our lives. “War Pigs,” “N.I.B.,” “Iron Man,” “Paranoid”—four ubiquitous anthems among the many legendary Sabbath songs we adore—a fitting quartet for this farewell. We all saw Ozzy fighting that bastard body hard again, throwing his arms in the air before trying to get up out of the throne a few times as the energy coursed through him. The bitter and the sweet, the yin/yang thing, and on this occasion, it was important to drink in every moment, in that moment. Here were Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, and Bill getting to close their collective Black Sabbath lives together in the very streets they were born together in. That’s a rare and precious thing. Bill Ward removing his shirt was glorious, no really, it fucking was. He actually looked for all the world like a serene, omnipotent metal Buddha. Before we could register, the band that gave us heavy metal music delivered their final goodbye with “Paranoid”…

…In the minutes after those final notes of “Paranoid,” I was (again) just trying to take everything in backstage. I got a few words for the pod from the eternally generous Rob Trujillo, saw Lars in his bathrobe chatting with Tom Araya, James was grinning like a teenage Cheshire Cat with Addy and assorted family, Kirk was talking with Slash, I think? Rob said we should go to the after-show party, and for a moment I thought about it… But truth be told, I felt utterly overwhelmed. So, as he headed off to join the post-event celebrations, I quietly slipped away.

FOOTNOTE
It is July 10, and as you do, I quickly hop onto Google.

I am instantly (algorithmically!) fed an Ozzy story. This one, however, is not about Back to The Beginning.

The actual headline in the UK paper The Guardian reads “Ozzy Osbourne Collaborates with Chimpanzees on Abstract Expressionist Paintings,” with an accompanying photo of the paintings, Ozzy smiling in front of them and holding a peeled banana. The story goes on to say that Ozzy is auctioning some of his paintings to raise funds for a Florida chimp sanctuary, and these paintings are a joint venture between Ozzy and some chimps, as in Ozzy painted them with chimps adding their craft to the works.

It is fucking wonderful. Ozzy’s always loved animals. And now I know that everything is going to be alright…

*Aston is in Birmingham City Centre but is considered a “ward” or “district.” Translation would be a neighborhood.
**It should also be noted that Back to the Beginning was a massively successful fundraiser benefiting three charities close to Ozzy’s heart: Birmingham Children’s Hospital, Acorn Children’s Hospice, and Cure Parkinson’s.


Photo Credit: Ross Halfin


EPILOGUE | TUESDAY, JULY 22
…and now he’s gone.

I just looked back at my first journal entry from Monday, July 7, at the top of this piece, and when I said I knew there’d be more tears to come, I did not imagine they would be because Ozzy has gone.

I then looked at my last entry about the art and chimp sanctuary, saying, "And now I know that everything is going to be alright…”

I was clearly not ready for him to leave.
 
None of us were… none of us are…

That he got to say goodbye to the stage he loved so dearly with his Aston brothers is a blessing we can maybe appreciate even more today.

We will, of course, miss the music, the voice, and the presence.

But I will also miss him…

...the humour…

…the sweetness of soul...

…the honesty…

…and just knowing that he was being him in this crazy fucked up world.

He was a man everyone said was crazy, yet to me he often seemed like the sanest person in the room.

We will always love you, Ozzy.

Thank you for everything, all of it, from the music to the quiet times, and yes, some of the crazier ones too.



Here are 31 of my favorite Ozzy performances and songs. I have found myself gravitating away from some of the classics, not because I don’t love them, but because some of the deeper moments in songs such as “The Writ” really speak to me right now.

Enjoy and play loud...