September 12, 1980 - Apollo Theatre, Glasgow, Scotland

October 18, 1980 - City Hall, Hull, England

October 31, 1980 - The Dome, Brighton, England (some kind of retro/past review)

May 20, 1981 - Riverside Theater, Milwaukee, Wisconsin - (2)

June 23, 1981 - Community Center Arena, Tucson, Arizona - (2)

June 27, 1981 - Arena, Long Beach, California

July 4, 1981 - Coliseum, Oakland, California

July 13, 1981 - Paramount Theatre, Seattle, Washington

July 26, 1981 - Jock Harty Arena, Kingston, Ontario

August 1, 1981 - Port Vale FC, Stoke on Trent, England

August 9, 1981 - Cape Cod Coliseum, South Yarmouth, Massachusettes

August 29, 1981 - Morris Civic Auditorium, South Bend, Indiana

September 12, 1980

Apollo Theatre, Glasgow, Scotland

(No headline or image)

Friday night at the Glasgow Apollo. The houselights were up, roadies milling back and forth onstage yet sizeable pockets of the crowd remained rooted, defiantly calling for more. And backstage it was chaos. Oversized bouncers shoe-horned into their Levis trying to organize the 50 or so jubilant fans determined to claim an autograph and a handshake from their hero, whilst outside another cheery mob lay seige to the stage door... Not a particularly novel scenario it's true, you'd probably find much the same euphoria at a Rod Stewart or Kate Bush bash, but when the hand everyone wants to shake is attached to former Black Sabbath vocalist Ozzy Osbourne then the whole time-honoured ritual assumes a distinctly less hollow significance. Sabbath, y'see, were unique, a band the critics loved to hate and the kids themselves just loved, but for many, myself included, Ozzy was the best thing about them. A working class boy from Brum who got off his arse and made good but who never scorned the ranks from which he'd risen. He was the kids and they really were him, it was really as simple as that. And now, after many moons of soulsearching and footfinding, Ozzy has blown back on to the scene with Blizzard of Ozz, a new band consisting of mostly old faces. On drums we have the redoubtable Lee Kerslake (ex-Uriah Heep / Blind Ambition), on bass Bob Daisley (ex-Widowmaker / Rainbow) and on guitar Randy Rhoads (ex-LA band Quiet Riot and former college guitar tutor), a new name at present but with a lightning technique, smacking of Schenker, Moore and at times Hendrix. It shouldn't be long before he gains the clenched-fisted approval of the denim cognoscenti. As the Apollo was the first date on the band's 17-date nation-wide tour and, with the exception of two "secret" gigs is Blackpool and Cromer under the name Law, their first live appearance together there was a good deal of pre-gig tension backstage. Happily, though, that's where it remained despite a few technical hitches the evening proved a joyful celebration of Ozzy's return with every one of the two thousand plus crowd willing them to do well and the spotlessly attired Ozz obliging them.

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October 18, 1980

City Hall, Hull, England

Hull City Hall: "Blizzard of Ozz." Heavy Rock fell on Hull on Saturday night and crushed a few ear drums. For the band put together by former Black Sabbath singer Ozzie Osbourne played it loud. Very loud. For much of the rather short set - barely an hour - about 1,400 rock fans were bombarded by a wall of sound. But if all the flailing heads wanted was atmosphere, then they got an extra dose courtesy of Blizzard. The action and the music was frenetic, particularly when the trio of Sabbath numbers, capped inevitably by "Paranoid," were blasted out like there was no tomorrow. Not for anyone - and I suppose there must have been some - needing to hear the music of an untried new band galloping ahead on the strength of past glories with other outfits, it was disappointing. More often that not, the bass of Bob Daisley (ex-Rainbow), guitar of new-boy Randy Rhoades from California, and Osbourne's familiar strangled vocals combined on a nearly indiscernible level. Even that driving cacophony was second fiddle to the crashing beat of gentleman drummer Lee Kerslake, for many years Uriah Heap's backbone. ROCK CLASSICS - The band have released one album and that was the basis of the set. One or two of the tracks stand out as possible rock classics, such as "Crazy Train" and "Suicide Solution," but on this night they were barely distinguishable from the rest. There was some justification for not delivering the goods, I spoke to Osbourne after the concert. He looked, and said he felt terrible. Nervously chewing on an orange, to sooth his strained vocal chords, he admitted: "I wasn't good tonight. After all these weeks on the road - and more to come - I am completely exhausted." His tiredness certainly showed on stage. Well-known as a rock wildman, he looked and behaved by his standards more like a teddy bear in need of a good night's sleep. Osbourne has been having treatment for a bad throat. Given a good rest and a better meshing of the band's undoubted abilities, next time round may be worth seeing - and hearing! The success - for it was a success because of the electric atmosphere - was due in no small measure to support band Budgie. They have been around for years, always hovering on the brink of stardom. On Saturday night they showed their class with a tight set of rock, drawing on all their experience. They got the fans on their feet by hitting hard with simple cliched rock - a style of music the band actually helped become a cliché!

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October 31, 1980

The Dome, Brighton, England

"From the Vaults - A classic concert from the past"

"Ozzy! Ozzy! Ozzy!" The Dome audience began the time honoured chant, building to a frenzied crescendo as the lights dimmed and the Old Spice ad jingle filled the air - how Satanic! But make no mistake, in late 1980, Ozzy Osbourne was on a roll, and tonight was one of 16 gigs added by public demand to his triumphant comeback itinerary. Against all the odds, the former Black Sabbath front man had bounced back with an amazing backing band that included one of the musical descoveries of the decade in guitarist Randy Rhoads. The 'Blizzard of Ozz' album had been universally praised, and Osbourne was obviously keen to play upon his exciting future as equally as his glorious past. Whether by design or otherwise, Ozzy's return to the fray had coincided with that of his ex-bandmates Sabbath, and the pressure was seemingly on. Earlier on in this tour, a typically belligerent Ozzy had asked a Newcastle audience: "What do you think of Dio, then? Yeah, right. Same as me. Here's some songs I used to do with Sabbath before they employed a midget. How can a four-foot poof sing about the devil?" Looking thinner, healthier and more enthusiastic than many of us had imagined, the old showman leapt around the stage indulging in his usual pantomime-style bufoonery. "Let me hear you f*cking people," he bellowed. "At the count of three I want you all to shout 'yeah!' We're gonna do one now that's entitled 'Crazy Train'. All Aboard! ha ha ha ha..." During the latter number ex-Quiet Riot man Rhoads validated his rapidly snowballing guitar gunslinger reputation, the satin-panted axeman peeling out note after spellbinding note over fluid rhythmic contribution from bassist Bob Daisley and drummer Lee Kerslake. (Both of whom would be for the chop within a year, to be replaced by the more visually appealing pairing of Rudy Sarzo and Tommy Aldridge). Sure, there was the odd iffy moment like 'You looking at me', but 'Revelation (Mother Earth)' and the soon to be hit ballad 'Goodbye to Romance' demonstrated Ozzy's often overlooked melodic alter-ego. While 'No Bone Movies' and the daunting 'Suicide Solution' were built around Rhoads' hugely impressive riffs. All of this plus a superbly grandoise 'Mr. Crowley', introduced with a dramatic keyboard flourish from Lindsay Bridgewater, making it nothing less than a stunning melding of musicianship and commerciality. Spurning a solo spot in the traditional sense, Rhoads chose the aforementioned 'Suicide Solution' to show off what he was really capable of, juxtaposing stinging riff sections with blazing solos into a glorious cacophonous din. Alas, Kerslake opted for the more formal route, although his brief percussive demonstration prefaced the first Sabbath number of the night, 'Iron Man'. Ecstatic South coast punters whooped with joy as the song segued into a pneumatic - if perhaps slightly rushed - 'Children of the Grave', the fringed jacketed Osbourne reminding us for at least the fiftieth time that night that he loved us all, and that we should do now was go f*cking crazy. Just to emphasize that this wasn't exclusively an oldies road show, the set proper closed with a frantic 'Steal Away (the Night)', one of the new albums undoubted standout tracks. Obviously the crowd had no intention of letting Ozzy go without hearing 'Paranoid'. "What do you wanna hear?" he teased, before his beaming sidekick Randy cranked new life and a dazzlingly original solo into the timeless old behemoth. Indisputably, it was one of those great moments in rock. Never before had £2.50 been more wisely spent. -Dave Ling.

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May 20, 1981

Riverside Theater, Milwaukee, Wisconsin - (1)

One of the legends of heavy-metal rock took Milwaukee by storm Wednesday night with a one hour blizzard. Ozzy Osbourne, former lead singer with Black Sabbath, blew away the audience at the Riverside Theater with the sound that made him famous, this time accompanied by his new band, Blizzard of Ozz. Osbourne offered virtually nothing new musically or in showmanship from the days with Black Sabbath, which he left in 1979 well before last year's violence-shortened Sabbath concert in Milwaukee. Both the hippie shirt that Osbourne wore and the Richard Nixon victory pose he struck throughout the concert had been part of his image when Black Sabbath was at its peak. Osbourne's voice was high and reedy - and not very good - as usual. When he wasn't singing, he was shaking to the music or urging the crowd to clap along. Several times he told the crowd that he and the band loved them. Osbourne seemed content to perpetuate his image - his act was predictable - but the audience loved it. His somewhat stagy exuberance kept the audience on its feet through the first 50 minutes, when he did all new material. Osbourne's new material, virtually indistinguishable from the haunting, hulking sound of Black Sabbath, was almost convincing enough to make the audience forget about the Sabbath tunes they certainly came to hear. And a couple of the new numbers had a new dimension: an occasional melody. The themes of the lyrics (when you could make them out) were of death and gloom, of course. Blizzard of Ozz, a quality power trio, was not relegated to back-up status. Its members showed nearly as much personality as Osbourne. Guitarist Randy Rhoads is the personification of the heavy-metal guitarist, cranking out solo runs in the classic style of Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page, Black Sabbath's Tony Iommi and VanHalen's Eddie VanHalen. Bassist Rudy Sarzo, unlike many bass players, was animated. Drummer Tommy Aldridge gripped the audience with a five-minute madman solo.

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May 20, 1981

Riverside Theater, Milwaukee, Wisconsin - (2)

With complete confidence and unrestrained energy, Ozzy Osbourne played the Pied Piper of teeth-grinding, heavy metal rock at the Riverside Theater Wednesday night. Although now with his own band - the Blizzard of Ozz - the former lead vocalist for Black Sabbath took the near capacity crowd exactly where he wanted it; driving it to a frenetic pitch by doing what he does best: acting and screaming. Osbourne's vocals were driving, volatile and, occasionally, on key. However, that is not important. To his fans, destroying decibels are expected. Osbourne opened with predictable panache, complete with sweeping stage lights, pounds of sleeve fringe and dry ice. In complete command of his audience, Osbourne rifled through his newer recordings, leaving the crowd waiting for what it came for - traditional head-banging classics from his Black Sabbath days. Nostalgia, if nothing else, made the older songs much better than the newer selections. Osbourne screeched through "Iron Man" and "Paranoid" with such familiarity that the band frequently was left behind. Motorhead, another British-based, heavy metal band, warmed up the crowd with demanding, though fairly bland, rock.

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June 23, 1981

Community Center Arena, Tucson, Arizona - (1)

The fact that Ozzy Osbourne's music is excruciatingly loud, noisy and unimaginative is not the issue here. Ozzy Osbourne's music is heavy metal music (term used loosely), and to succeed in that particular genre, it must be all of the above. The fact that Ozzy Osbourne can't sing, and can barely shout, is not the issue here, either. Aesthetics is not a consideration when were talking about heavy metal. The issue that was raised at the Ozzy Osbourne and the Blizzard of Ozz concert last night at the Tucson Community Center Arena was that of the power a rock star (term used loosely) has over his followers. Here is where Osbourne, former lead singer of Black Sabbath, overstepped his bounds. As the curtain opened Osbourne, dressed all in white with fringes hanging down the length of his sleeves, was lit from behind by a powerful white light. His presence was awesome. He assumed the same eerie position later, casting a shadow in front of the smoky white light. He exhorted the audience to raise its collective arms in support. They complied immediately. The sight of all those close-packed, uplifted fists was scary. Throughout the evening, Osbourne referred to the 2,750 in the audience as "my people" and "my babies." It sounded strange, and I couldn't help but think about Jim Jones. Osbourne's lyrics, too, are somewhat creepy. He and songwriting collaborators Bob Daisley (bassist) and Randy Rhoads (guitarist) seem obsessed with impending doom, in songs like "I Don't Know," "Crazy Train" and "Suicide Solution." The words have an omniscient tone, appropriate for a benign dictator or a heavy-handed sage.

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June 23, 1981

Community Center Arena, Tucson, Arizona - (2)

Ozzy Osbourne, former lead singer with the British heavy metal group Black Sabbath, is deeply into the imagery of worship on his present world tour heading The Blizzard of Ozz. His music is still the sort that is uplifting to head bashers and maniacs on motorcycles, but Osbourne is now a long-haired figure who dresses all in white - with long fringe on his sleeves. He often stands with arms outstretched, his body bathed in glowing light, as rock 'n' roll crashes and surges around him at ear-splitting levels of volume. Osbourne is in his onstage temple, encouraging the faithful to "keep smoking that good weed." Between numbers he was constantly shouting affirmations of the need to get high together. At one point he screamed, "You're my audience. You're my people." The stage design for this symbolic setting is centered on Tommy Aldrich, sitting behind his drums on an alter-like platform above the stage. Looking monolithic as time itself, he provides the rhythm. Out front with Osbourne, at his right and left hands respectively, are bassist Rudy Sarzo and guitarist Randy Rhodes. Both are slender figures dressed in tight-fitting red jump suits. They could represent the surrounding powers of Satan, or the blood of life, or the wine of communion. During Rhodes' feature solo, however, he played a fork-boiled guitar. And on drummer Aldrich's solo, his kit of instruments was lit from behind so the huge circular frame holding the gong was reflected like a halo. The role of Osbourne as savior was reinforced on several occasions by having the stage kept black while white light splashed onto Osbourne's head and shoulders like heavenly sunshine filtered through the clouds. The song list included titles such as "Suicide Solution" and "Mr. Prowl." It is music played with more lyricism, less intimidation, than many heavy metal groups employ. Osbourne was also more restrained. Though he was always moving about, caught up in the mood of each piece, he never projected dementia. "I'm more mature now," said Osbourne backstage after the show. "Not mellowing, but having a better time. Being myself." The singer says he doesn't miss his years with Black Sabbath. Towards the end all the members hated each other anyway so performing was always difficult. "Everyone saw me as the village idiot, the clown," said Osbourne. "But even a clown can get sad." The words had a mournful tone, implying much that is counteracted by the imagery of Osbourne's first major tour leading his own group. Opening the show was Motorhead, another English band, vengefully dedicated to exploring what it would sound like if the assembly line at an auto sheet metal stamping plant was being destroyed by bazooka fire. After giving their rigidly rhythmic interpretations, these musicians walked off stage and an air siren wailed. It was the most melodic portion of their set.

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June 27, 1981

Arena, Long Beach, California

Surely an unlikely candidate for career longevity, former Black Sabbath vocalist Ozzy Osbourne staged a comeback of sorts before a sellout crowd at the Long Beach Arena on Saturday. Neither a stand out singer nor a particularly captivating showman during his 11-year stint with Sabbath, the chunky Osbourne is nevertheless riding the crest of a hit solo album, "Blizzard of Ozz." While his current sound is far more polished that the high-density distortion favored by the Sabbath of yore, the main reason for his recent success is that he's changed so little. In the genre, streamlining just means cutting the drummer's 10-minute solo in half. Backed by a trio of young hotshots - including ex-LosAngeles metal mongers Quiet Riot guitarist Randy Rhoads, whose playing is strictly state-of-the-cliché - Osbourne's set consisted of a half-dozen tracks from the new LP, a couple of unreleased songs and three key numbers from the Sabbath catalogue. In sharp contrast to the doom-laden lyrics and his demonic image, Osbourne tells the audience he loves them at metronomically precise intervals and still flashes more peace signs than Richard Nixon in his heyday. Opening act Motorhead's cool reception typified the reactionary nature of today's hard rock fans. Led by beefy biker-type bassist Lemmy, the British power trio's amphetamine-paced, sheetmetal guitar clanging and gruff vocals were perceived as being too close to punk rock for this particular audience, which as evidenced by the appeal of such toothless dinosaurs as Osbourne, is rapidly becoming as loyal and as regimented in its tastes as that of country music.

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July 4, 1981

Coliseum, Oakland, California

The fireworks may have gone off Saturday at the year's first Day on the Green at the Oakland Stadium, but the concert was a dud. Only 38,000 fans - less than two-thirds capacity - attended, and many left even before headliner Heart took the stage following an hour-long intermission. After a strong opening, Heart then bogged down in a lengthy middle section devoted to dreamy, folk-oriented material, as the crowd, primed to rock, began to stream the exits. Seven hours of hot sun and headbanger rock left the audience tired and restless by the time the afternoon's stars arrived on the scene. By then, the sky had grown overcast and a cool breeze whipped around the cavernous stadium. Acts performed from a hole in the stage front, flanked by paintings of forest, birds and crashing waves that covered the massive sound system. From the sparsely populated third deck, musicians appeared to be less than an inch tall. During the performances, the almost entirely teenage audience sat listlessly in their seats, offering only cursory applause at the close of individual numbers, although enthusiastically demanding the regulation encores. But, ear splitting music is only a small part of these annual summer time events. Rock bands just provide a central focus for the convocation. What these shows are really about is a day outside the purview of adult authority figures for the high schoolers. A Day on the Green has more in common with a day at the beach than with other rock concerts. Morning arrivals caught local rockers 415, Loverboy and Ozzy Osbourne, former lead vocalist of Black Sabbath, who reportedly drew quite a response from the heavy metal-minded crowd. Guitarist Pat Travers drilled the house with machine gun, staccato riffs, played with such velocity, it was difficult to separate the reverberations from the actual notes he played. Blue Oyster Cult, which appears tomorrow at the Old Waldorf under the pseudonym Soft White Underbelly, mixed considerable recent material of lesser interest with the fire-breathing rock band's standards such as "Cities in Flame" and "Hot Rails to Hell." Guitarist Buck Dharma filled the sound with thrashing, driving solos, but the band's set never settled into a consistent charge. Heart brought the Tower of Power horn section along to liven things up, but by the time the brass joined the band, it was too little, too late, and the audience continued its exodus unabated toward the parking lots.

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July 13, 1981

Paramount Theatre, Seattle, Washington

Last night's Paramount Northwest concert by Ozzy Osbourne and Motorhead shows there is no end to the musical mayhem rock musicians can create. Not satisfied with his role as lead singer for the heavy metal band Black Sabbath, Osbourne called it quits and embarked on a solo career that he promised would bring about widespread hearing losses and, at least, in the figurative sense, devastation. Osbourne is storming the rock music scene with as much gusto as the whip-wielding Indiana Jones in his search for the lost Ark. So like a fire engine with all it horns and sirens stuck, Osbourne and his band trounced their newfound fans last night and blew them away like soldiers who got too close to an atom bomb test. Hard rockers like Ted Nugent had better look out. Osbourne, the maniac, is trying to pass them on the shoulder with little or no room to spare. Osbourne's attraction, like that of other popular hard rockers, is his ability to deliver the goods in quantity and at painful volume levels. This he did, sans shirt, for more than an hour last night. Beneath all the noise and rubble, however, lies some decent rock 'n' roll in need of a permanent audience. Even though some of his selections sounded like over amplified cuts from the soundtrack of "The Exorcist," others showed promise as future hits. "Revelation (Mother Earth)" is an interesting dirge for a dying planet. "I Don't Know" and "Crazy Train" are good rockers. All three songs are from Osbourne's debut album "Blizzard of Ozz." Osbourne's band is guitarist Randy Rhoads, bassist Bob Daisley and drummer Lee Kerslake. Kerslake, formerly with Uriah Heep, also plays tubular bells and timpani drums. Rhoads and Kerslake showed off their special talents during solo performances last night.

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July 26, 1981

Jock Harty Arena, Kingston, Ontario - Canada

For musicians who are known as the Blizzard of Ozz, Ozzy Osbourne and company sure don't live up to their name. With the Jock Harty Arena as hot and sweaty as a Swedish sauna Sunday night, the band wasn't about to give their 1,800 faithful any relief. When asked if the arena doors could be opened to cool things off a little, the band reportedly refused, saying they needed to be hot to play hot music. The strategy worked perfectly even if the temperature seemed to go up 10 degrees by the end of the concert. Ozzy and his friends put on a blistering display of power rock that pleased even the most devout heavy metal fans in the crowd. Their set was only 65 minutes long but it was so intense that most went away happy, even though the music wasn't loud enough to give the usual 15 minutes of ringing in your ears, which is almost de rigeur at a headbanger concert. One major disappointment was the distinct lack of flamboyance on the part of Ozzy himself. A press release about Ozzy by his record company JET, boasts, "during the 11 years with Black Sabbath, Ozzy's reputation as a wild man and a hell-raiser reached legendary proportions." He's none of those on stage. He wore a shirt heavily fringed with white strips for his entrance, but that only lasted for one song, Ozzy preferring to go bare-chested the rest of the way, and that only served to reveal a slight paunch and a couple of tattoos. Ozzy always sang from the same mike on a stand and never went galloping about the stage as in the wont of many lead singers. The only theatrical things he could be said to have done were raising his hands in the air and clapping. Ozzy is a good singer but by no means a manic one. Every song was sung and not screeched. His singing was probably the least volatile element of the stage show although just managing to stay as loud as the three other musicians was laudatory. To me the heroes of the show were not Ozzy but rather his band and the lighting crew. Randy Rhoads seemed to be at war with his guitar so often did he make it screech in anger. His solos were occasionally long but always interesting. During one he seemed to move from a kind of heavy metal bolero dance to the sound of an onrushing train. Although Ozzy only formed his band last September, already there have been two changes made but both look like they've been done for the better. Bassist Rudy Sarzo slithers around the stage like a giant snake. And drummer Tommy Aldridge is not only one of the more powerful drummers around but also one of the more imaginative. In the middle of his 10 minute solo Aldridge even abandoned his drum sticks to attack his set of drums bare-handed like a big set of bongo drums. The use of lighting, especially from those lights hung at the back of the stage was so effective that one forgot that missing were the usual flashpots (another heavy metal staple.) But thin shafts of light banded together in three or four colors kind of made you feel like you were watching the opening credits of Superman again. Ozzy pretty well stuck to material from his Blizzard of Ozz album, sprinkled with a few tunes from his upcoming album, Diary of a Madman, and two old Black Sabbath numbers at the very end of the show. There was not a lot of variety here but much more so than at any other metal concert I've seen. Ozzy moved easily from such numbers as the English vaudeville style of "Mr. Crowley" to the hard-driving "I don't Know." The masterpiece of the night however, was "Revelation," which started slowly and built to a passionate crescendo of sound.

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August 1, 1981

Port Vale FC (Vale Park), Stoke on Trent, Staffordshire

Motorhead, Ozzy Osbourne Band, Triumph, Mahogany Rush, Riot, Vardis

Port Vale FC

"When I count to three I want everyone to shout YEAH! One, two, three…" YEAH! "I said when I count to three I want everyone to shout YEAH! One, two, three…" YEEEAAAHHH! "Come on, grab yer bollocks and give it the Ozzy treatment! One, two, three…" YEEEAAAHHH! Festivals, especially HM ones, seem to have a language all their own. With British bands it tends to reflect a concern for the audience's health, hence the almost obligatory "AREYERALLRIGHT?", whilst Americans, intent on providing the proverbial good time, prefer to use words like "party" (pronounced "PAWTY!") to make their point. At Port Vale both approaches were on view but it was Ozzy's typically subtle cajoling that most profoundly stirred a rank and file assembly judged by one local hack as 40,000 strong.

>>> And so to Ozzy and his band, late replacements for Sabbath who pulled out due to either "recording commitment" or a fear of Motorhead, depending on whose story you believe. Personally I'm prepared to give the Sabs the benefit of the doubt, particularly as their absence made way for a new slimline Ozz to deliver the most enjoyable set of the day. As usual he revelled in the atmosphere shouting "WE LOVE YOU ALL" (several times) and stalking the stage with demented glee whilst new boys Rudi Sarzo (bass) and Tommy Aldridge (drums) proved an aggressive combination and guitarist Randy Rhoads stole axe-hero of the day with eminent ease. Of the newer material 'Crazy Train' and 'Suicide Solution' were outstanding but it was the Sabbath oldies that predictably gleaned the best response. 'Iron Man' and 'Children of the Grave' had every hand clenched and in the air whilst the encore, a rejuvenated 'Paranoid', proved an ideal neck-loosener for the main event.

>>> Riot and Ozzy certainly made a few friends on the day and Motorhead confirmed their popularity in style but overall it was probably Port Vale FC who gained most from events, hosting their biggest crowd of the season and making a handsome £25,000 profit to boot. Yeah!

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August 9, 1981

Cape Cod Coliseum, South Yarmouth, MA

Ozzy Osbourne's Blizzard of Ozz - in concert with Def Leppard at Cape Cod Coliseum, Sunday. I think I've got it. Heavy Metal, in its classic form, is the inverse of blues. With the blues, pain and loss are liberated, given emotional release. With classic heavy metal, pain and loss are flogged and amplified. And, then, most importantly, nullified. A simple equation: How can you care when you can't think? Ozzy Osbourne, ex-lead yowler for Black Sabbath, brought his new juggernaut, Blizzard of Ozz, to the Cape Cod Coliseum Sunday. Along with a lot of mescaline dealt in the parking lot outside and the deafening cement-mixer sound dealt inside, there was a fair bit of irony dealt throughout the evening. Ozzy's intent, naturally enough, is ultimate macho aggression, but with a charted musical course that predominantly starts, develops (?) and ends at the same place, we're talking about controlled aggression with highs and lows not unlike the ones your washing machine runs through during its cycles. Still, giving credit where it's due, Ozzy might be smarter than he seems to let on. Example One: He uses the word "polemically" in a song. Example Two: He opened the show with "I don't Know," a superbly ironic headknocker that ends with the line, "It's up to you," which is about the same do-it-yourself message progressive rocker Peter Gabriel put across a while back. But, of course, the volume and sledgehammer drive of the music overwhelms everything, making the impact anything but taking control for yourself. Neat touch. The true heavy metal attitude toward taking action was later expressed in Ozzy's encore, the old Sabs tune "Iron Man." "Nobody wants him," Ozzy yowls, "He just stares at the wall." Right to the point: Predicament and solution all in one line. Despite an (erroneous) image as some satanic worshipper, Oz looks more like an out of work geezer who's spent a few years drinking beer. Mostly, Oz waves the peace sign, grins like the village idiot and hunches over, clapping his hands like one of those toy monkeys. And, if you sift through the lyrics (on the album inner sleeve, forget 'em in concert) you'll find that, despite a pleasant new number played at Cape Cod called "Die High Again," Oz can be a bit of a fun-loving humanist. (From "Steal Away - "Love will flow like wine tonight"; from "Revelation" - Mother, please show the children / before it's too late / To fight each other, there's no-one winning / We must fight all the hate.") Okay, let's get to the big question. Is Blizzard of Ozz better than Black Sabbath? Are day-old leftover burgers better than week-old leftover burgers? Is a 1980 calendar more useful than a 1975 calendar? Would you rather be run over by a train or a steamroller? Fact is, despite certain (dare I say) growth exhibited on the Blizzard of Ozz LP, in concert, Oz proves that once an Oz, always an Oz: Rock 'n' Roll is a bludgeoning instrument. Sunday's saving grace, thought, was Randy Rhoads, who is by no means a good guitarist, but is also not Black Sabbath's Tony Iommi, whose guitar-as-an-aural-torture-device drives laboratory mice to suicide.

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August 29, 1981

Morris Civic Auditorium, South Bend, IN

Ozzy Osbourne's performance Saturday night at Morris Civic Auditorium could be described perfectly in one word. However, Tribune policy and common decency prevent publication of the word. First off, Osbourne's "Blizzard of Oz" album is excellent. His performance, however, came nowhere close to that high standard and surely left a good portion of the capacity audience disappointed. Osbourne opened with his hit single "I don't Know." Halfway through the song Osbourne walked away from centerstage, not finishing the verse and omitting another. The band completed the song as an instrumental. Obviously struggling, Osbourne's vocals seemed labored. The former Black Sabbath lead vocalist sounded hoarse at times. Ozzy didn't spend much time on stage. The band played for 56 minutes, with Ozzy absent during lengthy drum and guitar solos. Probably most disappointing was the fact that Ozzy didn't play "Crazy Train," the tune that was the primary reason "The Blizzard of Ozz" cracked the top 20 albums chart. "Crazy Train," is an excellent power-rock tune that was played in commercials on local radio stations promoting the concert, attracting fans. Osbourne's performance did have its high points. The band performed "Believer" from the recently released "Diary of a Madman" album. And the group did play "Mr. Crowley," "Revelation (Mother Earth)" and "Steal Away (The Night)" off "Blizzard of Ozz." Black Sabbath songs included "Iron Man" and "Paranoid." Drummer Tommy Aldridge, formerly with Black Oak Arkansas and the Pat Travers Band, put on an outstanding drum display. However, Aldridge's limelight was limited to the four-minute solo and a couple of songs. Most of the time his efforts are drowned out. Guitarist Randy Rhoads is superb and gives the band its excellent sound. Perhaps the concert should have been instrumental the entire night. Osbourne could have been under the weather. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that his "Blizzard" was indeed a snow job. Fans spending $9.50 a ticket, plus money on gas, food and party incidentals are making a hefty investment in an evening's entertainment. They deserve better then what Ozzy delivered. Where're Dorothy and Toto when you need them? Obviously there's another candidate to follow the yellow brick road. Something lacked from the concert - heart, courage or intelligence. Take your pick. Def Leppard opened for Ozzy and gave a fine performance. Although the band didn't play its popular "When the Walls come Tumbling down," its segment was well received. Had Def Leppard not played 47 minutes, Saturday's concert could have been one of the briefest on record.

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