I’m an American music producer. And the first time I stepped foot on Sri Lankan soil, I had Ozzy Osbourne to thank.
Let me explain. By most reckonings, Black Sabbath invented the musical genre of heavy metal. And as its inimitable front man, Ozzy Osbourne – who passed away this week at the age of 76 – was the face, the voice, and the image of that brand-new genre. Put simply, Ozzy was heavy metal incarnate.
Prior to Sabbath and Ozzy, it is broadly true that pop and rock musicians were largely thought of as entertainers. And there’s nothing wrong with that – we all need entertainment in our lives.
Entertainer
But Ozzy wasn’t really an entertainer. Rather, Ozzy inspired people. He helped people know that they weren’t alone.
Ozzy Osbourne at his last peformance (July 5, 2025)
When Ozzy sang about depression (as in “Paranoid”), you felt it. Or when he sang about a bad breakup (“Changes”). Or when he sang about the powerlessness of living in a world ruled by constant war (“War Pigs”). It created a space where it was okay to say, “Yeah. Me too, Ozzy. Me too.”
People identified with Ozzy— with what his music represented. And that’s why, to this day, metal fans from Birmingham, England (Ozzy’s hometown) to Colombo, Sri Lanka, all wear the same uniform: black clothes, long hair, tattoos, and often sunglasses as well. It’s not just about letting people know that you dig slamming drums and impossibly loud guitars. It’s about declaring to yourself and to the world: I feel the way Ozzy felt.
As legacies go, I can’t really imagine a better one than giving people permission to be who they are and to feel how they feel. And as much as anything else, heavy metal is just that: a feeling. A mixture of anger, outrage, despair, and yet hope – in spite of how overwhelmingly difficult life can sometimes be.
And that feeling is so recognisable that it transcends borders, languages, time zones, and geographies. You know it when you encounter it.
It was eight years ago now that I came across a metal musician who had posted a cover performance online. I didn’t know who they were or where they were from, but I listened to their singing and immediately recognised that feeling that metal has – that feeling Ozzy told the world it was okay to feel.
I was sitting in Chicago, listening to a performance from a singer in Sri Lanka, but there was an immediate connection. Because metal is a feeling we all share. And again, you know it when you hear it.
Together
So, I reached out and asked this vocalist if we could work together. He said yes and his singing has been on rock radio in the US ever since, where listeners have connected with that feeling in his voice exactly the way that I first did.
Jed Brewer
Over the next several years, I met and collaborated with more and more Sri Lankan metal musicians – all of us working together in the style of music that Ozzy and his friends invented. My Sri Lankan friends went into recording studios to lay down tracks dressed in all black and with long hair – exactly the way Ozzy had shown us to do it.
One of those bands – Silence of Loud – wrote a song called Awakashaye. It was a hit in the Sri Lankan metal scene. When we were putting together the recording, I reached out to a colleague to help shape the final sound of the track. He brought the music to life, just as he had done a few years back for – yes – Ozzy Osbourne.
Then, finally, a few years ago, I touched down at the Bandaranaike International Airport for the very first time. I wandered out into the 90% humidity of an early spring evening – and got a huge hug from a friend I’d been making metal music with for years, but had never actually met in person.
Truly and literally, metal had brought us together from opposite sides of the world.
Fearless
That moment – and the story arc that led to it – happened because of heavy metal music. And heavy metal music happened because Ozzy Osbourne was willing to be fearless and vulnerable and share how he was feeling, even in the unforgiving context of a hardscrabble town like Birmingham. And if he could do it there, metal fans can do it in Colombo, too.
There are a million ways to memorialise someone you’ve lost. But I want to encourage you to consider something very specific. This weekend, take the time to let someone share with you how they’re really feeling – the tough, ugly, difficult parts. Then nod and say, “Yeah, me too.” Then turn on Crazy Train at maximum volume and scream along until your voice is hoarse, your ears are ringing, but you feel even a little bit better.
This is what Ozzy Osbourne did for me, and for heavy metal fans in Sri Lanka, and for the whole wide world. And as long as we keep doing it for each other, heavy metal – and Ozzy’s memory – will never, ever die.
Jed Brewer is the founder of Good Loud Media. He is a leading musical journalist who writes for the Rolling Stone and our very own Sunday Observer MUSE
