At 76, Ozzy Osbourne—the “Prince of Darkness”—took his final bow on July 22, 2025, leaving the world in shock. For Tony Iommi, his bandmate and lifelong friend since 1968, the news was surreal. Speaking with ITV News on July 23, Iommi recalled receiving a text from Ozzy just the day before. “It was a shock for us… it just seemed unreal, surreal,” he said, admitting the reality took time to sink in.
A Final Showdown with Fate
At Black Sabbath’s farewell concert in Birmingham, Ozzy was already visibly frail. Yet, Iommi believes Ozzy mustered every ounce of his will to play that final night. “He held out to do that show… just after that, he’s done it and said goodbye to the fans. And that was the end of it, really,” Iommi shared He and fellow bandmate Geezer Butler are convinced Ozzy knew this would be his goodbye.
Bonds Beyond the Stage
The connection between Iommi and Osbourne goes back even further—into the studio chaos and campfire-level humor of early Black Sabbath:
During recording of Master of Reality in the early ’70s, Ozzy once joined a guitar session to debut a giant joint. Tony’s uncontrollable coughing was so legendary it became the intro to “Sweet Leaf”
In the eerie halls of Clearwell Castle, the band pulled pranks on each other. Ozzy once joked they were “lords of chickenshit,” fearing a suit of armour might stab them in their sleep.
While tracking Master of Reality, Ozzy had to belt out “rocket engines burning fuel so fast…” at breakneck speed—an experience that made Tony laugh at how hard Ozzy worked to hit the notes Recalling Ozzy’s unwavering passion, Iommi said it best: “He must have had something in his head that said, ‘Well, this is gonna be it.’ Whether he thought he was gonna die or what, I don’t know—but he was determined to do it. And fair dues, he’d done it.”
A Farewell Laced with Humor and Heart
Tony Iommi’s personal account adds depth to a larger-than-life legacy. It paints a portrait of Ozzy not just as a legendary frontman, but as a brother, a fellow prankster, a creative force who mixed humor and hard riffs even in the darkest times. Their shared stories—like that cough-tape intro or ghostly castle antics—offer a glimpse into the bond beyond fame.
In the end, Ozzy Osbourne didn’t die onstage—he said goodbye. And for Tony Iommi, that final act was not just a concert, but a testament to a life lived loud, soulful, and true to the metal roots etched in Birmingham. Their friendship, forever immortalized in riffs, laughter, and loyalty, reminds us that legends leave behind more than music—they leave memories that live on.
