THE BEAST

Every Day Should Be Ozzy Day: A Personal Tribute to the Prince of Darkness

By Zachary Moonshine

It’s been a week since the world lost one of heavy metal’s greatest icons — Ozzy Osbourne — and I still can’t believe the Madman is really gone. The outpouring of love online has been overwhelming, with fans suggesting that we declare a national Ozzy Day . Honestly, I’m down to make every damn day Ozzy Day.

For me, Ozzy wasn’t just a legend on a stage or a voice in my headphones — he was the very reason I fell in love with heavy metal in the first place. Whenever someone asks me which artist I’ve seen live the most, the answer is always Ozzy. Whether it was his solo tours, his days fronting Black Sabbath, or headlining Ozzfests — I’ve seen him more times than I can count.

My Introduction to the Madman

I was just a kid in the early '80s when Ozzy first entered my world. I remember seeing the “Bark at the Moon” video on MTV — maybe on Headbangers Ball , or maybe even before that show existed. Around that time, the media painted Ozzy as this terrifying, almost mythical figure. The infamous bat story, the satanic rumors, the headlines — it all created this mysterious and dangerous allure.

In 1986, I was 8 years old and just discovering rock and metal. My cassette collection at the time included Slippery When Wet , Shout at the Devil , Theatre of Pain , and a dubbed tape of Iron Maiden’s Number of the Beast . I blasted those albums on my little boombox like they were gospel. Thankfully, I didn’t grow up in a religious household, and my mom supported my musical curiosity.

One day, my babysitter — a classic ’80s rocker chick — scored tickets to see Bon Jovi with Cinderella at the Capitol Centre in Landover, Maryland (yes, the same venue from the cult classic Heavy Metal Parking Lot ). They had an extra ticket and asked my mom if I could come along. She said yes.

That night blew my young mind. I stood on my seat just to see the stage. The lights, the sound, the crowd — and yes, the wave of women flashing the band the moment they came onstage — it was wild. I was hooked.

“That’s Grown Folks Music”

Soon after that, my babysitter brought me to her apartment, and her boyfriend was chilling on the couch, flipping through a stack of tapes. I noticed some Ozzy and Black Sabbath albums and got curious. I asked him what they sounded like. He laughed and said something like, “That’s grown folks music. Too dark, too heavy for kids. You stick to your Motley Crüe, kid.”

Well, that was all the motivation I needed. A few weeks later, I went to the local record store with my allowance and headed straight to the Ozzy section. I saw Bark at the Moon … almost bought it. But then I spotted Speak of the Devil — the double cassette with that demonic cover of Ozzy, vampire fangs and blood dripping — and I knew I had to have it.

As soon as we got in the car, I popped it into my Walkman. The moment “Symptom of the Universe” blasted through my headphones, I was transported to another world. Ozzy’s voice, the rawness, the wild stage banter, the profanity — it felt real. It felt dangerous. And it felt right . That was my gateway to the real heavy metal, and I was never the same after that.

The Live Experience

Fast forward to the early ’90s. I’m in high school, now living in Phoenix, Arizona. Right after No More Tears, Ozzy had just released or was getting ready to release Ozzmosis, and he was at the height of his career. Sepultura — another band I was deeply into — was opening for him. We scored tickets, and when Ozzy walked on stage and screamed “Let’s go fucking crazy!” , the place exploded. Goosebumps. Total mayhem.

But what I remember most from that night wasn’t the chaos — it was the love. Ozzy kept saying “I love you” to the crowd, over and over. That always stuck with me. It wasn’t just a catchphrase; it was real . He meant it.

After that show, I never missed another Ozzy concert for the next two decades. I followed his career like a religion. I bought every record, every reissue. I dove deeper into Black Sabbath, and eventually, I realized something:

Ozzy and Sabbath weren’t just bands. They were the blueprint for everything that came after.

The Legacy Lives On

Today, I run a heavy metal PR company, a metal radio show and station, and I help organize a metal music festival. None of that would’ve been possible if that one cassette tape hadn’t found its way into my hands all those years ago. None of this would exist if Black Sabbath — the song that started it all — hadn’t been recorded.

It’s wild to think about. The ripple effect of one band, one voice, one madman from Birmingham, England… It changed my entire life. And I know I’m not alone.

So thank you, Ozzy.
Thank you, Black Sabbath.
Thank you for creating the sound that defined a generation — and built an entire culture.

Rest in peace, Ozzy. We love you. Forever.

🖤⚡
#OzzyOsbourne #BlackSabbath #RIPOzzy #PrinceOfDarkness #HeavyMetalLegend #OzzyDayEveryDay