Reality Bites
A Nod to Ozzy and Midlife. I'm trying to sort it all out.
The month of July felt like a year. The year so far has felt like a decade. Ozzy is dead, my daughter is leaving for college, nothing in the world feels normal anymore, but I think music will save us all.
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My old boss, Brian Slagel over at Metal Blade Records, often explains to people about growing up in the 1970s: you were either a Black Sabbath person or you were a Led Zeppelin person, and your identity as a heavy-music lover was defined by this preference.
I think he’s right.
I totally grew up a Led Zeppelin person. I LOVED Robert Plant and Jimmy Page - more than I loved John and Paul, more than I loved Keith and Mick. Led Zeppelin was my first rock n’ roll obsession. I wasn’t into Black Sabbath at all.
But, I started listening to Ozzy Osbourne in high school. I loved Ozzy.
My BFF Kathy and I were obsessed with what MTV was dishing up in the mid-1980’s and I have fond memories of us dialing in to vote for Mötley Crüe’s Home Sweet Home video as the #1 request.
In hot competition for the #1 spot was Shot in the Dark, by Ozzy. It was a cool video, showing four metal chicks cruising the Sunset Strip in a convertable, ending up at an Ozzy concert, with hotties Jake E. Lee, Phil Soussan, and Randy Castillo backing Ozzy. One of the girls keeps hearing a weird sound and turns into the red-eyed, werwolfy-chick on the album cover. This is what I aspired to as a teenage girl - to move to LA, look dangerous, cruise the strip, and hang out with hot rockers.
Which I actually did a few short years later, yay me.
Unfortunately, I missed The Ultimate Sin tour when it came through Columbus in July 1986 - I was fourteen. My BFF Kathy went. And Metallica opened. I should have gone. I still kick myself.
Diary of a Madman, Blizzard of Oz, and The Ultimate Sin were in constant rotation in my music collection in the 80’s. I always had an Ozzy tape in the car.
And look, none of us cared what trouble Ozzy got himself into. Biting the head off of a bat? Pissing on The Alamo? Snorting ants? Gross? Disrespectful? Dangerous?
Yes.
But also, fucking legendary.
All of these antics upset the PMRC and the conservative Moral Majority of the 1980s, which was fine by me. Let them think the worst - we knew the music wasn’t satanic. While Keith Richards was Rock n’ Roll cool in his heroin chic of the 70’s, Ozzy was a level above. Or below, if you think he’s going to hell.
I certainly don’t.
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I have a few friends who attended the Back to the Beginning Black Sabbath and Ozzy charity event in Birmingham in early July.
I watched many of the sets and at the end, with Ozzy up there, looking so frail, determined, heroic - I choked up a few times. He used to run around the stage clapping like a happy seal. Seeing Zakk up there beside him onstage for the last time - ever steady, ever loyal.
Gah, I’m teary even now.
The weight of the moment hung so heavy. So happy, so wonderful, so heavy. The end of an era.
Time marches on. Our bodies are breaking down and doing things we aren’t expecting. Our bodies hurt. People my age and older - we are feeling it.
But seeing so much joy at this concert, I was reminded that our rock n’ roll hearts beat strong and clear, no matter the infirmity.
Seeing the outpouring of love and gratitude for Ozzy has really touched this old GenX rocker chick.
Ozzy made good music, wrote good songs, and by any measure of good deeds and a thoughtful life - he was a good man. Despite his many mistakes and antics - he atoned. He suffered. He triumphed.
In the end he was a beloved artist. A generous man, a kind man, a funny man, and a family man.
A world without Ozzy doesn’t seem right.
I just saw footage of the city of Birmingham cleaning up the flowers, gifts, and tributes. They are creating an archive and catalog of every single gift, bouquet, stuffie, and personal note left in honor of him. After that, every single bouquet is being mulched to be used around his gravesite. Isn’t that lovely? What an epic move by the family.
RIP Ozzy. You were a fabulous part of my rock n’ roll experience.
See you on the other side
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In June, I landed on my left foot the wrong way and I felt a deep, awful, tendony-twinge - and it’s been bothering me since, so much so that I skipped going to King’s Island with my family while we were in Ohio a few weeks ago.
My family is balls-to-the-walls at amusement parks - they get there when the gates open, and leave when the park shuts down. This time they rode 22 coasters and walked 12 miles.
Now, I might ride the water log ride and the swinging Viking ship, and I’ll go to the top of the Eiffel tower and maybe even ride the Speed Racers. I don’t do big coasters anymore, and this time - I didn’t want to slow them down because of my bum foot. The only thing that feels good is walking barefoot, or in orthopedic flip-flops. But for an all-day outing to an amusement park?
Knock yourself out, fam. I’m out.
Instead, at the last minute, I reached out to Aaron, an old friend from high school.
Monday night? No problem. Aaron’s ex-girlfriend, Erin was playing an open mic set at Eldorado’s with her good friend, Kyle Gass - the other half of the comedy/rock group Tenacious D.
Aaron and Andy, his housemate, were happy to have me tag along. Between the two of them, they know every musician in town, and when we grabbed a burger at a hip brewpub, a group of various players gathered around to say hello and I briefly met a former member of The James Gang, one of the finest bands to ever come out of Ohio.
Aaron and I dated for about six months when we were in high school, and we’ve always had a great musical connection. All these years later and I consider him a brother - chosen family. Andy has been his BFF and bandmate since they were both in a middle school band called Prophecy. They are both gifted musicians and have played in dozens of bands and projects in Columbus over the years.
Andy works as a professional guitar tech and is away from home 9-10 months of the year. He’s currently working with Billy Gibbons, but his most regular gig over the years has been working for Sheryl Crow. He’s done the Foo’s, Katie Perry, Macklemore. Always steady work. Lucky for me, he wasn’t on tour and we got to catch up.
It’s so nice to have old friends - like, people who knew you before you even knew yourself, with the same stupid jokes and musical connections.
When we got to Eldorado’s, the house band was playing: The Geezers - and HOLY SHIT did they rock. All of them, older than me, except for the bass player. A barefoot lady belting it out with two smokin’ guitar players and drummer with a long gray ponytail. I was right up front and bathed in their bluesy guitar solos and stellar harmonies. Good sonic medicine, it was.
It just so happened to be Kyle Gass’s birthday, so there was a small celebration before he took the stage. The evening did not disappoint. It was funny, ridiculous, and joyful. Erin, Aaron’s ex, did a great job. She looked and sounded amazing. Kyle commented on how much he loves Columbus because of how the people there love and appreciate live music
I’ve always viewed Columbus as one of the great “music cities” - so much hidden talent and deep musical appreciation - especially for rock music. And sure, there were younger people in the audience that night, but most of us were in our 50’s, 60’s and beyond. Old Geezers indeed.
I broke my own rule about proper footwear in clubs. I always wear closed-toed shoes because I’ve been stepped on too many times by meaty metalheads over the years. But on this lovely Monday night, I was happy to hobble about the club in my orthopedic flip-flops.
Looking around at the crowd - I was not the only one wearing them.
—
In a week, my daughter leaves for college, and I am not OK.
I mean, I’m FINE, but I am not OK. She’s my firstborn. Her childhood went by in a blink. It’s going to be weird not having her in the house on an everyday basis.
Here is the thing: She’s only moving twenty miles away, to downtown Phoenix.
THANK GOD.
I’m still a mess.
Some of her friends are moving to DC, to Wisconsin, to California. At least my girl won’t be too far away.
But, still. My baby is leaving my house. This mama bird is happy and sad. So proud of her, so happy to see her launch, so sad that her time in my home is winding down.
And, I’ll confess, I’ve not been myself. My writing has wandered off into the wilderness. It’s all been midlife madness, big adjustments, and recalibration. Who am I even?
All I know is,
My foot hurts.
Ozzy is dead.
My girl is moving away.
And, Reality Bites.
But not the heads off bats.
(Sorry. OZZY FOREVER!!!)
The best medicine is in the music, and through it I will sort myself out. I’ll keep you posted.
Until next time, rock on.
AMO
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I wanted to let you know that my friend and very talented writer, author Christopher Long, has a new Substack.
Chris is the author of Garage Sale Vinyl, which I published on Bibliozona Books last year, and he plans on posting pieces of his sparkling, cozy writing a few times a week.
Chris has been pumping out book reviews, album reviews, movie reviews, interviews, podcasts and appearances on behalf of a variety of media outlets for years now, and I finally convinced him to start a Substack so he could have a permanent home and grow his own audience.
If you like pop culture with a good dash of nostalgia, please do subscribe to Chris’s Substack.
Thanks for your support.
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AMO
Fellow GenXer. Losing Ozzy feels unreal! He was such an important part of my life. 💔
Very relatable! Saw Ozzy hanging at the Rainbow a few times early 90’s.