Greetings from the rural wilds. Summer is pissing by but things are ok.

This month, I’m pleased to present the first part of a piece that I started working on last summer and then abandoned due to lack of momentum. It has continued to lurk, lodged in a nook in my mind, and after reading Geezer Butler’s Into the Void I committed to getting it exorcised.

Here, finally, is the multi-part treatment of the solo catalog of John Michael Osbourne.

With his death on July 22, 2025, the legend of Ozzy Osbourne is officially cemented. He looms over the rock and metal landscape like a distant mountain range. Works bearing his name and voice are foundational within the rock canon. He came to prominence as the face of Black Sabbath, shaping the vocal melodies that would carry Geezer Butler’s lyrics. His showmanship, honed on disastrous early tours and European residencies, helped sell it all to the world. The star of Black Sabbath burned bright for a short time and then declined before an onslaught of financial issues and crippling addiction, ultimately leading to Ozzy’s dismissal from the band and subsequent signing as a solo artist by Jet Records and the Arden family.

The twists and turns of Ozzy’s solo career are fascinating. I am a massive fan of the catalog, though it’s striking how little of it has to do with him directly. Each album bearing his name is a vehicle for the songwriting of others, over which his voice is added and his name stamped, and from which credit for the writing has regularly been extracted. The autobiography I Am Ozzy affirms his desire to be the boss of his new venture and not a co-equal band member. But given the heavy hand of his management in everything to come, it is hard to shake the impression that he was little more than a figurehead propped up by his handlers to keep the money flowing.

Necessarily, the following concerns the musical entity at the expense of the man. Much of the history comes from Off The Rails and I Am Ozzy, along with a bunch of internet sleuthing. Though it’s Ozzy voice and melodies atop every song, he’s not much more than the banner under which a constantly rotating lineup would do their work. Ozzy himself comes off largely as a passenger being moved forward without any semblance of control, stuck in the same kind of trap he had hoped to escape by becoming a singer in the first place.

Which brings us, finally, to our walk through Ozzy’s solo catalog.

Blizzard of Ozz (Jet, 1980)

By 1979, Ozzy had recorded eight albums and toured the world with Black Sabbath. He was fired after the Never Say Die! album, at odds with his bandmates and deep in the throes of addiction. Assuming the end of his singing career, Ozzy went on a months long bender in LA intent on blowing all of his money before returning to England to disappear. Enter Don Arden, who initially pushed for a reunited Black Sabbath but eventually signed Ozzy as a solo artist. Ozzy had had the idea for a band dubbed Blizzard of Ozz from before he left Black Sabbath, and after a spate of auditions the new band coalesced around Bob Daisley (Rainbow), Lee Kerslake (Uriah Heep), and Randy Rhoads (Quiet Riot).

Lots of folks will tell you that this is the best Ozzy solo album. I’m not one of them, though its quality and influence are undeniable. It establishes the mid-tempo rock with shreddy guitars and melodramatic keyboards that would persist until the Zakk Wylde era. Some of the best-loved entries in the entire rock canon make up over half of the album: “I Don’t Know,” “Crazy Train,” “Goodbye to Romance,” '“Suicide Solution,” and “Mr. Crowley,” all iconic and known by most everyone with even a casual interest in the genre. It’s not a metal record despite the guitars, and occupies a space where there are plenty of guitar acrobatics for the scholars and easy consumption for everyone else.

“I Don’t Know” comes swinging out of the gate with one of Randy’s more minor key riffs. His grandiose sensibilities are in evidence from the get-go, starting with the song’s bridge and arriving fully formed in “Mr. Crowley.” “Crazy Train,” the major key rock hit, still makes me feel the same way it did when I first heard it almost 30 years ago; I remember the confusion of reconciling a tame rock radio staple with Ozzy’s legend of extremity and transgression. “Goodbye to Romance” was the first song written for the record, built off of Ozzy’s vocal melody and fleshed out by Randy. It’s got a typically beautiful Randy solo and sets the precedent for the inclusion of a ballad on each album. “Suicide Solution” and “Mr. Crowley” both give Randy a chance to show off some minor key work and stretch his compositional legs; there’s a direct line from “Mr. Crowley” to “Diary of a Madman,” where the influence of Bob melts away and Randy gets a highlight. “Revelation (Mother Earth)” is the first in a line of mellower tracks that would be reaffirmed with “Waiting for Darkness” and “Killer of Giants.” “Steal Away (The Night)” and “You Looking at Me, Looking at You” are solid, especially the guitar solo in the latter. “No Bone Movies” is comparatively soft and “Dee” is the only spot of filler, both saved by Randy’s virtuosity. As rock records go, Blizzard is solid front to back.

The production sounds like it wasn’t quite ready for high-gain guitars. The guitars elevate the music from the heavy blues peddled by Black Sabbath, yet Blizzard is treated as a 70s rock record and the rhythm section suffers from a dry, borderline flabby production. Randy’s writing and playing are arguably the focal point of the whole record, but he was absolutely fucked with that brittle guitar tone. Van Halen had been released by this point so it’s not like high gain guitars hadn’t been tackled before. Production issues aside, all of the players are great. Even Ozzy, who was sounding rough on Never Say Die!, sounds rejuvenated here.

It wasn’t until after the record’s release that the band learned of their billing as Ozzy Osbourne with a backing band. Ozzy ended up with all of the credit for the music, even though Bob worked as a lyricist and co-wrote much of the music with Randy. Blame for this is largely placed at the feet of the Arden family, and I’m inclined to give them the lion’s share of it given the picture painted in multiple memoirs of Ozzy as a bumbling addict with a penchant for shitting in hotel ice machines. This would not be the first nor most egregious occasion of Ozzy’s management visiting a fucking upon the band. Despite the grumbling, this lineup would remain together for the European leg of the Blizzard of Ozz tour in the autumn of 1980 (absent keyboardist Don Airey, who was already booked for a Rainbow tour and was replaced by Lindsay Bridgwater).

I can’t imagine that there is anybody reading this who has never experienced Blizzard of Ozz but if that’s you, I invite you to check it out. It’s a great collection of tunes and is a cornerstone of rock history. The 40th anniversary version has an alternate mix of “Goodbye to Romance” with only guitar and voice, and is very good.

Diary of a Madman (Jet, 1981)

After wrapping up the European promotional tour for Blizzard of Ozz, the band returned to England. Blizzard was not to be released in the US until March 1981 and the period between tours was spent writing and recording the followup. Diary of a Madman would be the final recording with the OG lineup of Randy Rhoads, Bob Daisley, and Lee Kerslake, only one of whom would receive proper credit on the original release.

Diary’s better than I usually give it credit for, being as it is a less immediate and more brooding affair than Blizzard. Randy lets chords ring out a lot more and pushes his writing into more melancholic territory (“Little Dolls”), though most of that newfound sophistication begins to bloom after the opening combo of “Over the Mountain” and “Flying High Again.” “You Can’t Kill Rock and Roll” takes a second to get going but pays off decently well. The ballad, “Tonight,” reaches further than “Goodbye to Romance” with a stadium-sized chorus that anticipates all of the hair metal still to come in the 80s. “S.A.T.O.” and the title track both recall different aspects of Iron Maiden’s sound, the former an up-tempo rocker more in line with Black Sabbath and the latter a quintessential Randy song showcasing his epic side (as well as a strong album closer).

Bob is phenomenal across the record, and easy to pick out with a present bass recording. Lee is helped immensely by a harder edge to the drum production. The record as a whole is sonically fuller than Blizzard but Randy is still done dirty, only this time he’s muffled instead of brittle. Which is a shame, because every one of his solos is fantastic. He incorporates more pinch harmonics and slides than on Blizzard, foreshadowing the sounds of the band in the future. The keyboards are hard to ignore with their newfound volume, but rarely inappropriate. Over all of it hangs Ozzy like a specter, his double-tracked vocals adding to the eerieness of the music.

By all accounts, the bulk of the writing was done between Randy, Bob, and Lee. Lack of financial support from Jet Records during the writing prompted complaints from Bob and Lee, and they were fired after recording was completed. Randy remained and recommended his Quiet Riot bandmate Rudy Sarzo for the upcoming US leg of the Blizzard tour. Tommy Aldridge (Black Oak Arkansas, and Ozzy’s initial choice for drummer) and Lindsay Bridgwater completed the touring lineup. This, inexplicably, is the lineup credited on the record (along with Don Airey, who had been touring with Rainbow and did not record keyboards; these were contributed by an uncredited Johnny Cook, an old bandmate of Bob’s in Mungo Jerry).

The Blizzard US tour had support from Motorhead and sounds like it went ok despite several cancellations mid-tour for poor ticket sales. The Diary tours were a mess. The European leg lasted about a week before the remaining shows were canceled due to Ozzy’s deteriorating mental state during the dissolution of his first marriage. The US tour started optimistically, suffering cancellations from the infamous bat-biting incident, subsequent fallout from the rabies shots, and Ozzy’s banishment from San Antonio after pissing on the Alamo. Rudy’s memoir of this period, Off The Rails, describes Ozzy as largely unbearable to be around, needing to be forced on stage most of the time and otherwise getting fucked up and disappearing.

Somewhere in the middle of the tour, Don Arden backed Ozzy into a corner and forced him to deliver an album of Black Sabbath covers. This was allegedly in a bid to secure publishing royalties, as Sabbath’s previous publishing deal had expired, and also to make good on a distribution deal for which Jet Records had already been paid a substantial advance by CBS. Randy and Tommy felt that their names were big enough that a covers album would be an insult, and initially refused. This sent Ozzy spiraling and strained things with the band, especially between he and Randy. Randy ultimately relented on the condition that the next album and tour would be his last with Ozzy, after which he would return to LA and go back to school. He died a month later.

Rudy’s brother Robert came in to replace Randy and rehearsals were promising, though ended abruptly when Don Arden sent Bernie Torme (Gillan) with a contract and an advance. Bernie soon found himself in the unenviable position of trying to shoehorn an ill-fitting style into a band still reeling from the death of their beloved friend, and returned to England after several shows. He was replaced by Brad Gillis, with whom the band would record the promised live album of Black Sabbath covers, 1982’s Speak of the Devil. Rudy left before the Speak of the Devil tour to re-join Quiet Riot and was replaced by Pete Way (UFO), while Brad hung on through the European leg and then left to start Night Ranger.

In 2002, Blizzard and Diary were re-released with re-recorded rhythm parts by then-rhythm section Rob Trujillo and Mike Bordin. This was an alleged response to litigation launched by Bob Daisley and Lee Kerslake over unpaid royalties. The ensuing uproar caused the original tracks to be re-instated for the 30th anniversary editions in 2011, with Ozzy and Sharon blaming each other for the re-recordings.

Diary is not my favorite Ozzy record or my favorite lineup. If you’re not in the mood for it, the music loses enough steam that it feels like an endurance test. “Over The Mountain” is sick, though. And while there’s no studio recording, the Randy/Rudy/Tommy lineup can be heard on the 1987 Tribute album and the 2005 Prince of Darkness box set. They sound ferocious. It’s a shame that we never got a proper record of them.

Bark at the Moon (CBS, 1983)

The nightmarish ending of the Rhoads era was riddled with constant lineup changes as the band slogged through the touring for Speak of the Devil. Pete Way left with Brad Gillis and was replaced by Don Costa (W.A.S.P.), and Jake E. Lee was brought in to replace Brad for the US shows. At the conclusion of the touring, Don left and Jake commenced writing for a new album with Tommy Aldridge and none other than Bob Daisley. As the story goes, Bob was given an offer by Sharon to write the record and take a buyout for his credit. Newcomer Jake received a much more raw deal: after co-writing the music with Bob, Jake was presented with a contract stating that he would get no writing or publishing credit, and if he refused he would be fired and another guitarist would re-record his parts. So began the Jake era.

Jake is a different songwriter than Randy, and his songs have more in common with “Steal Away” than “Goodbye to Romance.” Great riffs abound, all of them angular and more sinister, and there are many more droned notes within his chords. The Jake songs are heavy and fun to listen to, bolstered by a rhythm section finally blessed with a powerful drummer and an edgy, stomping 80s sound that the early records lacked. The title track rips, as do “Rock ‘n’ Roll Rebel” and “Centre of Eternity.” There are updated elements of the usual Ozzy tropes, like the requisite ballad in “So Tired” and the huge anthemic chorus of “Slow Down.” And look at “Waiting for Darkness;” slower and more eerie than the standard rock stuff without losing an ounce of aggression.

The music retains a common creative force in Bob, so you also start to get a sense for which parts of the writing are his, like the alternating closed verses and open choruses of “Now You See It (Now You Don’t).” The music is fundamentally the same but the feel is completely different when paired with musicians less progressively-minded. And the band sound huge on the recording, with Ozzy suffused into everything owing to a generous amount of reverb. The only major misstep was the inclusion of Ozzy’s laughing on the title track, feeling like cheap pandering rather than an earned callback.

Tommy quit after the recording and was replaced with Carmine Appice for the tour (who was himself replaced by Tommy after being booted mid-tour). Surprisingly, Bob hung on through the touring and into the writing of the next record. Ozzy made it through the tour and into the Betty Ford clinic, with his addiction issues still running rampant (there is a brief passage in I Am Ozzy where he talks about his disappointment that rehab was going to teach him how to avoid drinking, not how to drink responsibly).

I would rate Bark at the Moon over Diary of a Madman for enjoyability, though it doesn’t quite top Blizzard of Ozz. Jake wouldn’t accomplish that feat until the next record, 1986’s The Ultimate Sin. The title track is a prime example of everything that Jake does well, but the whole thing is worth a listen. Recommended.

The Ultimate Sin (CBS, 1986)

Upon release from rehab, Ozzy was presented with a pile of material written by Jake in the interim. Jake, luckily, learned his lesson from Bark at the Moon and did not officially offer any of it until he was guaranteed writing credit up front. The writing was again undertaken by Jake and Bob, with support from Fred Coury (Cinderella) and then Jimmy Degrasso (Megadeth, Suicidal Tendencies). This lineup fizzled before recording, making Ultimate Sin the first Ozzy record without Bob’s playing; he was replaced by Phil Soussan for what would be Phil’s only outing with Ozzy. This is also the first Ozzy recording with drummer Randy Castillo (Lita Ford), who would remain into the mid-90s. Film scorer Mike Moran handled keyboards.

The Ultimate Sin is my favorite of the Ozzy solo catalog. It’s the quintessential 80s rock record and every song is a banger. The production is lean and ripping, finally resolving all of the sonic missteps from the early records, and the music has cast off all of the fluff and is fully committed in one direction, refined to a sharp and heavy point. Jake’s riffs continue to eschew Randy’s pretense and his leads are all exercises in building excitement and tension. There is barely a moment’s respite to be found.

‘Secret Loser’ is a great example of everything Sin does well, all forward motion with minimal sidebars. “Never Know Why” has a great chorus riff. “Never” recalls Randy’s dazzling fretwork, undergirded by Jake’s minor key constructions. The schtick starts wearing thin in a few places (“Thank God for the Bomb,” “Rockin’ All Night”), but the band toe the line expertly and stop just short of becoming hokey. Jake invokes Randy on the intro of “Killer of Giants,” the only song that could be called a ballad, and even that slow song can’t avoid picking up the pace before dropping back into its ending. The intro of “Fool Like You” stomps like nothing else in the catalog to this point, with the main riff emerging out of a shimmering curtain of harmonics. And then there’s the closer, ‘Shot in the Dark,’ with its rare bass-driven intro and one of the best choruses in the catalog. It’s one of my favorite Ozzy solo tracks, and the only track co-written with Phil.

Performances across the board are great but Ozzy sounds tired; you can almost hear the last of the alcohol still oozing from his pores on the choruses of the title track and “Thank God for the Bomb.” Phil and Randy are beasts and do a great job of driving everything relentlessly forward. The keyboards have been pulled back and don’t appear everywhere, but really pop when they do. With Bob still involved, Sin manages to reference the past without relying on cheap callbacks.

The Ultimate Sin dropped in early 1986 and tours ensued across Europe and the US with support from Metallica and Ratt, among others. In a surprise to nobody, the lineup disintegrated after the touring cycle, starting with Jake’s firing in 1987. Phil left around the same time, going on to play with Billy Idol. Bob Daisley would re-enter the fold for the next record alongside the guitar player who would carry Ozzy through the 90s: a relative unknown at the time by the name of Zakk Wylde.

In addition to being great rock records, the Jake material is the ideal Ozzy Osbourne: mid-tempo, ripping hard rock with enough guitar theatrics to satisfy the metalheads without alienating everybody else. I unreservedly recommend a listen to The Ultimate Sin, even if you don’t give a fuck about any of this. If you don’t bang your head, you’re probably dead.

That’s all for this round. Next time we’ll dig into the Zakk Wylde era and take a look at a phenomenal compilation, the Prince of Darkness box set.

In other news, I started rebuilding my movie collection in a bid to amass a library of material for when the internet goes dark. Becca and I completed a viewing of the John Carpenter Apocalypse trilogy: The Thing, Prince of Darkness, and In the Mouth of Madness (RIP Sam Neill). I’m happy to report that all three films hold up well and haven’t lost an ounce of their power. Escape From New York and Escape From LA are next, once I can source copies. One of these days we’re going to rip through the Alien franchise in chronological order, which should be something.

I re-read The Old Man and the Sea and The Stranger for the first time in a long time (probably on the order of twenty years, in the case of the former). I don’t remember being receptive as a kid but as an adult with some life behind me, it felt like there was a wealth of meaning that I could easily apprehend, especially in Hemingway’s case. Farewell to Arms is up next, after I slog my way through Atlas Shrugged.

Be well, see you.

Joey