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Ozzy and Joel, 2001 |
It’s no surprise that part of the nearly $200 million raised at Ozzy’s final concert just 17 days ago will go to a children’s hospital. After all, he had been saving lives with his music since 1970.
He was more than a singer. Those weren’t just songs he sang — he was the voice of those who struggled to find their own. The outcasts. The misunderstood. The “losers.” The people who looked at their current circumstances, or their lives to come, and thought, “What is this that stands before me?” He stood for us and held us up until he physically couldn’t any longer — and then, 40,000 of his people gathered in their masses at an arena in Birmingham to stand for HIM. A poor post-war Brit grew up to lead the greatest charity concert in history, just a short walk from the war-torn streets that raised him. That’s a perfect narrative — and the most metal-as-fuck thing imaginable.
What a life. What a fucking man.
My love and deepest condolences to his family and dear friends — especially Bill, whose grief is surely immeasurable.
The Prince of Darkness gave us light.
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com