There will come a day, far too soon for any of us to bear, when the world will have to carry on without the presence of a true metal deity. But that day is not today.
This is not a goodbye. This is a thank you.
Ozzy, you are and always will be more than a legend. You are a force. A voice that pierced the silence and summoned an entire genre from the darkness. You didn’t just help create heavy metal — you became its soul. From the eerie toll of a church bell in the rain to the wild chaos of “Crazy Train,” you gave life to something primal, something liberating, something eternal.
When Black Sabbath unleashed their first chord, the ground shifted beneath us. Music was no longer just sound — it became a weapon, a shield, a sanctuary. And at the very center of that sonic storm was you: wild-eyed, unfiltered, otherworldly, and human all at once. Your voice — sometimes a wail, sometimes a whisper — has been the soundtrack to rebellion, resilience, and raw emotion for generations.
But more than the music, it’s your spirit that captivates us. That mix of darkness and humor, chaos and clarity. You’ve shown us that being different isn’t just okay — it’s powerful. That you can be broken, weird, misunderstood — and still become a legend.
You’ve made us laugh with your offbeat charm. You’ve made us cry with your openness. You’ve made us bang our heads with pure, unrelenting joy. You’ve brought generations of metalheads together with anthems that still shake stadiums decades later. And whether it was with Sabbath or as a solo artist, you’ve always stayed real — and that’s rarer than any platinum record.
Ozzy, thank you for everything. For the riffs that feel like war drums, for the lyrics that feel like prophecy, for being a survivor, an icon, and a friend to every outsider who found a home in heavy metal. Your legacy is indestructible. Even when the day comes that you’re no longer with us, you will never truly be gone. Your music will echo through speakers, through generations, and through the souls of every artist you’ve ever inspired.
Until that day, we raise our horns high. We scream your name from festival fields and bedroom walls alike. We keep your flame burning loud and proud.
From the deepest pit of my metal-loving heart: thank you, Ozzy. For being the Prince of Darkness and the King of our hearts.
With the deepest respect,
A grateful fan,
Craig Siderio
Now, as an independent artist walking the trail blazed by giants like you, I carry the lessons and energy of your music into everything I create. It’s not easy being independent in a world of noise, algorithms, and fleeting trends — but it’s worth it when the music is real. When it matters.
My latest single is a tribute to the raw power of sound, to the untamed spirit that lives in every true musician, and to the influence of those like you who taught us that music isn’t just heard — it’s felt.
The song is called “Ashes in the Rain” — a heavy, emotionally charged anthem that draws from the echoes of Sabbath’s doom-laden atmosphere and pairs it with a modern, hard-hitting intensity. It’s about the pain of watching something beautiful fall apart, the weight of loss, and the strange hope that still flickers in the ruins. I poured everything I had into it — my struggles, my rage, my love for this genre that gave me life.
If even a few people find something real in it, something that helps them through a hard day or connects them to something deeper — then I’ve done my job.
So if you’re a fan of metal, of honesty in music, or if you’ve ever been moved by a scream in the dark or a whisper in the noise — I invite you to give it a listen. Play it loud. Let it roar. And if it speaks to you, share it. Every listen means the world to someone like me — someone trying to carve their voice into the wall of sound that Ozzy helped build.
I know I’m just one small voice in a sea of artists. But every empire starts with a scream. Every legend starts with a spark.
Thank you, Ozzy, for being the reason so many of us picked up a mic, a guitar, a pen. And thank you to every listener who gives a chance to those of us fighting to be heard. The spirit of metal is alive and well — and it lives in all of us who still believe in its power.
