I AM OZZY

Ozzy Osbourne

Ozzy’s long-awaited autobiography, ghost written with Chris Ayres, is full of decadent tales of a lifetime of heavy metal drug-fuelled madness, depression, craziness, and… not a lot else.

The problem may well be Ozzy’s long-admitted near-raddled memory bank: The stories related herein – with a few scant exceptions – are the “populist” tales we have all heard a thousand times, the ones even my Mum has overheard or read about in her gossip magazines.

Whilst it is great to read about these legendary episodes (pissing on the Alamo, biting the heads off doves, chomping on a bat, snorting ants with Motley Crue, butchering the family chickens with a shotgun, attempting to strangle the missus etc etc ) as told by the man himself, overall the impression is that the book has been written for Ozzy’s (and Sharon’s) newer “reality TV” audience, and not for his die hard musical fanbase.

“I Am Ozzy” is an enjoyable read – Ozzy has always been a likeable and charismatic character, even at his most unlikable, and despite his obvious problems – but it really only scratches the surface of the man himself, preferring instead to focus almost entirely on the “character” (or caricature) he has allowed himself to come, at least on screen.

The book’s biggest failing is it’s bloody minded determinedness to largely ignore the music itself – exactly what made Ozzy who he is. With some more focus on the songs from both the Sabbath and solo years, as well as the numerous collaborations he has recorded over the years, and some more information about the many brilliant musicians he has worked with (Randy Rhoads gets star billing here, but few others are even mentioned), this could have been a far more interesting and essential tome for the average rock fan.

By the time I reached the last page, I was left wondering how John Michael Osbourne felt about the events described within by this Ozzy character, and what exactly had he learnt from the rollercoaster ride of self abuse he put himself through?

Shane & Trulie