Back to the Beginning: A Farewell to Ozzy and Black Sabbath from My View.

Yesterday, I spent 10/11 emotional hours watching the livestream from the UK of Back to the Beginning—the final solo performance by Ozzy Osbourne, followed by the last-ever Black Sabbath performance. Even though I was watching from a screen thousands of miles away, it felt like I was standing front row with a crowd of 40,000 of kindred souls—headbanging, heartbroken, and completely in awe.

This wasn’t just a concert—it was a farewell to a piece of myself. The end of something sacred. Something that shaped me, saved me, and raised me.

🎸 My Sabbath Beginnings

My story with Sabbath goes all the way back to 4th grade in Redford, Michigan, when I was running around with Gina, Dennis, and Jerry. One day, we heard “Paranoid” on WRIF, and just like that—I was hooked. Jerry was a massive Zeppelin, Journey, and Sabbath fan, and his passion rubbed off on me. We weren’t just listening to music—we were becoming it.

Then, around 8th or 9th grade, my world turned upside down. My parents moved us to Florida, and I was devastated. I’d left behind my friends, my neighborhood, my comfort zone—and the music scene that made me feel alive. In protest, I blasted “You Can’t Kill Rock and Roll” on vinyl, over and over, to drive my parents nuts. That song became my lifeline. My therapy. And I swear I can still hear the sound of that needle dropping and Ozzy’s voice pouring out like a war cry. I like to believe that it was Ozzy who helped me convince my parents to move back to Michigan. That the universe somehow heard the cries of that song.

My mom thought Ozzy was some evil, bat-biting, drugged-out lunatic—just like the headlines made him out to be. But the funny thing is, she still stood in line at Showerman’s to buy me tickets every time Ozzy came to Detroit. She didn’t get the music, but she got me. And that meant everything.

A Day of Tributes and Thunder

The tribute show opened with Mastodon, who wasted no time shaking the earth. They exploded with “Black Tongue” and followed it up with “Blood and Thunder,” each note hitting like a sledgehammer to the chest. But the real showstopper came when they tackled “Supernaut,” one of Sabbath’s most rhythmically driven tracks. The stage filled with drum legends—Danny Carey, Eloy Casagrande, and Mario Duplantier—all trading blows like gods of thunder behind the kit. It felt more like a ceremony than a concert.

Rival Sons followed, pouring their soul into “Do Your Worst” and “Secret,” before unleashing a bone-rattling rendition of “Electric Funeral.” The way they leaned into the doom of that song gave it a new kind of fire, and I could feel the heaviness in my chest, the reverence in their tone.

Then came Anthrax, and they didn’t just show up—they stomped in with “Indians,” charging the crowd with pure thrash energy. But when they transitioned into “Into the Void,” it was like they became one with Sabbath’s spirit—gritty, raw, and untouchably heavy.

Halestorm kept the fire going. They led with “Love Bites (So Do I),” Lzzy’s voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. But the moment that really gave me chills was their cover of “Perry Mason.” It was fierce and haunting, and for a few minutes, it felt like Lzzy and Ozzy were connected by a single vocal thread.

Then came Lamb of God, and the venue trembled again. They ripped through “Laid to Rest” and “Redneck,” the crowd screaming every word—but the game-changer was their version of “Children of the Grave.” It was thunderous. Reverent. Brutal in the best way. They took that song and made it roar.

Supergroup A – Music, Conflict, and Catharsis

Supergroup A was next—featuring Nuno Bettencourt, Mike Bordin, David Ellefson, Lzzy Hale, Jake E. Lee, Adam Wakeman, David Draiman, II from Sleep Token and more. They dug deep into Sabbath’s soul, kicking off with “The Ultimate Sin,” a track that doesn’t always get the love it deserves. The solo work was sharp, the delivery tight. They moved into “Shot in the Dark,” which had the whole place singing along in unison. Then came “Believer,” a track that doesn’t just play—it haunts. But nothing stirred the crowd quite like “Sweet Leaf.”

David Draiman of Disturbed took the mic for it—and immediately faced backlash. Boos came from the crowd, loud and unavoidable. It wasn’t about his voice. It was political. His public stance on Israel had drawn anger, but this? This wasn’t the place. This night wasn’t about personal politics—it was about Black Sabbath and Ozzy.

Let’s be real: Draiman was invited to this stage. He didn’t crash the show—he was brought here to celebrate legends. And when he looked out at the crowd and calmly said,

“Are we really going to do this here?”

He made his point, then turned back to the music. He said "All hail Black Sabbath and all hail Ozzy Fucking Osbourne" this is a song called “Sweet Leaf” it came pouring out of him like defiance and devotion all at once. It was powerful. Controlled chaos. Exactly what Sabbath would’ve wanted.

Music has always been political. Metal especially. It has always stood against the system, always been rebellion. But it has also always been a force that unites, not divides. I may not agree with every opinion a musician holds—but I respect their right to hold it. It’s up to us to rise above, to separate the art from the artist, and lift the music.

Then came the performance that cracked us all open.

Yungblud stepped up, visibly emotional, and performed “Changes.” It was still during the Supergroup A set, and it had people in tears. You could see it on his face—this wasn’t just a cover. It was a thank you. A goodbye. A love letter. By the time he hit the final verse, many of us were already crying—long before the Sabbath set even began.

Jack Black’s Tribute from the Next Generation

Then came one of the most heartwarming moments of the day—a pre-recorded video of Jack Black performing “Mr. Crowley” with a youth all-star band. But this wasn’t just any band. The performance was introduced live on stage by Roman Morello, son of Tom Morello (Rage Against the Machine), and Revel Ian, son of Scott Ian (Anthrax)—two young rockers standing tall in their fathers’ shadows but already shining bright in their own right.

The screen lit up and there was Jack Black, pouring everything into a wildly passionate version of “Mr. Crowley.” His energy was electric, but it was what he did that really hit me. At the end of the performance, Jack picked up Roman Morello in the same iconic way Ozzy once picked up Randy Rhoads. And in that moment, it was more than just a tribute—it was a symbolic passing of the torch. It said, “This isn’t over. This music lives on.”

ALICE IN CHAINS, GOJIRA, DRUM-OFF & SUPERGROUP B

Then the night shifted again.

Alice in Chains hit with “Man in the Box,” “Would?,” then paid tribute to Sabbath with “Fairies Wear Boots.” Their gravelly voices and raw delivery carried so much weight.

Gojira followed, beginning with “Stranded” and “Silvera,” then brought opera flair with “Mea Culpa (Ah! Ça Ira!)” featuring Marina Viotti, before circling back to Sabbath roots with “Under the Sun.”

Then came the drum-off—Travis Barker, Danny Carey, and Chad Smith battling through an earth‑shaking “Symptom of the Universe.” The power, the precision—it exploded the place.

Supergroup B rose from that storm to launch into “Breaking the Law” with Carey, Billy Corgan, K.K. Downing, Adam Jones, Tom Morello, and Rudy Sarzo delivering a perfect clash of styles. Next, “Snowblind” came at us with slow, crushing riffs—Morello even played the solo with his teeth, turning to reveal “SABBATH RULES” on his guitar’s back. You got that right Morello!

Then they soared through Ozzy’s hits—“Flying High Again” with Nuno Bettencourt, Sammy Hagar, Vernon Reid, Sarzo, Chad Smith, and Adam Wakeman, followed by the groovy “Rock Candy” featuring many of the same legends.

When Tobias Forge jumped on for “Bark at the Moon,” backed by Barker, Bettencourt, Reid, Sarzo, and Wakeman, it felt like Sabbath’s rebellious spirit was 100% alive.

Then the real showstopper—Steven Tyler and Ronnie Wood, backed by Barker, Bettencourt, Morello, Sarzo, Adam Watt, launching into “Train Kept A-Rollin’,” “Walk This Way,” and closing this legendary set with “Whole Lotta Love.” Steven’s voice soared, Ronnie’s riffs ripped—and the crowd erupted like never before. Steven's voice was as on fire. After having vocal chord damage I was amazed. I am also going to state that Nuno is the goat, unbelievable talented guitarist.

🔥 The Storm Continued…

Then the floodgates opened again.

Pantera came in with pure fury. They dedicated their set to Dimebag, Vinnie and Black Sabbath. They hit the stage with “Cowboys from Hell” (as the host Jason Momoa took to the pit) and “Walk,” tearing the place apart with respect and rage. But when they turned down the fire and brought in “Planet Caravan,” it felt like time stopped. And with “Electric Funeral,” they reminded us that Sabbath didn’t just invent heaviness—they perfected it.

Tool followed, and suddenly we were floating. They started with “Forty Six & 2,” a hypnotic pull into the depths. Then came “Hand of Doom,” and they twisted it into something unnerving, beautiful, alive. “Ænema” closed their set like a prophecy.

Then came Slayer. No brakes. No mercy. They tore through “Disciple,” “War Ensemble,” “Wicked World,” “South of Heaven,” “Raining Blood,” and “Angel of Death” like they were carving the sky open. And maybe they were.

Fred Durst offered a pre-recorded performance of “Changes,” his voice softer than expected. Maybe not as moving as Yungblud’s, but still sincere. A moment of pause. A salute.

Then it was Guns N’ Roses. They started with “It’s Alright,” then deep-dived into “Never Say Die,” “Junior’s Eyes,” and a wildly fun cover of “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.” Say what you want, but Axl was Axl—not the greatest live singer, but not bad. And when they closed with “Welcome to the Jungle” and “Paradise City,” it was pure rock catharsis.

And then… Metallica. The band who was main support for the legends Ozzy and Black Sabbath. They took the stage and delivered what felt like prophecy. “Hole in the Sky,” “Creeping Death,” “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” “Johnny Blade,” “Battery,” “Master of Puppets.” Every note, every scream, every solo—it all pulsed with Sabbath’s DNA. James announced to the crowd that if it wasn't for Black Sabbath there would be no Metallica.

👑 And Then… He Rose

The lights dimmed. The crowd hushed. And then—it happened.

Ozzy rose from beneath the stage, seated on a throne, fragile but commanding. The moment his set started, I lost it. Seeing him there, looking every bit the fallen king taking one last stand, I was in tears. Not quiet tears—full-on sobbing. Because that moment wasn’t just theatrical. It was real. It was Ozzy, giving us everything he had left.

With Zakk Wylde beside him, and a band made up of Tommy Clufetos, Mike Inez, and Adam Wakeman, Ozzy launched into “I Don’t Know,” his voice raspy but clear, full of grit and fight. Then came “Mr. Crowley” again—this time from the man himself, and it sent chills down my spine. “Suicide Solution” followed, and then the ballad that broke us all: “Mama, I’m Coming Home.” I cried again. Couldn’t help it. The whole crowd was crying.

And just when you thought you couldn’t feel more—he played “Crazy Train.” And the entire world screamed.

The big screen behind him showing video of Randy Rhoades.

Then came the final chapter. The legends returned.

Black Sabbath—Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, and Bill—brought the night to a close with “War Pigs,” “N.I.B.,” “Iron Man,” and, of course, “Paranoid.”

But they didn’t play like it was the end.

They played like it was the first time.

Between songs, Ozzy kept thanking everyone.

“Thank you for my life.”

"Thank you for the life this band has been able to live"

“I love you all.”

When the other members walked off, Ozzy stayed. Still seated on his throne, looking out at the crowd, fireworks rising over the venue, 40,000 people on their feet and millions more watching from home. He sat there, just soaking it in. And so were we.

We all knew what we had just witnessed.

Some will say he’ll sing again. That it wasn’t truly the end. Because Ozzy is music. But I think Ozzy knew—and we knew—this was it. His body couldn’t do what his soul still wanted. And yet, he gave us everything.

We’re rejoicing in history…

But we’re also mourning.

The loss of a band that birthed metal. That brought generations together. That gave kids like us a reason to scream, to play, to feel.

🖤 Thank You, Ozzy THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS

Ozzy… I’ve seen you so many times live, and every single time, you had the crowd in a trance. You’d say “clap,” and we clapped. You said “go crazy,” and we lost it. And even yesterday—seated, older, frail—you still had that pull. You still commanded the audience, even us at home, and we obeyed the orders, we sang at the top of our lungs, we raised our hands when told to, we clapped, and we banged our fucking heads like we were all teenagers again. We listened.

Without Sabbath, I wouldn’t have half the bands I love. Most of us wouldn’t. They opened the door, cracked open the sky, and screamed into it. They made it okay to feel heavy things—and to let that heaviness become power.

“Changes” hits different now… because we’re all feeling the changes.

Ozzy changed my world.

And yesterday, he changed it again. Reminding me that time is not on our side and to enjoy every moment we have.

Thank you, Ozzy—for everything.

Thank you, Sabbath—for giving the misfits, the metalheads, the weird kids—a place to belong.

Back to the Beginning wasn’t just a concert.

It was home.

It was goodbye.

And it was proof that after everything…

You Can’t Kill Rock and Roll. 🤘

Until my next blog and when I can finally get my podcast up and running.

Peace, Love and Loud Music,

Mickey 🤘🤘🤘

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tGt3yefz4M