I’m not sure it was a surprise to anyone that John Michael ‘Ozzy’ Osbourne passed away yesterday, July 22nd. He had clearly been in ill health for quite some time and had lived hard for much of his early life. What was a surprise was the impact it had on me emotionally. I haven’t listened to Ozzy or Black Sabbath music for many years. Sure it rolled up in the playlist on XM a few times, but my musical journey has taken me down many roads from the days when my hair was longer and my tastes ran to darker and harder music. I never watched the reality TV show about Ozzy and his family, nor did I attend any of the many live music events.

Yet after hearing the news of his demise and subsequently looking up this picture (the way I remember Ozzy) I was struck by the deep emotional chord that it struck in my heart. Like Ozzy, I was once an emotionally challenged teenager. I didn’t fit into any of the social groups in my school and I struggled to manage some deeply unpleasant things that I later learned I had in common with the the artist who’s music I immersed myself in so readily. I never bought into the pseudo-occult themes. It was more the lyrics of songs like Crazy Train and You Can’t Kill Rock n Roll and the virtuoso guitar of Randy Rhoads. They reached things in places that I tried to bury but could never quite manage to.

Ozzy struggled with substance abuse most of his life. As a younger man I indulged in a fair amount of drinking, perhaps in an attempt to numb feelings that I couldn’t bury deeply enough, perhaps to fit in socially. Alcohol and emotional struggles were not quite as debilitating for me, but I could relate. Thankfully faith and counseling have helped me find my way. I’ve heard rumors that Ozzy was a member of the Church of England and was given to pre-show prayers. Perhaps the Prince of Darkness is in heaven today. I’d like to think so.

I can’t relate at all to the lifestyle of a rock star, but I’ve spent days and month and years traveling on the road for business. It’s wonderful and terrible. And the older I get the more I appreciate home. I have to think that Ozzy and a few of his contemporaries feel (felt) the same way. I say this as I had occasion to discuss this a bit in casual conversation with Ted Nugent, as we had dinner at the same sushi bar and he was preparing to leave to do a show. He made it clear that he preferred more often to be home with his wife and his dogs than be on the road, even though he still loved to perform on stage. I’m sure the momentum of a life of entertaining is hard to overcome.

I’ll conclude by submitting that I think the loss of so many of those who made music and entertained us in the days and years of our youth (Malcom-Jamal Warner of the Cosby Show recently passed) marks time in a morbid and profound way. Perhaps the contemplation of my own mortality was part of the emotion that elicited a tear when I heard about Ozzy’s passing. Profound condolences to Ozzy’s family and friends. Rock stars may come and go, but as Ozzy reminded us, You can’t kill rock and roll.