Ozzy Osbourne: Rediscovering the Lighter Side of the Prince of Darkness

Hearing Ozzy Again, For the First Time

Kevin McElroy
Editor, Tune Up Magazine

Since his passing, I’ve been making time to revisit Ozzy’s albums, especially some of the later ones I missed the first time around (Black Rain for example, which holds up surprisingly well). Long car rides have been my excuse. One Sunday night driving home from the Jersey Shore, I had Bark at the Moon on. When So Tired came around, I laughed to myself — that’s a song I’ve been guilty of using to needle my wife. Whenever she tells me she’s tired of my nonsense, I’ll throw it on and let Ozzy mock her for me. Not exactly nice, but all fair in love and war. And honestly? It’s fun.

Of course, Ozzy had to be Ozzy when it comes to the videos: Watch “So Tired”

But that night, I wasn’t just joking around. I was hearing it again — really hearing it, the way a dark ride can help you lock in. And it hit me: Ozzy’s ballads might be one of the most overlooked treasures in his whole catalog. Not “good for a metal guy” — genuinely great.

Sure, Bob Daisley and others often wrote the lyrics. But they wrote them for Ozzy, knowing exactly how he’d deliver them. And Ozzy wasn’t the kind of singer who could just go through the motions. He had to feel what he was saying, comprehend the sentiment, and find a personal attachment to the words. His strength was in the melodies — those winding, soulful lines that sneak past your defenses and hook the heart. You can’t fake that.

For all the talk about bats, TV antics, and “Prince of Darkness” branding, Ozzy’s ballads reveal the other side: vulnerable, innocent, and absolutely believable.

I have a genuine love affair with my audience.
When I’m on stage they’re not privileged to see me.
It’s a privilege for me to see them.
— Ozzy Osbourne (1948–2025)

Watch Goodbye To Romance (1982)

Proper Ballads

The ones that truly sit in the ballad column — slow, tender, intimate.

• Changes (Sabbath – Vol. 4, 1972) – Pure vulnerability. No riffs, just Ozzy and piano, sounding broken.
• Solitude (Sabbath – Master of Reality, 1971) – Soft, aching, almost whispered. You might not even believe it’s him singing.
• She’s Gone (Sabbath – Technical Ecstasy, 1976) – Orchestral heartbreak, sincere and unadorned.
• Goodbye to Romance (Blizzard of Ozz, 1980) – Melancholic and hopeful all at once. I remember girls in my circle swooning over it when it first came out.
• Tonight (Diary of a Madman, 1981) – A lullaby more than a lament. Quiet comfort from the Oz man.
• So Tired (Bark at the Moon, 1983) – Could be dismissed as hokey, but listen close: it’s exhaustion and surrender made music.
• Close My Eyes Forever (with Lita Ford, 1988) – Technically Lita Ford’s song, not Ozzy’s, but it ended up being his highest-charting single in the U.S. (#8 on the Billboard Hot 100). For me, it never really worked as a “couple’s song” — I don’t buy into the duet dynamic. But Ozzy’s voice on it is still fragile, tender, and unmistakably him. It’s an oddball in the catalog, but proof that even when he’s out of his element, he brings that same innocence to the mic.
• Mama, I’m Coming Home (No More Tears, 1991) – His theme song. Family, forgiveness, love — all of it true. Grown men were still welling up during the Back to the Beginning performance, which was all real.
• Old L.A. Tonight (Ozzmosis, 1995) – Cinematic, wistful, a curtain call in slow motion.
• Dreamer (Down to Earth, 2001) – His Lennon homage. A little contrived maybe, but no cynicism — he believes every word.
• Ordinary Man (Ordinary Man, 2020) – Duet with Elton John, reflective and final. The timing made it gut-punching.

Watch Ozzy’s last live perfomance of “Mama, I’m Coming Home”

Non-Traditional Ballads (But Full of the Same Heart)

I know these aren’t “ballads” in the traditional pop sense — but they carry the same vulnerability, sincerity, and emotional weight.

• Planet Caravan (Sabbath – Paranoid, 1970) – A cosmic love song, Ozzy’s voice drifting like starlight. Introspective, almost meditative.
• Junior’s Eyes (Sabbath – Never Say Die!, 1978) – Written about his father’s death; weary and personal.
• You Can’t Kill Rock and Roll (Diary of a Madman, 1981) – Slow and resolute, sung with conviction instead of bravado.
• Killer of Giants (The Ultimate Sin, 1986) – His anti-war ballad, heartfelt and pleading.
• Woman (John Lennon cover, 2001/2005) – Rough around the edges, but sung with pure reverence. In some ways, perfectly suited to him lyrically — maybe too perfectly, because you can imagine how much deeper it could’ve gone.
• Under the Graveyard (Ordinary Man, 2019) – Autobiographical and raw. Ozzy confronting mortality with zero filter.

What Hit Me That Night

Driving home that night, what hit me was just how damn good Ozzy really was at singing them, how authentic, and how little credit he gets for that side of his talent.

For all the devil-horn branding, the bats, and the antics, Ozzy Osbourne might just be one of rock’s most honest ballad singers. He had to believe it to sing it. And when you line these songs up, you realize — the innocence, the vulnerability, the sincerity — it was always real.