It’s Saturday, October 12th, 2024. I’m sitting over dinner at the Omega Diner in Niles, Illinois with my buddy, Jeremy, prior to catching Peter Gabriel-era Genesis tribute, The Musical Box, at the Des Plaines Theatre. In the rock press that week are quips from a recent Ozzy Osbourne interview, in which he expresses the desire to play one final Black Sabbath show in his hometown of Birmingham. Now this wasn’t the first time the Prince of Darkness echoed these sentiments, nor would it be the last. Jeremy asked, “If all four members of Sabbath played one final show, and you had the opportunity to go, would you?” I told him if they did, I’d be on the first plane out to Birmingham.
Fast forward 9 months later, and there I was: Not on a plane to Birmingham, but rather Dublin, then a connecting flight to Birmingham, to catch Black Sabbath’s final show ever, Back to the Beginning. When the news of this colossal gathering came out in February, to say the metal world was shocked would be an understatement. Not only would this one-off event mark the final performances of both Sabbath and Ozzy, but it would see a who’s who of metal’s biggest names pay homage to these legends. Metallica, Slayer, Pantera, Guns N’ Roses, Alice in Chains…and that was only the beginning of BTTB!
On paper, it sounded too good to be true. And usually when something’s too good to be true, it is. For a plethora of reasons, this event could’ve devolved into a complete disaster. Were all these bands actually going to play? How could an event stage and stage crew logistically handle such a massive bill in one day? Would Ozzy, plagued with rapidly deteriorating health, even show? And even if the Ozzman were to perform, should he? Would this whole thing just reek of spuriousness, a final cash-grab at the hands of Sharon Osbourne? These and more were all legitimate concerns.
Said concerns aside, I couldn’t grab a ticket to this thing fast enough. Here it was, my one and only chance to see the greatest metal band of all time in their original form. I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to take it, because as I always say, you never know if you don’t try! “So now that it’s over, can we just say goodbye?” Not just yet, Ozz. It’s time to go back to the beginning of July 5, 2025: A day that will loom large in metal history. This is our review of Back to the Beginning.
Entrance
Admin face reveal!
When I arrived in Birmingham a day before the show, I was greeted by a scene I’d never experienced before. I’ve seen my fair share of arenas, festival grounds, and even luxury casino resorts overtaken by metalheads. An entire municipality? That was another story altogether. It was as if I had died and gone to heavy metal heaven! Come the morning of July 5th, my dear friend Catherine (for whom this wouldn’t have been possible) and I took a shuttle over to Villa Park, eager to make the most of our early entry general admission tickets. Though the event wouldn’t kick off until 1 PM, fans were gathered in their masses as early as 9 AM, ready to storm the stadium and witness a spectacle like no other. And that they did.
Mastodon
After 45 minutes of Slipknot DJ and soon to be Osbourne in-law Sid Wilson dicking around behind a turntable, and an intro video of post WWII England set to a deafening soundtrack of “Black Sabbath”, the festivities officially kicked off at 1 PM with the arrival of Mastodon. Now those of you who have been following us from the beginning are well aware that I was never a fan of this band. Not only that, but I largely blame them for the rampant hipsterization of metal that taken place over the course of the past 20 years. That said, they did a decent enough job kicking things off, playing two now genre standards in “Black Tongue” and “Blood and Thunder”. While, I don’t care for them, there’s no denying their Sabbathian roots, with their prog-sludge formula boasting a direct bloodline to Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.
However, Mastodon’s cover did not come from Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, but rather the album before it, Vol. 4. As drummer Brann Dailor hit that opening cymbal riff, I knew immediately we were going to be treated to John Bonham’s favorite song, “Supernaut”. Joining them for this percussion-heavy jam was an all-star cast of Gojira’s Mario Duplantier, Slipknot’s Eloy Casagrande, and Tool’s Danny Carey, each bashing away on their own mini-tom kits during Bill Ward’s iconic solo passage, which left me a tad amused. You mean to tell me it takes 4 (FOUR) percussionists to replicate live what Bill Ward did on record? Granted, I felt the same way when I saw King Crimson a few years back (3 drummers = 1 Bill Bruford), but I digress. All things considered, Mastodon got the jam-packed day off to a rollicking start.
Rival Sons
Next up, a band I hadn’t seen since Sabbath’s last farewell jaunt, Rival Sons. I saw them twice on that run, and both time I thought they were very OK. This is a band who foreshadowed the early ’70s bluesy hard rock revival of the late ’10s by quite some time, bursting onto the scene in the midst of the whole occult rock revival, as a matter of fact! Subsequently, there were bands who came along that I felt tackled this sound better (i.e. EP era Greta Van Fleet, Dirty Honey), but considering I hadn’t laid my ears upon them in 9 years, I figured I’d give these California boys another whirl.
Perhaps it was the headspace I was in, the adrenaline flowing at maximum speed and my disposition being that of a child on Christmas morning, but man, these dudes rocked the house! Of course by “house”, I mean open air stadium, but you get the idea. Wielding a sonic attack of Hammond organ wizardry, warm guitar riffage, and “BABY, BABY, BABY” vocals, Rival Sons came across like a band one could’ve caught sharing a bill with the Sabs circa 1972, which likely explains why they got the call to open up The End Tour nearly a decade ago now. Their set was capped off by a spot on rendition of my favorite Paranoid track, “Electric Funeral”, but it wouldn’t be the last time we’d hear it today. More on that later!
Anthrax
Who’s ready to war dance?! Clearly not Villa Park at a little past 2 on a Saturday afternoon! Perhaps the growing throngs on the field were saving their energy for later festivities, but as a lifelong Anthrax fanboy, I was disappointed at the lack of action during “Indians”. If there was a circle pit, it was too miniscule for yours truly to catch a glimpse of, let alone join. Even more upsetting was the band’s inclusion of only ONE original song. Really guys? I know all of the acts were strapped for time, but you seriously mean to tell me you couldn’t have fit in “Madhouse” or “Metal Thrashing Mad” in between “Indians” and your Sabbath cover? Which reminds me, let’s get onto that, shall we?
Considering their hard-thrashing rep, I was expecting Anthrax to tackle one of Sabbath’s more uptempo cuts like “Symptom of the Universe” or “Children of the Grave”. Instead, they threw a real curveball with a faithful rendition of the stoner/doom anthem, “Into the Void”. At first, I thought to myself, “Well that’s odd.” Then I found myself getting lost in that grinding groove which dominates the verses. Truth be told, there isn’t much difference between the grooves on an album like Persistence of Time (1990) and that which guides “Into the Void”, aside from the fact that there’s nearly 20 years between the two. Iommi: Ever the trailblazer!
Halestorm
Halestorm: The only band on Back to the Beginning to feature a female member. If you heard that one before, chances are it’s because Lzzy Hale told you no less than a dozen times leading up to this event. Perhaps it’s because this band’s success has eluded me for the better part of 15 years, but with all due respect, weren’t there any other Ozzy-related female acts who would’ve been more worthy for such a bill? Joan Jett? Girlschool? Freaking Lita Ford?! I guess it’s all water under the bridge now, but Halestorm served as thee female-fronted act of the day.
Their two original offerings, “Love Bites (So Do I)” and “Rain Your Blood On Me”, only continued to prove my point about this band: Excellent musicians, who would make a killer Black Album-metal band (if that makes any sense), but instead opts for pedestrian hard rock that shares the airwaves with Nickelback and *shudders* Sleep Token (whose anonymous drummer happened to partake in the supergroup portion of the show). On the bright side, their cover of “Perry Mason”, the first Ozzy solo cover of the day, was nothing short of spectacular, with Hale’s metallic pipes driving the Ozzmosis classic on home with maximum firepower.
Lamb of God
Still disgusted by the tepid fanfare for Anthrax, I thought to myself, “Surely, Lamb of God will get this crowd moving. I’ve followed this band long enough (damn near 20 years) to know Randy Blythe won’t sing (or rather growl) to a crowd of invalids.” Thankfully, I thought correctly. From the moment the opening “Laid to Rest” riff kicked in, mosh pits erupted all over the field like it was Download Festival 2007. Now I’ve growled along to this song and “Redneck” in jam-packed theaters and open air sheds here in America. A max capacity soccer stadium in England? That’s a completely different feeling altogether!
After two originals that had the millennial crowd reliving their high school years, LOG closed their set with one of the best Sabbath covers of the day, and arguably the most unique of the renditions: “Children of the Grave”. The first and final verses were faithful to the original 1971 verse, down to Blythe doing his best clean-vocal Ozzy delivery. The second verse, meanwhile, was done LOG style, complete with mid ’00s neo-thrash grooves, double-kick drum beats, and Blythe’s signature bark/growl. No doubt about it; this cover polarized many, but left me impressed to say the least. I’m glad they recorded it properly and have it available now for streaming!
Supergroup A
The first supergroup of the day kicked off with the classic “The Ultimate Sin”, helmed by Halestorm’s Lzzy Hale whose vocals remarkably were still present after that aforementioned blistering “Perry Mason”. Most noteworthy of her co-conspirators on this one was Jake E. Lee, who played guitar on the original recording way back in ’86. For Lee, sidelined by health issues and a murder attempt, this show doubled as a hero’s welcome just like it did for Ozz himself. While it would’ve been much cooler to see the iconic axe-slinger tearing it up with the Ozzman than Hale, it was cool regardless to see him playing these songs again live, especially on such a massive stage.
David Draiman of Disturbed infamy (“OH-WA-AH-AH-AH!”) followed and was met by a sea of jeers, probably because of this. That said, he botched the first verse of “Shot in the Dark”, jumping in way too early, which to me is a far worse offense than autographing missiles for any regime (Just like Disturbed’s musical output, it’s a joke, people. Relax.) A palatable rendition of “Sweet Leaf” followed, but at the end of the day, this was one guy who really didn’t need to be here, Ozzfest connections aside.
Speaking of Osbourne dynasty connections, if there’s one guy whose inclusion on this bill blew my mind, it’s Whitfield Crane of Ugly Kid Joe. Here in the States, Ugly Kid Joe achieved success as one of the few hard rock acts to breakthrough during the grunge era, scoring two Top 10 hits in “Everything About You” and a cover of “Cats in the Cradle”, and opening for the Ozzman’s No More Tours Tour, before virtually falling off the face of the earth. Mind you, this is in UKJ’s homeland. Apparently the UK is another story altogether, as UKJ have managed to maintain a successful career as a festival act nearly 35 years since their heyday. And here was kingpin Ugly Kid himself, Mr. Whitfield Crane, taking on one of my top 3 favorite solo Ozzy tunes, “Believer”, and doing a tremendous job. It would’ve been the highlight of this first supergroup set. That is until what followed…
Rounding out supergroup A was a surprise appearance from the biggest popstar on the planet as I type this, Yungblud. Now I’d be lying if I said I was familiar with Yungblud’s fare. If memory serves correct, I walked past his midday set a few Riot Fests ago, not thinking much of it, so that’s that. I just know he’s absolutely dominating social media algorithms right now, similar to the way Chappelle Roan was last summer, and chose to cover a Sabbath song I never held in high regard, “Changes”: A tune too mopey and sappy for this here riff worshipper’s liking. And yet as I stood shoulder to shoulder against the barrier on the now over-capacity field, watching this fellow twenty-something singlehandedly control the audience with just the wave of a hand, it sunk in: This is the Freddie at Live Aid/George Michael at the Concert for Freddie moment.
Here was a singer I had virtually zero interest in, singing a song I never cared for, and yet even I had to admit he was absolutely dominating. Enraptured in the mass of roughly 40-50k headbangers, I found myself screaming along to the chorus: “I’m going through changes! I’m going through changes!” As the refrain reverberated through the brisk English breeze, the hair on my arms stood at attention. All those years of watching surreal English/European concert/fest moments, whether it be on YouTube or VH1 Classic or an old VHS, and here I was finally LIVING it. I still haven’t returned to earth!
Alice in Chains
I’ve long been critical of the rampant inclusion of grunge/alt era acts on classic rock radio playlists. Yes, I know these acts and their respective heydays are nearing 30 and 35 years, but why on earth would I want to hear whiney Nirvana after Foghat or Jethro Tull? I am, however, willing to argue there are select exceptions to this rule, one such example being Alice in Chains. I don’t say this because AiC has always been my favorite band of the era, but because I’m still getting over a sold out Villa Park singing along to “Man in the Box” and “Would?” at the top of their lungs like they would Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin'”, and I don’t believe this could’ve happened in any timeline prior to 2025.
For AiC, this set was a special one, as it marked their return to the live stage after a sudden series of cancellations this past May, following an injury suffered by drummer Sean Kinney. Despite skepticism regarding their involvement in this event, Kinney was back behind the kit on this late July afternoon with his bandmates, and just in time to get lost in a kickass rendition of the psych-metal masterpiece, “Fairies Wear Boots”. While no band can accurately replicate the jazzy precision of Butler and Ward, or subtle balance of light and darkness of the original composition, AiC did an excellent job attempting such, making their set a highlight of the day.
Intermission
As everyone’s “favorite” band Gojira got ready to take the stage, I figured their 20ish minute set would serve as the perfect opportunity to make a quick run to concessions and nourish myself before the homestretch. After all, I am diabetic, and while my trusty glucose tablets and complimentary lukewarm cups of water were holding me over up until this point, I knew they wouldn’t for long. So off to the food area I went, where I proceeded to wait roughly half hour in a shitshow of a line(s) for some chips (fish not included), before bullying my way back up to the barrier for the remainder of the day. It’s a good thing I made this run when I did, because had I waited any longer, I would’ve been stuck in the peanut gallery. Did I miss anything? Only Gojira absolutely butchering “Under the Sun” (Holy shit, those “vocals”, if you can call them that, are bad) and Mr. Kourtney Kardashian beating his cymbals like they owed him money, so in other words, not much. Next!
Supergroup B
Black Sabbath weren’t Birmingham’s only native sons taking the stage at BTTB. So was K.K. Downing, former guitarist for the mighty Judas Priest, who performed as a sort of delegate for his old mates as they were busy in Germany supporting Scorpions for their 60th anniversary celebration which inconveniently clashed with this. After last weekend’s happenings, Downing can stake claim to having played alongside the best singer of all time (Rob “Metal God” Halford) and worst (Billy Corgan). Look, I know Tom Morello and Corgan are “boys”, both being ’90s alt icons and Chicago based (Libertyville in Morello’s case), but whoever was responsible for letting King Pumpkinhead himself whine his way through Priest’s “Breaking the Law” and Sabbath’s “Snowblind” should be fired at best and put down like Old Yeller at worst. Thankfully, Downing giving his own interpretation of Iommi’s epic outro solo on the latter somewhat redeemed things.
“Red Rocker” Sammy Hagar was next up to bat. In the days since this event, Hagar has caught a lot of flack for his performance, most of it unjustified. Hey, unlike Corgan, at least he can sing! The Red Rocker has been used as a scapegoat for the better part of 40 years, so what difference was another opportunity for Diamond Dave bootlickers to spoil the party? Hagar’s rendition of “Flying High Again” was decent, but it was a rocking take on Montrose’s “Rock Candy” that kicked serious ass. Unfortunately, the majority of the crowd stood like deer in the headlights as Hagar walloped us with this ’70s metal hymn. Have we seriously reached a point where the majority of “metalheads” (the young mainstream-inclined ones, at least) aren’t familiar with “Rock Candy”? I’m almost afraid to ask these youngsters about other ’70s essentials like Rainbow’s “Stargazer” or UFO’s “Rock Bottom”!
Supergroup Set 2: Electric Boogaloo dragged onwards with an unfortunately Jake E. Lee-less rendition of “Bark at the Moon”. Those who’ve kept up with the news leading up to this event are more than aware that, by his own admission, the arthritis-stricken Lee can no longer play his signature song, which is disappointing to say the least. Thankfully, Nuno “MVP of the day” Bettencourt came in clutch, nailing the iconic solo and making up for a pitchy, strained vocal performance from Papa Emeritus whatever the hell number he’s on now from Ghost. Just like Downing a couple songs earlier, here was another axe-man bailing out a lackluster frontman. Were there ANY powerhouse singers left in the wings? Bueller? Frye? Tyler?
Without warning, the Demon of Screamin’ himself, Steven Tyler, came running out from the sidelines, and with a Rolling Stone (or a Face rather?) in tow! Yes, former Sabbath-label mate Ronnie Wood, armed with an old school Les Paul, joined Tyler for an explosive rendition of “Train Kept-A-Rollin'”. This was followed by a group scream-along in “Walk This Way”, and a brief rendition of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”. Much like Osbourne, Tyler too has tragically had to say goodbye to the live stage for his own health reasons.
Whereas Osbourne, ridden with Parkinson’s and a slew of other ailments, sits confined to his black throne, Tyler, a year older than the Ozzman, struts and swaggers with the same finesse as he did half a century ago, never giving the crowd the impression that his career has been reduced to sporadic charity appearances for a song or two. See, if Tyler put his iconic pipes to work any more than he did this past Saturday, he’d run the risk of damaging his vocals even more than he has already, which is something nobody wants to see. This is all the more reason I believe Aerosmith will embark upon their own similarly natured Back to the Beginning-esque event at Fenway Park come next summer, but that’s another editorial for another day. All in all, Tyler delivered the musical highlight of the day, behind only the return of the Prince of Darkness himself. Indeed, the emotion was sweet!
Pantera
A non-musical highlight of the day? Watching Jason Momoa take the stage throughout the day in a different Sabbath shirt every time, each time perpetually drunker than the last. The Aquaman star’s antics reached “A New Level” *ba dum tss* when he decided to make his way to the pit for Pantera, as seen in this now widely circulated clip. As Charlie Benante was already holding down the kit for Anthrax, and Zakk Wylde would obviously be laying down the riffage for Ozzy, it made sense that good ol’ Phil n’ Rex tagged along, even if for a brief medley of their two biggest hits, “Cowboys from Hell” and “Walk”. What’s heavier than PAAAANNNNTTEEERRRAAA? Well, Sabbath, obviously, but hold your horses. We’re getting there!
As we were now in the homestretch, Pantera decided to showoff with not one, but two Sabbath covers. The first, and most obvious, was “Planet Caravan”. I always found it ironic this band, associated with “Strength Beyond Strength”, figuratively and literally, covered this psych-folk oddity, but it has since become as much a staple of the Pantera canon as Sabbath. Closing out their all too brief set was a devastating cover of “Electric Funeral”, which…wait a minute. I know I’m growing delirious by the minute, but didn’t Rival Sons cover this 5 hours earlier? Indeed, they did. Whereas Rival Sons performed the Paranoid banger in its original form, Pantera did it their own groove-laden way, taking it to crucially crushing heights. As the old saying goes, the more “Electric Funeral”, the merrier, or something like that.
Tool
Tool: Now there’s a band I NEVER got! My cousins who’d attend Ozzfest annually in its Y2K heyday swore up and down how “rad” they were. They also said the same about Korn and 311, but I digress. In the years since this attempted musical education gone awry, I’ve come to find most Tool fans to be fedora-wearing atheists or guys named Kyle who aren’t allowed within a mile radius of a school or playground. OK, now I’m just being ridiculous for the sake of being ridiculous. Some of the closest people in my life happen to be Tool diehards, and have tried their hardest to convert me. What I’ve heard over the years sounds like aimless alt rock masquerading as prog and/or metal.
This assessment still stands in the wake of their set at BTTB, but I’ll give Tool credit where credit is due. Their cover of “Hand of Doom”, as much as it pains me to admit it, was solid. In fact, it was actually *gulps*…good! See, I went into their set terrified of how they’d Tool-ify whatever Sabbath classic they chose to have their way with. Shockingly and surprisingly, they instead opted to do a rendition of “Hand of Doom” that largely bore semblance to the original 1970 version. I guess for the mighty Sabs, Hall of Fame contrarian Maynard James Keenan is willing to put his BS to the side for ONE song!
Slayer
After a debut reunion set at Riot Fest that felt underwhelming and phoned in, I must admit that I wasn’t the most excited to see Slayer again. Sure, they’re one of my favorite bands of all time, but would a brief 40 minute set as part of this day long tribute be any better than last year’s 90 minute snooze-fest? Apparently, yes. Despite opening with the cringe-inducing “Disciple”, a song from an era in which Slayer were consciously trying to sound less like Slayer and more like any given band on the Ozzfest parking lot stage circa 2001, the fearsome foursome delivered one of the strongest sets of the day, jam-packed with hits of yesteryear.
“Disciple” gave way to the anthemic “War Ensemble”, at which point the Villa Park floor transformed into a torrent of mosh pits. A far-out rendition of Sabbath’s “Wicked World” with “South of Heaven” thrown in followed, before the one-two punch of “Raining Blood” and “Angel of Death” served as the coup de grace. Perhaps it was the pressure of having the godfathers of metal’s eyes (and the world’s for that matter) on them, but Slayer locked in and delivered with a devilishly heavy set, unleashing pure hell on this mild English evening. Hopefully they can keep this spirit up for subsequent reunion/farewell appearances!
Guns N’ Roses
On paper, Guns N’ Roses should’ve had the best set of the day. They went the extra mile and then some, playing not one, not two, not three, but FOUR Sabbath songs: “It’s Alright”, “Never Say Die”, “Junior’s Eyes”, and “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath”. Crazy, right?! Even crazier is that the band sounded phenomenal! Stripped down to their OG five-piece form, sans keyboardists or whatever other auxiliary bullshit they tour with these days, this was the sound of a band who did their homework, playing these oft-neglected deep cuts with the honor and sanctity they deserve. So where did it all go wrong? I’ll tell you where: W. Axl Rose.
Let the record show that Appetite for Destruction was a crucial gateway album for me in the earliest days of my metal journey. Let the record also show that the Soldier Field stop of their initial reunion tour in 2016 remains one of the greatest shows I’ve ever seen. As that was the last time I’d seen GN’R onstage, I couldn’t help but gawk against the barrier in disbelief. What the hell happened to Axl’s voice? Gone was the fiery venom that the controversial frontman had maintained up until as recent as a decade ago. In its place, a Mickey Mouse-esque falsetto that was comical at best and heart-wrenching at worst. As Rose “huh-huh’ed” his way through “Welcome to the Jungle” and “Paradise City”, I found myself uttering a sentence I never thought would leave these lips: “Bring on Metallica!”
Metallica
My love/hate relationship with Metallica has been going strong for almost 20 years now, the last 5 years of which has been well documented on this here site. After their set at BTTB, it’s leaning towards the “love” side again, as they delivered what was, apart from the main event, hands down the best set of the day. Shockingly, this was my first time catching ‘Tallica live, and they must’ve known I was in the audience (I say this jokingly, of course), because they did not disappoint. 4 all killer, no filler ’80s bangers and two bonafide Sabbath deep cuts? As the kids say, they understood the assignment!
Now I’ve heard for years how seeing Metallica in the flesh was a “religious experience” that every headbanger must do at least once, a sort of metal mecca of sorts. And as I found myself partaking in the infamous, “DIE! DIE! DIE!” chant during “Creeping Death”, I can honestly say I got it. In that moment, this wasn’t the band whose musical output has divided millions or have been the scourge of the underground since the early ’90s; this is the band I fell in love with the first time I heard “Master of Puppets” on 97.9 The Loop at the tender age of 9. Furthermore, their rendition of “Johnny Blade” stole the day and was easily the best cover by a landslide. It’s too bad I seemed to be the only one in my section familiar with it!
Ozzy Osbourne
After a day of homage from the biggest names in metal history, it was time for the main event. As “O Fortuna” exploded out of the PA and footage of Ozzfests past graced the jumbotron, a hatch in front of the stage opened. Rising from it, the Prince of Darkness himself, his arms outstretched and a crazed look upon his face. He may have been confined to a throne, one of the most charismatic frontmen in rock history stricken by the affliction of Parkinson’s and inevitability of aging, but the spirit, the passion, the insanity…it was all there and on full display.
And it was at that very moment, in front of the man who sang “No More Tears”, that I burst into, as the Ozzman sang all those years ago, “a levee of tears”. It was as if I’d been assaulted by a whirlwind of emotions, and didn’t know how to process them, resorting to this primal instinct I’d held back for so long. Part of it was tragedy: Seeing this larger than life figure, my childhood hero, reduced to such a sorry state. And yet, part of it was triumph: Against all odds and the naysayers who said his presence wouldn’t be physically possible, here he was, Ozzy Osbourne, in the flesh. This was his show, and he was about to show us how it’s done.
“LET THE MADNESS BEGIN!!!” With this proclamation, Zakk Wylde went into the opening riff of “I Don’t Know”, and all hell let loose. I headbanged like there was no tomorrow, sang along word for word, and yes, I cried uncontrollably. The tears continued through “Mr. Crowley” and “Suicide Solution”, so by the time “Mama, I’m Coming Home” inevitably kicked in, I already had a three song head start. There wasn’t a dry eye in the stadium as Ozz himself got choked up, powering his way through the iconic power ballad with a performance on par with Johnny Cash’s rendition of “Hurt”. It was raw, imperfect, and no frills, and for those reasons, might just go onto become the essential version of the ’91 classic.
Not one to end things on a sentimental note, the Ozzman invited us “ALL ABOAAARRRDDDD!” the “Crazy Train” for one final ride, complete with a blast from his signature water gun, now attached to the side of his throne. Yes, even seated, Ozzy was up to his old Ozzfest era antics, and having the time of his life while doing so. All of this, I should add, while sounding much better than anybody expected. Whether he could hit the same notes as he did 40-50 years ago was irrelevant. The fact of the matter is, even in this infirmed condition, when Ozzy Osbourne opens his mouth and sings, you know it’s him. The tone, the emotion, the energy: It’s all there and then some, which brings us to our grand finale…
Black Sabbath
According to the schedule, Black Sabbath were supposed to take to the stage roughly 20 minute after Ozzy’s set. Instead, fans were left waiting nearly twice this time. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Clearly, Osbourne had exerted himself over the course of his ambitious five song solo set, and needed time to recuperate prior to taking the stage with his old mates one last time. This was fine by me, as I had all night, and so did the sold-out crowd at Villa Park.
Finally, a video compiling old footage and articles of Sabbath from the ’70s set to the tune of “Sabbra Cadabra” made its way on the screen, before giving way to the unmistakable sound of rain, thunder, and a distant church bell…which then gave way to the equally unmistakable sound of an air raid siren. Perhaps they were supposed to open with “Black Sabbath”, but instead opted for “War Pigs”? This sure seemed to be the case. Either way, as the rotating stage made its way towards the audience, the crowd went wild as Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, and Bill graced our presence for the final time.
“GENERALS GATHERED IN THEIR MASSES!!!” You know the rest. Shockingly, Ozzy Osbourne sounds even stronger for this set than he did his own! Geezer Butler unleashes his signature thunder bass, and Tony Iommi…does it get heavier than this? No, no it doesn’t. 55 years on and his reputation as the “Hand of Doom” remains untouchable, his tone coming off extra lethal on this hallowed evening. Rounding it all out, the legendary Bill Ward, back where he belongs behind the Sabbath kit, and…shirtless? Am I seriously witnessing a nearly 80 year old shirtless Bill Ward? This has to be the most metal thing I’ve ever seen!
“War Pigs” is followed by “N.I.B.”, complete with Geezer’s legendary opening bass solo, which then gives way to “Iron Man”. I’m convinced Iommi’s opening riff can be heard all over England, deafening those wanker Oasis brothers on their current reunion cash-grab. Just as quickly as it starts, it ends, with a final, frenetic run-through of “Paranoid”, during which Oz demands the crowd goes “fucking crazy” one last time. Yes, he’s occasionally offkey. Yes, Bill Ward screws up the ending of “War Pigs”. But again, it’s these imperfections, in a world of backing tracks, autotune, and Milli Vanilli-esque miming, that makes this very set here all the more special.
Here they were, the four men who invented this very genre we take for granted, showing us how it was done one last time. Their very presence on this evening was nothing short of miraculous, taking all circumstances into consideration. And yet they truly did it their way, not letting failing health and old age hinder their performance. Black Sabbath didn’t go out with a whimper. They went out with a fucking bang, and we should all be in awe of that.
Afterword
Now that I’ve had a little over a week to fully process, analyze, and capture the good, the bad, and the ugly of Back to the Beginning, I can wholeheartedly say that I bore witness to a true one-off if there ever was one. Never in the history of metal has there been a show of this caliber, and I’m convinced there never will be again. A band like Sabbath comes along once in a lifetime. To be able to sendoff an act of such legendary caliber in equally legendary fashion, outside of a memorial show, is unimaginable, but leave it to Sharon Osbourne to make the impossible a reality.
Speaking of Mrs. O, how about that potential cash-grab we discussed in the opening passage? Well folks, I’m pleased to announce that between ticket sales, merch sales, and streaming revenue, Back to the Beginning raised nearly $200 million dollars, all of which will be split equally between three charities of Sabbath’s choice: Acorns Children’s Hospice, Birmingham Children’s Hospital, and Cure Parkinson’s. If that isn’t the best thing you’ll read all day, I don’t know what is. So there you have it: A cash-grab, shockingly, this was not.
When the heavy metal history books are written again, as they are every few years to remain current by the likes of Ian Christe or Martin Popoff, Back to the Beginning will go down as easily the biggest metal show of all time, and a fitting farewell to metal’s forefathers. To have experienced this event firsthand was nothing short of surreal, and I’ll forever be grateful to have been one of those lucky 40,000…or 50,000, depending on who you ask. To Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, and Bill, thank you for scoring the soundtrack of my life. I couldn’t imagine my existence without you, and neither could hundreds of millions of others. You truly are, now and forever, “Lords of This World”. SABBATH FOREVER!!! BIRMINGHAM FOREVER!!!
Black Sabbath: 1968 – Forever