The prince is dead, long live heavy metal

Today, Ozzy Osbourne is laid to rest in Birmingham, and I must admit, his death affected me more than I thought it would. With deep gratitude, I am compelled to write a few words about the man who conjured the spirit of metal into the world all those years ago.

Ozzy was an anomaly. Heavy metal idolizes guitar players and celebrates instrumentals, yet his voice served as metal’s founding force. His singing was unique, neither operatic nor guttural, transcending the more extreme vocal styles that would later define the genre. After his time in Black Sabbath, he bridged metal’s working-class roots with the neoclassical riffing that shaped modern metal, most notably with the late Randy Rhoads.

Despite his popularity, he didn’t distance himself from underground metal the way that Metallica did. He leaned into the weirdness and created Ozzfest, an annual festival that made goth kids’ dreams come true and helped propel unknown bands like Slipknot to popularity. It was my first, and most memorable, metal show back in 2001.

His stint as a realty TV star was remarkably authentic and it proved what everybody in the metal community already knew. Behind the scary Satanic aesthetic are kind, funny, and endearing people. He was truly one of us.

Ozzy was an imperfect man, known as much for his bizarre behavior as for his music. His struggles with drug addiction, his infamous encounters with winged creatures, and his tumultuous relationship with wife Sharon, complicated his wildly successful career and lasting impact on popular culture. Yet, as his son Jack once said, “his contributions have been far greater than any of his faults.” That’s the kind of legacy we all hope for.

Tune in to hear my favorite Ozzy Osbourne track when I guest host NCPR’s Three O’clock Special on November 1st.