Ozzy will never stomp around a stage again. And nobody will stomp around like him. His dark, divine power — a power that defined a definitive rock genre — dies with him.
As I watched Ozzy Osbourne stomp around the stage, I was convinced he had harnessed some dark, divine power. It was Black Sabbath’s 2016 Xfinity Center show in Mansfield. Ozzy was already 67, but he retained a scary charisma, perfect demonic scream, and profound commitment to the genre he invented. The singer, icon, and prince of darkness seemed immortal.
Ozzy Osbourne died Tuesday at 76. Just weeks ago he headlined a star-studded festival in his hometown, Birmingham, England, to celebrate the legacy of his band, Black Sabbath.
John Michael Osbourne committed to rock ‘n’ roll the minute he heard the Beatles. In 2018, on one of his many “final tours,” he told me what the kid who got his start loving the Fab Four and playing Birmingham pubs in 1967 would think of selling-out stadiums at the edge of his 60s.
“He would be really, really happy,” he said. “I didn’t think I would make it to 69 for a start. My wife, Sharon, has saved my life time after time.
