Greetings from the suburban wilds, where the weather has been sporadically comfy and the year begins to trend into darkness. This is an introspective time of year anyway but I suspect it will be more so this year. The period of reflection has not quite ended. I hope you’ve been well in the meantime.

A number of things are in motion and will be detailed at the end but first, the thrilling conclusion of our tour of Ozzy’s solo catalog, with his final four studio recordings.

Black Rain (Epic, 2007)

Another six-year gap elapsed between Down to Earth and Black Rain, with focus instead on tours and a slate of live recordings and compilations—including the Prince of Darkness box set we talked about last time. 2007’s Black Rain marked the inaugural involvement of both producer Kevin Churko (Hellyeah, Skillet, Papa Roach) and bassist Rob Nicholson (Rob Zombie), the final recorded involvement of Mike Bordin, and the return of Zakk Wylde for his final Ozzy recording until Patient Number 9.

It occurred to me during my first pass through Black Rain that, starting around Ozzmosis, Ozzy’s sound became the result of his producers rather than his songwriters—with his producers ultimately becoming songwriters. Zakk is the only one of Ozzy’s major writers to have bridged eras and his strong identity makes for a great example because though his sound is similar and recognizable from No Rest for the Wicked through Black Rain, the post-No More Tears material gets a noticeably different mood from him; what starts off as big, bombastic, and ripping in the 80s is curtailed over time, becoming more restricted, more single-minded. While Michael Beinhorn was not credited as a songwriter, Kevin Churko—as producer and writer—continues the trend of condensing the music into another big, faceless rock record.

Standard Ozzy tropes abound, with a couple of attempts at balladry and a stomping number for use by the WWE (“I Don’t Wanna Stop”). Zakk’s pinch harmonics used to intensify the shredding, but in the absence of guitar acrobatics they sound clownish. “Here For You” is what would’ve happened if “So Tired” had been kept alive long past the point of a dignified death, though it’s one of the better songs on offer. The title track is alright, could’ve maybe been on No More Tears, but the only thing that stands out is the harmonica, otherwise the song is there and then forgotten. “11 Silver” is the only place where I noticed the sound of the 80s and early 90s again. The intro to “Countdown’s Begun” reminded me too much of “Hell’s Bells” to be taken seriously but the rest of the song is enjoyable and the solo rips despite its brevity.

But that’s about it. None of it is likely to get you punching the air or anything. And the fact of Ozzy’s voice does nothing. You could’ve swapped in any vocalist and Black Rain would’ve had about the same effect. It all sounds uninspired, or like BLS material that Zakk threw out. Production-wise it’s on point; Kevin has built a career out of music like this and clearly knows what he’s doing, but the clear sound does nothing but make obvious the flatness of the music.

I think I figured it out. There’s no melodic intensity anymore. This is a crude comparison but imagine the riffs of 80s Ozzy as having a lot of air in them, with a lot of room to move around and a lot of speed, like an electron cloud in an atom. Over time all of the air has been sucked out and the music has become the atom’s nucleus, dense and impossible to lift. What’s left is this stomping, sluggish heaviness with no real identity. It’s fun for a song or two and then gets tired real quick. Another way to look at it is, there’s no hair. It’s like Michael Beinhorn shaved the music’s head and then every subsequent producer sanded a little bit more from the scalp with each outing.

Black Rain was celebrated with a promotional tour. In the time between albums, Ozzy allegedly decided that the music was starting to sound too much like BLS and opted for some new blood (can’t find any official word as to whether Zakk was fired or quit).

I’m sure this album has an audience somewhere, as everything does. But of Ozzy’s better works, this is not. You miss nothing by skipping it.

Scream (Epic, 2010)

The world only had to wait three years for Ozzy to return with Scream, created with returning producer Kevin Churko at Ozzy’s home studio. Kevin played all of the drums on the recording, though the album credits then-touring drummer Tommy Clufetos. Rounding out the band were Gus G. (on his first and only Ozzy recording), Rob Nicholson, and Adam Wakeman (son of Yes keyboardist and previous collaborator Rick Wakeman). This is also the first of Ozzy’s records to use the classic logo since The Ultimate Sin, a full 24 years previous.

Kevin Churko is the primary songwriter here, with occasional input from Adam Wakeman, and the lack of input from Zakk throws Kevin’s sensibilities into stark, sharp relief. He is arguably the least flattering of Ozzy’s producers, for Scream and—to a lesser extent—Black Rain are the sound of the catalog’s final descent into a nadir of butt rock. The intent here is not to drag butt rock, but it’s worth noting the clash between a singular musical personality like Ozzy’s and a genre that by definition needs to be restricted and predictable enough for mass appeal. Every band that does it sounds interchangeable because the range of acceptable elements is so narrow. So instead of a ripping Ozzy record of yore, full of movements and complex riffing, Scream and its predecessor present collections that sound like a roomful of people who are out of ideas.

The opening seconds of “Let It Die” are actually not terrible, with some off-time riffing and then an acceptable stomp. But as soon as those vocals come in, this is every other lame radio rock record of the last twenty years. Further experimentation is limited to attempts at incorporating light industrial elements and rapping, neither of which elevate anything. “Soul Sucker” isn’t horrible. There are heavy riffs here and there everywhere, like when the distorted guitars come in on “Diggin’ Me Down” or the riff at the end of “One More Time.” But there’s the problem again: some cool riffs change nothing about the fact that Scream is faceless. Like Down to Earth and Black Rain, there is no “Mama I’m Comin Home” or “Bark at the Moon” or “Mr. Crowley.” “Fearless” could’ve been literally anybody else. It’s instantly forgotten once it passes. And then the last song is just the last song and the album ends with zero fanfare.

Scream arrived in the summer of 2010 accompanied by the usual promotional touring and, in the decade that followed, more live collections and retrospectives.

In 2012 Ozzy undertook a reunion tour and new album with Black Sabbath (2013’s 13), followed by Black Sabbath’s farewell tour in 2016, and finally returned to his solo material with Zakk Wylde for the No Rest for the Wicked 30th anniversary dates in 2017. A planned final world tour beginning in 2018 was cut short when Ozzy fell and fucked up his back, aggravating the damage left by his ATV accident in the early 00s. That final tour was ultimately never completed and was officially canceled in 2023.

There’s nothing on Scream that hasn’t been done much better and more listenably anywhere else. Probably the least memorable entry in the catalog.

Ordinary Man (Epic, 2020)

Ordinary Man arrived in 2020 nearly ten years after Scream—the single biggest gap between releases in the entire catalog. It followed Ozzy’s appearance on Post Malone’s 2019 hit “Take What You Want,” which gave Ozzy his first Top 10 single of the 21st century and kickstarted his relationship with producer Andrew Watt. In addition to production, Watt also played most of the guitars on the record alongside Slash and Tom Morello, supported by the rhythm section of Chad Smith and Duff McKagan. Songwriting was supported by Ali Tamposi (Kelly Clarkson, 5 Seconds of Summer) on the lion’s share of the album.

Ordinary Man takes a couple of songs to get going but is a vast improvement over the Kevin Churko era and, for the first time in a long time, it’s an exciting listening experience. Most of the shitty biker rock has been forfeited in favor of an expanded palette of textures and things flourish as a result. “All My Life” sounds like it could’ve been a soft track on Diary… or Bark at the Moon. The ballads are great, with the title track evoking Chicago in a flattering way—likely due to Elton John’s writing—and “Holy For Tonight” recalling ELO. “Under The Graveyard” has a huge chorus that could’ve been phoned in but instead uses the expected chunky riffing tastefully, only appearing in the back half of each bar. “Today is the End” is fun: the verse riff sounds like Black Sabbath and could’ve been on Ozzmosis, but then the chorus straight up sounds like Brand New, especially at the end of the song. The Post Malone single is included as a bonus track, with the singer also appearing on “It’s A Raid,” the raucous album ender whose rawness slaps you awake and then drops into heavy Black Sabbath territory before screaming into the end on two wheels. “Straight to Hell” and “Eat Me” stood out as the only real duds; everything else is solid.

The production’s a nice change of pace, too. Sonically it’s not just a black mass of chunky guitars with occasional electronic elements, and everything has room to breathe. There’s none of the over-reliance on modulation or other aesthetic elements to dress up lackluster music. And nobody forced him to rap this time, thank Christ. Ozzy definitely sounds like he’s in his seventies, especially on “Goodbye.”

Ordinary Man dropped in February 2020, just before the pandemic, so for the first time there was no promotional tour. The only other release that I can find in the wake of the album was an 8-bit game called Legend of Ozzy.

I am surprised and humbled. The vocal melodies are great, the riffs aren’t stupid, the songs are well constructed, and the performances are organic. Ordinary Man is phenomenal when it had no right to be. My top three aren’t changing but I’d put this in the top five, easy. Highly recommended.

Patient Number 9 (Epic, 2022)

And so finally we arrive at Ozzy’s swan song, Patient Number 9; allegedly set underway less than a week after the release of Ordinary Man, putting Ozzy’s age at 71 at the outset. The core writing team of Ozzy, Watt, Tamposi, and Smith remained in place from Ordinary Man, along with varied contributions from some of many musicians involved—guitars alone were contributed by Zakk Wylde, Andrew Watt, Tony Iommi, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Mike McCready, and Josh Homme. Rhythm work was divided amongst Rob Trujillo, Duff McKagan, and Chris Chaney (Jane’s Addiction) on bass, with Chad Smith and Taylor Hawkins supporting on drums.

Patient Number 9 is, like its predecessor, better than expected, and a thousand thanks are due to Watt for helping Ozzy to go out on a high note. Most of the heavy lifting is being done by faster tempos that make the music much more exciting to consume. The title track is long without feeling like it, with a great chorus and emotional outro solo courtesy of Jeff Beck. “Immortal” is what all of the 90s and 00s output should’ve aspired to: modern rock that wasn’t actively trying to dumb itself down. “Parasite” is awesome, all juiced up thanks to a Taylor Hawkins drum track and some excellent throwback shredding from Mr. Wylde; the chorus with its vocal melody sounds like something off of that Lostprophets album Start Something. “A Thousand Shades” is a phenomenal ballad with emotional strings that don’t come off hokey, and “My Darkness” reads as an updated “Killer of Giants” if that older song used fast tempos throughout instead of at the end (with great Sabbath style riff at the end). Suffice it to say that there are great riffs throughout, with no duds.

It also feels different than Ordinary Man. That preceding album felt exploratory, like it was surveying and getting a sense for what was possible. Patient is much more pointed, aimed back at being an out and out rock record but with a soul. So despite a similar crew it’s less Ordinary Man pt. II, more Ozzmosis but better.

No notes for the production. It’s the same kind of living, breathing beast that Watt managed to capture on Ordinary Man. Nothing overbearing or lame here, folks. Ozzy sounds great, as do everybody else.

Following the release of Patient Number 9, Ozzy’s only live appearances consisted of a few songs at sporting events. Allegedly another album was in the works as of mid-2023, along with some proposed touring in 2024 following a major spinal surgery; my assumption is that all of this was abandoned when his Parkinson’s started getting worse. The only real notable thing to happen was the massive Back to the Beginning spectacle a few weeks before his death in late July 2025.

We mentioned it at the start, but it’s weird to have come through twelve albums worth of material knowing that Ozzy had a minimal hand in the music, acting as more of a figurehead than anything else. It’s not something he ever hid; even with Black Sabbath he was always open about Geezer being the lyricist while he was just the singer. But then in I Am Ozzy he says that after leaving Black Sabbath, he wanted a band in which he was the sole leader, calling the shots and getting all the credit. I can empathize with the impulse. But if the goal is credit for everything, my puritanism insists that one should be contributing substantially to the material. Something about the desire to lead a band where one can have absolute veto power and receive maximum credit with minimal musical input seems…fake? Conceited?

I think my problem is that it feels disingenuous to refer to such an arrangement as a band. Take Bruce Springsteen: a bandleader who (I assume) has the final word on everything but is also a principle writer of the music. He’s crafting the music with the others in the band; he’s in a band. I have no real insight into what changes Ozzy might’ve offered during any writing, but by all appearances Ozzy is an entertainer moving atop music crafted by others. That sounds less like a band.

Black Sabbath’s division of labor was similar, but in the context of the band Ozzy was essentially one amongst equals, which never seemed to be the case in his solo career. Recall that the OG Black Sabbath lineup was always considered the most profitable, with a solo Ozzy Osbourne a reluctant plan B. When all hope of a reunited Black Sabbath finally disappeared, Jet Records was obliged to throw all of their eggs into the Ozzy basket. This would’ve required the manufacture of a larger-than-life persona to get things to take off, and it’s because of this that Ozzy always seemed to be on a pedestal and at a distance from whoever happened to rotate into his band. I suppose that distance can also be attributed to his various addictions, as well as the fact of Sharon always working exclusively for him and never allowing the interests of the “band” to supersede Ozzy’s. Which, again, doesn’t sound like a band.

These issues aside, it was ultimately his ability as a front man that made Ozzy valuable and provided a business case for his continuing to make records—because let’s face it, none of this would exist if there were no money to be made. I guess a thing I learned about myself through this romp is that I don’t value or have much respect for musical ability employed solely for entertainment’s sake, largely divorced from composition. That said, I’m not sure how much I’d care about any of these songs if it was someone else’s voice, so on some level I’m full of shit.

And for the final time: fuck everyone who kept pushing Ozzy through his various addictions and crises to keep up the cash flow. I keep hearing about all of these new holographic things involving his likeness, and I really wish they’d let the man rest.

Fully half of Ozzy’s catalog helped me to appreciate the things that I love about the other half. Namely: rock music was a lot more ripping in the 80s and early 90s. At some point it started being more about pummeling heft and less about guitar acrobatics. Which sucks, because even the good albums in Ozzy’s late career don’t rip your face off like the seminal releases. Although given the relative badness of the Churko era, I’ll take listenability over more dumbed-down palm muting.

So! Half-heartedly ranked from worst to best, with a traditional line to denote the ones I don’t need to hear ever again:

Black Rain

Scream

Down to Earth

____________________

Ozzmosis

No Rest for the Wicked

Diary of a Madman

Patient Number 9

Ordinary Man

Bark at the Moon

Blizzard of Ozz

No More Tears

The Ultimate Sin

The demo phase for the next round of Knock Over City material is well underway. The 2026 edition of Feeding Frenzy is in the middle of construction. Brother Ryan and I have a couple of other things simmering that will appear when they do.

I started digitizing everything in a bid to abandon commercial streaming entirely in favor of streaming off of my own collection. Lots more on things that I’ve found next time.

Currently reading: Finished Snow and cleared Joan Didion’s The White Album in September.

I finally picked up Between Two Fires and devoured it this past weekend. Medieval horror during the Black Plague. Can’t say enough about it. 5/5. Highly recommended.

Still slogging through Atlas Shrugged but I’ve cleared the first half. 500ish pages to go.

Peace and love. Talk to you soon,

Joey