Mama, Ozzy's Gone Home

The GOAT has been laid to rest. The city of Birmingham paid tribute to the Clown Prince of Rock n' Roll, with the kind of funeral procession usually reserved for the parasitical Royal Family. The GOAT is gone, but we still have the memories and the music.

Although Sharon gets a lot of stick from metal fans - some of it deserved, a lot of it not - you can't deny all she did for Ozzy and for Metal in general. Whatever their up's and down's over the years, they truly seemed to love each other, and built a strong family and a major brand together. I seriously don't think heavy metal would have survived over the years without her.

Remember the kind of shape he was in when Sharon first met him. Without her ideas and energy, Ozzy would probably just be a footnote now. And, come to think of it, he probably wouldn't have outlived the Seventies.

Me, I always enjoyed Ozzy solo stuff, but it was Black Sabbath that fired my young imagination. And here is where I first got to see them in action, on the old Don Kirshner's Rock Concert. I still remember watching this with my mother and boyfriend, and reveling in their disgusted expressions. 

My mother even said, "He's so gay." If you can believe that.

And here are the natural facts. I like all kinds of Metal, but I remember watching the Sabs 1999 reunion show and thinking that no one ever improved on the originals. And nobody ever equaled that from the gut heaviness that Bill Ward and Geezer laid down.

And I wasn't kidding: the Sabs not only laid down the foundations for all heavy metal to come, they did the same for punk rock. Everyone I knew on the old punk scene in Boston grew up listening to Black Sabbath, and the proof is in the pudding.

Apparently, the same can be said for LA punks as well.

Despite their caveman/troglodyte reputation, The Sabs were always more versatile than they ever got credit for. This is a track that Led Zeppelin wished they wrote, along with a million other blues-influenced rock groups.

Bill Ward and Geezer cut their teeth on R&B and soul music, and that groove is what always set them apart from all the other metal merchants. At the heart of it, the Sabs could swing.

The Sabs were also old-school working class Brits, who were never afraid to throw hands if the need arose. This track - which isn't about little elves, but actually about a ruck the band had with some local skinheads - confirms this. But you could tell by the way they attacked their instruments that they were no shrinking violets.

I played side one of Master of Reality so many times back in the day that I think the vinyl became translucent. But this song - and maybe even this performance - would be my go-to example if space aliens ever landed and asked me to explain what this whole "heavy metal" thing was all about.

One thing that may be hard for younger people to understand was how intensely hated Black Sabbath were by rock critics of the time. I mean, just think of how the media feels about Trump today, then multiply that by a thousand.

The reason being is that the mainstream music press was dominated by early Boomers, who felt that any hard rock made after 1968 was counter-revolutionary and rockist. And for some reason, the Sabs took the worst of it unbridled contempt from all those worthless pussies.

But pretty much every great hard rock band/album from the 70s got dumped on. It was an absolute disgrace.

And no matter how hard the Sabs and other bands tried to please the stuck-up sickbags at aging hippie rags like Rolling Stone, by recording more expansive kinds of albums like Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, the hatred only got worse.

Remember what the great sage David Lee of Roth once said: "The reason Rock critics all love Elvis Costello and hate Van Halen is because all rock critics look like Elvis Costello."

I loved Elvis Costello too, but his point is still well taken.

It's too insane to wrap my head around, but Sabotage was released FIFTY YEARS AGO this week. This is most definitely my favorite Sabbath album of all time, and Geezer's acid trip lyrics absolutely burned themselves into my consciousness along with all those sick riffs.

Especially the lyrics for this proto-speed metal stormer. 

To be honest, I still often catch myself thinking about those lines, since the rich and surreal imagery burned itself into the deepest reaches of my unconscious at the right time. And by that I mean they did so when I was hallucinating on a regular basis, due to crazy-high fevers in the 104-106ºF range. 

How I didn't die is still a mystery to me. But it certainly rewired my brains.

The thing I love about Sabotage is the same thing I love about all my favorite records. It's more a collection of suites than mere songs. I love records that take you on a journey, with tracks that do more than lock themselves into one groove and one or two riffs. I guess it's because I came of musical age during the prog/art rock era. 

"Supertzar" is a great example of this vibe, and I still think of reading old Lee/Kirby Thor comics every time I hear it. There's something cosmic at work here, which fascinates me given the incredible stress and conflict ripping the band apart at the time.

Unlike a lot of fans, I really like the more expansive Sabbath. To this day, I can't understand the hate for Technical Ecstasy, since it's essentially working the same vein as Sabotage. And it and Never Say Die are very much precursors to the work Ozzy would do after leaving the band. Plus, they're still heavy as hell, even with the major keys popping up.

This is a great example. This is a killer track that builds on Slade, and prefigures Big Country. It's also catchy as hell, and should have been a hit. Hell, it should be a standard by now.

I'll never forget how Geezer responded to criticisms of these last two Seventies albums: he said that he never signed anything that said he had to make the same record over and over. 

Listen, there's nothing more I hate than when bands become the exact opposite of what they started out as (cough, Combat Rock, cough), but those records still feel like classic Sabbath to me. Call me crazy.

As I said, I always enjoyed Ozzy solo, but Blizzard of Ozz came around at a time when I was an ideological "Year Zero" punk rocker, and all my enemies in school were Ozzy heads. But I also kind of felt loyal to my preteen experience with Black Sabbath, and I've always had a weird thing about solo records and post-breakup bands from my favorite acts. Maybe it's on account of being a child of divorce.

It's the same way I enjoyed the post-Ozzy Sabbath, up to and including Born Again, but it never felt quite the same. I've never been averse to most bands changing personnel, but you always got the sense that Ozzy and Sabbath were predetermined at the dawn of time. They belonged together.

Still, who couldn't love Ozzy? The guy was as pure as soul as it gets. It wasn't his fault that a bunch of his fans were douches and dicks. And even the post-Randy Rhoads material still had that irresistible Ozzy charm, like this killer single.

That said, I was always happy when the original Sabs took the stage, which they would do a number of times over the years. Being a bit of a purist, I wasn't all that interested in anything that didn't include Bill Ward, even if it was a drummer I really liked, such as Faith No More's Mike Borden. To me, Sabbath was those four guys, and Bill Ward was the heart and soul of the band. 

Hell, they ALL were the heart and soul of the band, in the same way as The Beatles or Queen. 

And I didn't really pay much mind to The Osbournes, even if it was the biggest thing going on cable TV at the time. I wasn't watching a lot of TV to begin with, and so-called "reality TV" is not only a contradiction in terms, it actually makes me nauseous if I ever happen to see any of it. Not sure why, it's just an autonomic revulsion.

In any event, let's all wish a bountiful journey and a fortunate rebirth to an absolute one-of-a-kind. If you were around for Ozzy's glory days, count yourself blessed. We may never see his like again.