Ozzy Osbourne, godfather of heavy metal who led Black Sabbath, dies at 76
Either clad in black or bare-chested, the singer was often the target of parents' groups for his imagery and once caused an uproar for biting the head off a bat. Later, he would reveal himself to be a doddering and sweet father on the reality TV show 'The Osbournes.'
Black Sabbath's 1969 self-titled debut LP has been likened to the Big Bang of heavy metal. It came during the height of the Vietnam War and crashed the hippie party, dripping menace and foreboding.
The band's second album, 'Paranoid,' included such classic tunes as 'War Pigs,' 'Iron Man' and 'Fairies Wear Boots.' The song 'Paranoid' only reached No. 61 on the Billboard Hot 100 but became in many ways the band's signature song. Both albums were voted among the top 10 greatest heavy metal albums of all time by readers of Rolling Stone magazine.
'Black Sabbath are the Beatles of heavy metal. Anybody who's serious about metal will tell you it all comes down to Sabbath,' Dave Navarro of the band Jane's Addiction wrote in a 2010 tribute in Rolling Stone.
Sabbath fired Osbourne in 1979 for his legendary excesses, like showing up late for rehearsals and missing gigs. He reemerged the next year as a solo artist with 'Blizzard of Ozz' and the following year's 'Diary of a Madman,' both hard rock classics that went multi-platinum and spawned enduring favorites such as 'Crazy Train,' 'Goodbye to Romance,' 'Flying High Again' and 'You Can't Kill Rock and Roll.' Osbourne was twice inducted to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame — once with Sabbath in 2006 and again in 2024 as a solo artist.
The original Sabbath lineup reunited for the first time in 20 years in July 2025 in the U.K. for what Osbourne said was his final concert. 'Let the madness begin!' he told 42,000 fans.
Metallica, Guns N Roses, Slayer, Tool, Pantera, Gojira, Alice in Chains, Lamb of God, Halestorm, Anthrax, Rival Sons and Mastodon did sets. Tom Morello, Steven Tyler, Billy Corgan, Ronnie Wood, Travis Barker, Sammy Hagar, Yungblud and Vernon Reid made appearances.
Osbourne embodied the excesses of metal. His outlandish exploits included relieving himself on the Alamo, snorting a line of ants off a sidewalk and, most memorably, biting the head off a live bat that a fan threw onstage during a 1981 concert. (He said he thought it was rubber.)
Osbourne was sued in 1987 by parents of a 19-year-old teen who died by suicide while listening to his song 'Suicide Solution.' The lawsuit was dismissed. Osbourne said the song was really about the dangers of alcohol, which caused the death of his friend Bon Scott, lead singer of AC/DC.
Then-Cardinal John J. O'Connor of New York claimed in 1990 that Osbourne's songs led to demonic possession and even suicide. 'You are ignorant about the true meaning of my songs,' the singer wrote back. 'You have also insulted the intelligence of rock fans all over the world.'
Audiences at Osbourne shows could be mooned or spit on by the singer, but the Satan-invoking Osbourne would usually send the crowds home with their ears ringing and a hearty 'God bless!'
He started an annual tour — Ozzfest — in 1996 after he was rejected from the lineup of what was then the top touring music festival, Lollapalooza. Ozzfest would host such bands as Slipknot, Tool, Megadeth, Rob Zombie, System of a Down, Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park.
In 2013, he reunited with Black Sabbath for the dour, raw '13,' which reached No. 1 on the U.K. Albums Chart. In 2019, he had a Top 10 hit when featured on Post Malone's 'Take What You Want,' Osbourne's first song in the Top 10 since 1989.
In 2020, he released the album 'Ordinary Man,' which had as its title song a duet with Elton John. 'I've been a bad guy, been higher than the blue sky/And the truth is I don't wanna die an ordinary man,' he sang. In 2022, he landed his first career back-to-back No. 1 rock radio singles from his album 'Patient Number 9,' which featured collaborations with Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, Robert Trujillo and Duff McKagan. t earned four Grammy nominations, winning two. (Osbourne won five Grammys over his lifetime.)
At the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony in 2024, Jack Black called him 'greatest frontman in the history of rock 'n' roll' and 'the Jack Nicholson of rock.'
John Michael Osbourne was raised in the gritty city of Birmingham, England. Kids in school nicknamed him Ozzy, short for his surname.
In the late 1960s, Osbourne teamed up with bassist Terry 'Geezer' Butler, guitarist Tony Iommi and drummer Bill Ward. They named themselves after the American title of the classic Italian horror movie 'I Tre Volti Della Paura,' starring Boris Karloff: Black Sabbath.
The music was all about industrial guitar riffs and disorienting changes in time signatures, along with lyrics that spoke of alienation and doom. 'All day long I think of things but nothing seems to satisfy/Think I'll lose my mind if I don't find something to pacify,' Osbourne sang in one song.
The Guardian in 2009 said the band 'introduced working-class anger, stoner sludge grooves and witchy horror-rock to flower power."
Much later, a wholesome Osbourne would be revealed when 'The Osbournes,' which ran on MTV from 2002-2005, showed this one-time self-proclaimed madman drinking Diet Cokes as he struggled to find the History Channel on his new satellite television.
He is survived by Sharon, and his children.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Guardian
33 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘They're rowdy. They're vibing. I rip my shirt off': the exploding career of Hanumankind, India's hottest rapper
Two weeks ago, halfway through his first ever UK show, Hanumankind instructed the crowd to mimic him by hopping to the right then to the left, back and forth, in unison. But the rapper from India slipped and fell, limping to the end of the gig in evident pain, kept upright by his DJ and inspired by the audience's singalong familiarity with his catalogue. 'We were ready to have a good time,' he sheepishly grins from an armchair at his record label's offices three days later. It turns out he has torn a ligament. 'It was a battle of internal turmoil. The show was like a fifth of what it was meant to be, but I gave it my all. London has a beautiful energy which gave me strength.' Even without the leg injury, the 32-year-old star, who was born Sooraj Cherukat, has reached a testing threshold in his short, explosive career. His tracks Big Dawgs and Run It Up, helped by action-movie music videos, have made him one of the most talked-about MCs in the world. A$AP Rocky and Fred Again are among his recent collaborators. Indian prime minister Narendra Modi even invited Cherukat to perform at an event in New York last September. But as a rare south Asian face in globally popular rap, he feels a certain responsibility. 'The past year has been hard,' he says. 'I'm trying to navigate through it.' What's more, although he expresses a deep pride about life in India, 'a lot of things are off. There is a mob mentality. There's a lot of divisiveness because of religion, background, caste. It doesn't sit well with me. I'm in a unique space to change the way people can think within my country.' Born in Malappuram, Kerala, which he remembers as a 'green, beautiful environment', Cherukat spent his childhood following his father's work abroad, from Nigeria to Saudi Arabia to Britain. 'We'd traverse different countries and I'd sing songs in whatever language I was picking up,' he says. 'Wherever I went, I had to get involved and be ready to leave. I learned to connect with people. That's why the power of the word is so important to me.' At the age of 10, he landed in Houston, Texas, and found a rare stability. It was the early 2000s and the city was an engine room for rap innovation. Cherukat's set his accent to a southern drawl. Already a fan of heavy metal – which makes sense given his grungy, rockstar leanings today – he became hooked on the local chopped-and-screwed subgenre pioneered by DJ Screw, Three 6 Mafia and Project Pat. In his teens he was 'burning CDs full of beats, riding around smoking blunts and hitting hard freestyles'. He returned to south India just before hitting 20. 'The only place I had roots,' he says. He completed a university degree in Coimbatore, Tamil Nadu, before working a corporate job in the tech hub of Bengaluru. Seeing rap as 'a party thing, a way to de-stress and stay connected to the art form', he performed at open-mic nights, softening his US accent and perfecting his stage show for an Indian audience. 'Friends would come to watch and be like, 'Dude, you're not bad. You should lock in.'' So he did. At the end of 2019, Cherukat played his first festival: NH7 Weekender in Pune, Maharashtra. The crowd went wild, quickly morphing from a small handful into a packed moshpit. 'They're rowdy and they're fucking vibing,' he says. 'I rip my shirt off. I'm like, 'OK, I can do this!'' He quit his job and began plotting his next move, filling notebooks with lyrics throughout the pandemic. These are a blend of cheek and grit delivered with a flow that keeps respawning at different speeds and scales. Soon, Cherukat was signed by Def Jam India. Part of a movement to reject the remnants of British colonialism in favour of local expression, the proud, rebellious patchwork of Indian hip-hop encompasses the vast country's 'hundreds of languages, each as deeply rooted as the next', Cherukat explains. 'Someone who speaks Hindi or another regional language will give you a vast amount of depth and detail in what they're doing.' His decision to rap mostly in English therefore came with risks of being perceived as inauthentic at home, but it has certainly helped his global crossover. Besides, he has found other ways to communicate a homegrown aesthetic. Run It Up marches to the beat of Keralan chenda drums, while its video features martial artists from disparate corners of India. Cherukat performed it with a band of drummers at Coachella festival, his debut US gig. 'Most people don't know what is going on in my country,' he says. 'Maybe I can open up some doors, open up some eyes, break out of these bubbles and stereotypes.' Although not religious, Cherukat has a divine figure woven into his performing name. Over recent years, Hanuman, the simian-headed Hindu god of strength and devotion, has been employed everywhere from the car stickers of hypermasculine Indian nationalism to the bloody, satirical critique of Dev Patel's 2024 thriller, Monkey Man. Where does Hanumankind fit into this: traditionalist or progressive? 'I need to make music for myself first,' he says simply. 'But when you have a platform, you can bring about change through your words and actions.' Some fans were disappointed that he accepted the New York invitation from Modi – whose Hindu nationalist government has been accused of democratic backsliding and Islamophobia. Cherukat has defended his appearance, describing it as 'nothing political … We were called to represent the nation and we did that.' But today he claims his 'political ideology is pretty clear' to anyone who has been following his career. In one of his earliest singles, 2020's Catharsis, he rails against systemic corruption, police brutality and armed suppression of protest. 'I'm not just trying to speak to people who already agree with me,' he says. 'I'm trying to give people who are otherwise not going to be listening a chance to be like, 'OK, there is some logic to what he's saying.'' Monsoon Season, his new mixtape, is just out. It features the mellow likes of Holiday – performed on the massively popular YouTube series Colors – as well as raucous collaborations with US rap luminaries Denzel Curry and Maxo Kream. It is less a narrative album, more a compilation, with songs gathered over the years before the spotlight shone on him. 'I have a lot of memories of coming into Kerala during the monsoon,' says Cherukat of the project's name. 'You can have days where things are absolutely reckless, flooded, out of control. There can be days where you get introspective and think about life. There are days where you love the rain: it feels good, there's that smell in the air when it hits the mud, the soil, the flowers. Your senses are heightened. You can fall in love with that. Or it can ruin all your plans and you hate it.' Cherukat's knee will take some time to recover before he embarks on a North American tour later this year. It's clear he needs a break: not just to heal, but to continue processing fame, adapt to its changes and return to the studio. 'I'm still adjusting,' he says. 'The attention, the conversation, the responsibility, the lifestyle, all this shit. Things have been a little haywire. So I just want to go back to the source – and make music.' Monsoon Season is out now on Capitol Records/Def Jam India
The Guardian
33 minutes ago
- The Guardian
Kate Nash showcases her sleazy side: best podcasts of the week
Dig out the American Apparel dress, liquid eyeliner and Wayfarer sunglasses – the late 00s' indie sleaze movement is being celebrated for all its messy glory. Kate Nash – an OG sleazer – hosts this nostalgic new series about the scene, speaking to the likes of the Cribs' Ryan and Gary Jarman, Franz Ferdinand's Alex Kapranos and Razorlight's Johnny Borrell. It's enough to make you want to cut in a badly judged chunky fringe again. Hollie Richardson BBC Sounds, available from Monday 28 July This honest, conversational podcast breaks down taboos by talking to people about the loved ones they've lost. Host Jason Davidson is a social worker and in the latest episode Michael Palin (pictured right) talks to him about trying to come to terms with his wife's death – and why he feels it almost impossible to say 'I' instead of 'we'. It's a thoughtful look at his grief. Alexi Duggins Widely available, episodes weekly This enjoyably chatty look at the everyday products we take for granted combines history with product design. It opens with a look at the 'fabulous innovation' of the tin opener, running from how it wasn't created until 100 years after food tins were invented to its potential future: a luxury item, like 'the craft beer' of can-opening. AD Widely available, episodes weekly Keir Starmer may be in power now (and enjoying varying levels of success, depending on your views), but what of the Labour leaders of old? Izzy Conn of the University of London digs deep into the red team in this comprehensive pod, which begins after the second world war with Clement Attlee and the beginnings of the welfare state. Hannah J Davies Widely available, episodes weekly Sign up to What's On Get the best TV reviews, news and features in your inbox every Monday after newsletter promotion Widely available, episodes weekly This new podcast from Tortoise Investigates is about mothers who – like Australia's Kathleen Folbigg, whose case sets off this series – have been accused of murdering their children, and whether the experts are always right. The content is highly charged, but the questions it poses around the use of statistics in a court of law feel vital. HJD Widely available, episodes weekly
The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
England needed the ultimate team performance to beat world champions
It is a sight we have never seen, a senior England football team hoisting a major trophy in overseas air, an unparalleled away-from-home achievement, history made in Basel. And then there was the blissful soundtrack that accompanied it. That sweet, glorious sound of We Are The Champions being sung abroad by England and their supporters, Sarina Wiegman conducting everyone with her waving arms, and every England player and staff member belting out Queen's words. Wiegman is this sport's undisputed queen of coaching, winning this silverware three times in a row, and now the first England manager to successfully defend a trophy. The Dutchwoman is the greatest signing the Football Association has made. What this win was defined by, though, was a 'team', and on Sunday they produced the ultimate team performance to beat the world's best. The phrase these Lionesses players have been repeating since February, to describe the way they want to play, is 'proper England'. You could be forgiven for wondering: 'What does that mean?' Maybe they all love Yorkshire puddings, chips with curry sauce. Or maybe they are all really patient when queueing. Maybe they had a character-building evening together waiting for a delayed train from Euston station. What they do mean by that phrase can be summed up by their unwavering, never-say-die attitude, their refusal to give in, their endeavour. It is their banter, too. It is Ella Toone joking on Friday about the chances of Michelle Agyemang getting 'papped while eating a pasty'. Football-wise, it is their ability to execute a gameplan to perfection. Even if the shootout had gone Spain's way, there would have been so many aspects to this England performance for the nation to be proud of. Jess Carter, brought back into the starting XI a week after revealing she had been racially abused, was immense, winning duel after duel, courageous like no other, demonstrating her strength of character as well as the strength of her defending. Alongside her, Leah Williamson produced her best display of the tournament. This was the Williamson we had seen in the Champions League final, blocking cross after cross, timing her tackles well and reading the game to perfection with her positioning. Without the ball, the whole team worked tirelessly. For a short while, there was an understandable worry it might be in vain. At half-time, England fans who watch men's and women's football may have feared they were about to endure a near‑identical summer to that of 2024; watching a team saved by late goals in the knockout rounds, who sometimes could not click into gear but were boosted by game-changing substitutes who propelled them to the final, who would ultimately be beaten by a Spain side that were simply better. Not this time. This is not the same team. These are the Lionesses. These are – as Williamson suggested in a team meeting in 2019 – 'badass women'. This is a group of born winners who refuse to lose. They find a way. They always find a way. Chloe Kelly always finds a way to produce the inch-perfect cross. Alessia Russo who – like Williamson, Lotte Wubben-Moy, Beth Mead and Kelly, is now a club and European champion in the same summer – found the classy headed finish her excellent season for club and country had merited. Up against the most gifted set of players in the world, England required such intense levels of concentration defensively, for 120 minutes, and for all but one first-half moment, they found it. Alex Greenwood stood up to Vicky López. Lauren Hemp fought, terrier-like, on the wing. Georgia Stanway's tackles came crunching in. Spain just kept coming. The ball came back and back but England fought. Hannah Hampton's strong hands kept Clàudia Pina at bay. Importantly, it was the roles Khiara Keating, Anna Moorhouse, Maya Le Tissier and Wubben-Moy – none of whom played a minute of football in this tournament – that epitomised the unity in this team. None of them complaining, none of them causing any rifts in the camp. Le Tissier popped up to give Grace Clinton an energy gel before she went on in extra time. This is a real team. That spirit shows through the friends and families of the players, too, sitting directly behind the dugout, with Lucy Bronze's brother Jorge standing to urge the England fans to make more noise in extra time. The feeling was there in Agyemang, battling to win a late throw-in. It was Kelly's nerveless spot-kick that struck the net. As the song said: 'We'll keep on fighting 'til the end.' Sign up to Moving the Goalposts No topic is too small or too big for us to cover as we deliver a twice-weekly roundup of the wonderful world of women's football after newsletter promotion The lyrics we have not heard much, in this fabulously well-run tournament in Switzerland, are 'football's coming home' by Three Lions. It has not been played through the stadium speakers after victories here. Perhaps that is fitting; it is too melancholy a tune for this team of winners. This team are rewriting how we perceive English football success. This trophy is not coming home, it is staying home.
