THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS

Jason remembers Ozzy.

As a child, I had two great loves, both of which have remained with me throughout every single stage of my life, and equally have been responsible for shaping and creating damn near my entire personality, as there is no way I’d still be the person that I am today without the influence of either. The first is the world of horror and all things spooky, and while I usually spend my time and wordcount here discussing and honoring that part of myself, today I would like to talk about the other love, one that has walked me through every difficulty that I’ve ever faced, and has personally carried me through every tragedy.

Today, we talk Heavy Metal, and in particular, one man, who was not only instrumental in its creation, but has remained the single most iconic and influential voice in the history of this art that means so much to all of us here.

I am of course talking about Ozzy Osbourne…The Prince of Darkness.

When I was five years old, I discovered a vinyl copy of the Heavy Metal soundtrack in my mother’s collection and based on just the coolness of the cover (a practice that still follows me to this day in choosing new albums) I absolutely had to hear it. While there are plenty of great songs to be found there, one in particular caught my attention, and demanded to be played on repeat until I’m sure that I drove every single person in that house insane. That song was Iron Man, and the band that played it was Black Sabbath. I can remember being slightly older, probably seven or so, and finding a cassette copy of We Sold Our Soul For Rock and Roll at a Best Buy of all places, and begging my mother for it until she bought it for me, which again, I kept in my Walkman, play, flip, repeat, until it finally gave out and would play no more. So many songs there embedded themselves into my brain, playing on repeat, never growing old and demanding to be played again.

Of course, by this time, Ozzy had struck out as a solo artist, only I didn’t realize that they were the same person, as I knew Ozzy by reputation only, a mythology that would make him seem equally enticing and terrifying to this young child. Stories of drug abuse, beheaded bats, songs to make people commit suicide, songs praising famous Satanists and insanity were repeated constantly on the MTV news which my mom kept playing at all times, but they didn’t play the songs, using him more as a prop to boost ratings than themselves as a channel to boost music. It wouldn’t be until the year of 1989, which at this time found me as fully entrenched in the Heavy Metal lifestyle as a nine year old could be, when I came across a cassette copy of Diary of a Madman at a Walmart of all places, and knew that I was finally ready to discover the music behind the stories, and since this one didn’t feature Suicide Solution, I assumed that I was safe from any sort of danger from listening to it.

I was wrong…

The music on that album, which remains my personal favorite of his solo releases, changed my entire life. After opening the tape and carefully going through all of the included documents, I placed it into the tape deck of the small stereo that I had in my room and didn’t move for the entirety of its playtime, and as soon as it ended, as with Sabbath, I flipped it and started again. There isn’t a bad note to be found on the entire album, with Ozzy’s voice soaring high, matching the brilliant compositions being played by a young guitarist who was just beginning his own career, a career that had been tragically cut short years before the night in question, Mr. Randy Rhoades, who managed to make his instrument sound just as sinister as Tony Iommi had, but in an entirely different way. It was there, at the end of that album that I discovered my favorite Ozzy song to this day, that being Diary of a Madman, a haunting ride describing insanity, depression and the horrors that can exist inside of one’s own brain.

This led me to a deep dive, where I had to have them all, and quickly collected as much of his music as I could, starting with Blizzard of Ozz, which I’m pleased to announce that I managed to survive Suicide Solution once I finally worked up the nerve to listen to it. Bark at the Moon followed by The Ultimate Sin were next, both a more keyboard heavy and updated version of his music, but still retaining the heaviness of past efforts, and both held down by that voice, which never lost any of its power and magnetism. No Rest for the Wicked came next, which was easily his heaviest release since Sabbath, and again introduced the world to an aspiring guitar player who would become legendary in his own way, Zakk Wylde.

It was however the album that followed that truly cemented him in the mind of the masses, in the same year that Metallica became a household name. No More Tears played everywhere, and as soon as it became less prolific, Mama, I’m Coming Home slid right into its place and remained there, a constant that remains to this day. It was also at this time that radio stations finally discovered his past music, mixing Crazy Train and I Don’t Know into their rotations, and occasionally Bark at the Moon or Shot in the Dark if one were truly lucky. This was also around the time that I got suspended from middle school for wearing the Ozzy on a cross shirt, which they confiscated, and which adult me bought another copy of as soon as he could, where it still remains in my collection.

It was the end of that decade when the world exploded with Ozzymania, due to a reality show featuring him and his family, and a festival carrying his namesake, which helped to introduce the world to bands that we might not have found otherwise, and the list of bands that owe him for their career, either due to Ozzfest or because he took them on the road as openers could fill an entire wing of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and include such luminaries as Motley Crue, Metallica, System of a Down and Alice in Chains. The stories that all of these bands tell about him are similar, mixing the insanity that he was known for with a side most of us didn’t recognize at the time. They spoke of his kindness, and generosity, and brilliant sense of humor. They told us about the crazy things that he would do while on tour, making sure that no matter how rock and roll those bands were, that they remembered that there was only one madman, and only one Ozzy. Aside from that long list of bands that he helped to get their start, there is an even longer list that wouldn’t exist at all if not for the music of Black Sabbath and Ozzy, beginning with every single Doom band that has ever been, and extending to most of the more hard rock oriented bands of the last decade. I have zero hesitation in calling him the single most influential singer that’s ever existed, and I’m pretty sure that every one of those bands would back me up on that claim.

Stories of health problems started circulating over two decades ago, following an ATV crash and a botched spinal surgery, but every single time he managed to come back, to prove the rumors wrong. To remind the world that he’s Ozzy Fucking Osbourne, and that legends never die. Until recently, when it was disclosed that he had been diagnosed with Parkinsons Disease, and probably wouldn’t be able to perform again, but still he somehow showed his critics and naysayers his middle finger and told them to fuck right off by releasing his strongest album since No More Tears. Soon afterward, the rumor mill started up again, but this time the story included Ozzy wanting one last show, reunited with the original members of Black Sabbath for the first time in twenty years.

And on July fifth, just seventeen days ago, this dream became a reality. A full day concert with multiple bands honoring the legacy of Black Sabbath, and of Ozzy, in front of 45,000 people in attendance and millions streaming the event, Ozzy took the stage for the final time. Confined to a throne due to the inability to walk, although you could see him repeatedly struggling to stand and command the stage as he had for his entire life, he looked frail, but none of that frailty seemed to reach his voice, powering through a small solo set, which included bringing the majority of the people watching to tears during Mama, I’m Coming Home, before reuniting with the three men that he originally started this journey with, and giving us all a brilliant rendition of those songs that had touch each one of our lives, and paved the way for the birth of Heavy Metal. I’ve seen Sabbath on a few occasions, and every time it feels as reverential as any church service, and on that day, the pews were packed, and everyone knew every word to every hymn. It was the greatest goodbye that we could give while not knowing that we were saying goodbye.

This morning, news came in that Ozzy had passed away, in his bed surrounded by his family, and I don’t know that I’ve ever felt a bigger gut punch over someone that I’ve never met leaving us. Honestly, I didn’t think it would ever happen. That Ozzy was some mutant that was immortal and would outlive us all, a vampire that exists on music and crowd roar. That after all of the abuse that he had put himself through that he had somehow managed to find the key to cheating Death, and that for as long as there was music, Ozzy would be out there somewhere creating it. But no, and in his absence, we have decades of music to look back on, and introduce our children to, children that might find the same inspiration in those songs that we all did. We have the stories, which one day will seem folklore, stories about this larger-than-life man that screamed at all of us to “Go Fucking Crazy” and lead the way, pushing boundaries of acceptable behavior as only he could. I look forward to the day that my daughter asks me about the framed Black Sabbath poster that hangs over my bed, and I get to sit her down and introduce her to this music, and the legend that sang it. The bright side is that no matter how many times she wants to listen to Iron Man, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of playing it for her.

“I Heard Them Tell Me That This Land of Dreams Was Now

I Told Them I Had Ridden Shooting Stars and Said I’d Show Them How”

And you did…thank you so much for everything. R.I.P.

John Michael “Ozzy” Osbourne (1948 – 2025)

Jason Kuykendall has been a horror fan since the age of two, when his mother sat him down in front of When a Stranger Calls, so she began using horror movies as a babysitter. His favorite job was a mom and pop video store that he worked at when he was sixteen. He runs Creepy Bat Book Review but is thinking about firing and replacing himself due to how slack he’s become in his work. He’s made of 85% tattoos, 35% compassion, and 69% spite, and he also doesn’t understand math. He won’t pet your service dog, but he really, really wants to.