When Ozzy split from Sabbath, most people thought he was done for. Too much booze, too much chaos. And then, boom, he drops Blizzard of Ozz. Not just a solo record, but like a thunderbolt right through the metal sky.
I still remember the first time I blasted I Don’t Know. Kinda funny title, right? Ozzy himself didn’t really know where he was heading. Then Crazy Train rolls in… man, I must have air-guitared that riff a hundred times with a broomstick in my bedroom. And Randy Rhoads? That guy didn’t just play, he lit the damn guitar on fire. Every solo still gives me goosebumps.
But it ain’t just about heavy riffs. Mr. Crowley with that spooky organ, it feels like a séance more than a song. And Goodbye to Romance? That’s not the Prince of Darkness, it’s Ozzy showing scars, a softer side. Broken but still reaching for something better.
His voice? Yeah, it wobbles, it rasps, sometimes it feels like it might break apart. But that’s the magic. It’s not polished, it’s raw, it’s real, and it hits you in the gut.
Looking back, Blizzard of Ozz was a wild gamble, and Ozzy nailed it. Now, with him gone, July 22, 2025, age 76, the record feels heavier, like part of his final goodbye. A crazy ride that somehow made sense in the end.
Ozzy may have left the stage, but this train… it ain’t ever stopping.
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