Ozzy Osborne? Hmm . . .
Do the words "Prince of Darkness" mean anything to you?*
In 1969 in Britain, two highly curious events happened. Five guys from Oxbridge schools recorded the first episodes of the TV show Monty Python’s Flying Circus, and four guys from Birmingham recorded the first album of the rock group Black Sabbath. Both events dramatically changed their respective creative arts.
The most famous member of Black Sabbath was Ozzy Osborne, who passed away this week. Tributes poured in for Ozzy, especially in the British media, who lionized Ozzy as a legend — a label the British media uses for every dead British former star. The tributes repeated the long repeated honorific that Ozzy and Black Sabbath invented the heavy metal genre. Maybe so, although I’ve never cared much for genre labels, and, with all due respect, The Who and Led Zeppelin had already ploughed the field of British hard rock. Nevertheless, Black Sabbath planted seeds in that fertile field, and they deserve credit for that.
Now, let’s be honest, the four guys from Birmingham named their band “Black Sabbath” hoping to get a rise out of people. 1969 was the year of that in British music. Heavy metal was designed to get a rise out of people. It worked. I’ve never been a big fan of that music, though some of it is good for blowing off tension. I've long enjoy watching right-wing prudes blow gaskets believing it really was music from the devil. Ozzy taking on the nickname “The Prince of Darkness” was a great way to take the piss of the pseudo-religious prigs.
The interesting thing about Ozzy — a madman so long associated with satanic music — is that off stage he seems to have been a nice guy. He was good to his fans, helped foster other musicians, and seemed a fairly affable sort. He did sing that he hoped we learn how to love and forget how to hate. Crazy, but that’s how it goes.
Nice people can perform and listen to heavy metal, just like mean people can perform and listen to “nice” music. Of course, Black Sabbath set down a marker in pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable. Later musicians tried to push those boundaries further, developing death metal, thrash metal, this metal, that metal, taking the satanic thing to silly extremes, and so on. It all helped some kids give the finger to authority figures and wallow in their sense of isolation. (Hey, as teens we all mollified some of our dark moments listening to Ozzy sing “Paranoid.”)
As long as you don’t take it too seriously, it’s all good. Of course, some people do take it too seriously, and I imagine some stoner metalheads somewhere are bitching that Ozzy was too soft, didn’t do “real metal,” or some such.
It’s all just too much pretension, artifice, and posturing for my tastes. I prefer the straightforward honesty of world fusion music. You don't need to put on airs or cloaks of doom and gloom. As important a part of life as music is, it shouldn't be one’s identity or something to fight over. Regardless of whatever music anyone likes, be nice. Nice counts. People need to chill; Ozzy was good at that.
* The subtitle is from the brilliant 1967 movie Bedazzled that starred Peter Cook (as the “Prince of Darkness”) and Dudley Moore.