Ethereal Metal

Ryan Murray | Co-Owner | Chief Editor | Contributor | Photographer

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Today, the world stopped spinning—just a little. According to a statement released by his family which can be seen here, Ozzy Osbourne has died at the age of 76, surrounded by his family and the love of a lifetime. The Prince of Darkness has taken his final bow. With his passing, the lightning bolt of heavy metal’s origin story has reached its last chord.

Born in Birmingham, Built from Chaos

Before the eyeliner, the theatrics, The Osbournes, and the tabloids, John Michael Osbourne was a working-class kid in Birmingham, England. In 1968 he joined Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler, and Bill Ward—and together they alchemized industrial dread into a new sound. Through tracks like “War Pigs,” “Iron Man,” and “Paranoid,” Black Sabbath didn’t just play metal—they defined it. And with that bizarre, prophetic voice, Ozzy became metal incarnate.

Thrown Out, Blown Up, Reborn

When Sabbath exiled him in 1979, Ozzy exploded. Blizzard of Ozz (1980) thrust him into the solo spotlight with anthems like “Crazy Train” and “Mr. Crowley,” backed by the virtuoso Randy Rhoads. The Ozzman was in full flight—navigating addiction, controversy, and explosive personal highs and lows—but always delivering.

The Godfather of Metal

Ozzy didn’t just shape a genre—he gave it oxygen. Metallica, Ghost, Slipknot, Pantera, Lamb of God—all owe their existence to his path. In the late ’90s, he co-founded Ozzfest, a traveling metal pilgrimage that resurrected an entire scene when mainstream media ignored it. He was the patron saint of rebellion.

Blood, Bone, and the Slow Fade

The 2003 quad-bike accident and a devastating Parkinson’s diagnosis in 2020 dimmed his body, but never his spirit. Spinal surgeries, infections, canceled tours—the war on Ozzy was relentless. Yet in 2020’s Ordinary Man and 2022’s Patient Number 9, he still roared, earning Grammys and praise.

The Last Goodbye: Villa Park, July 5, 2025

Just weeks before his final show, Ozzy told SiriusXM “By hook or by crook, I am going to make this f—ing gig if it is the last thing I do. Well, it will be.”  

At Birmingham’s Villa Park—mere miles from where Sabbath was formed—Ozzy gave his final performance. From a throne due to Parkinson’s immobility, he belted out five solo tracks before reuniting with Sabbath for “War Pigs,” “N.I.B.,” “Children of the Grave,” and “Paranoid.” The crowd of ~45,000 was joined by a global livestream estimated at 5.8 million viewers.

Live coverage from BBC’s Back to the Beginning reported confetti, fireworks, and an emotionally charged atmosphere. One BBC journalist captured it best:

“It’s the last song ever… thank you from the bottom of our hearts!

From the throne, Ozzy also said:

“You’ve no idea how I feel—thank you from the bottom of my heart.” 

Fans watched, cried, and understood: this was the end—with dignity, defiance, and an echo of pure metal.

Rest Easy, Madman

Ozzy was more than a singer. He was a force. A freak. An everyman’s hero and a metal legend. He belted out sorrow, rage, laughter, and dark humor with an authentic grit that made us feel alive, connected, and raw.

He inspired rebellion and resilience—showing us that a broken, scarred person could build something everlasting.

So thank you, Ozzy. For the riffs, the lunacy, the brokenness, the redemption—and the eternities you helped carve in sound.

“Come on, you people! Let me hear you!”

We still hear you.

And we always will.