Pat Boone Says He'll Always Cherish the ‘Warm Friendliness' of His Old Neighbor Ozzy Osbourne
'I am stunned. I can't believe that my former next-door neighbor and good friend has passed suddenly,' Boone wrote on Facebook following the news of Osbourne's death yesterday at the age of 76.
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Osbourne and his family spent several years living next to Boone in Beverly Hills, striking up an unlikely friendship. Later, Boone's jazzy big band cover of the Ozzy classic 'Crazy Train' served as the theme song for the hit reality series, The Osbournes. (Yes, Boone recorded a whole album of metal covers, 1997's In a Metal Mood: No More Mr. Nice Guy.)
'When he and Sharon and the kids lived next-door to me for a couple of years, we weren't rock stars comparing careers – we were just friends and neighbors getting along just fine,' Boone wrote, adding: 'Others may celebrate his incredible rocking style and hard rock music — but I'll always remember his warm friendliness as my next-door neighbor. God bless you, Ozzy.'
In a previous interview with the Television Academy, Boone spoke more about getting to know Osbourne after they became neighbors. For instance, Boone recalled how Osbourne would tell him about being in Alcoholics Anonymous and how he would still say 'the odd prayer,' to which Boone, an avowed Christian, replied: 'Well it's not odd to me, Ozzy!'
Boone also said that everyone tended to watch their language around him, but not Osbourne. And not only was Boone cheered to his version of 'Crazy Train' on The Osbournes, he always appreciated when Ozzy would rave about how Boone was 'the best bleep-bleep-bleep neighbor we ever had!'
Boone continued with a laugh: 'DJs would ask me about that and I'd say, 'Yeah, because we were the only neighbors that never called the police!' But we got along great. I really liked him.'
Many of Osbourne's peers and admirers have shared tributes in the days since his death, including Alice Cooper, Metallica, and Osbourne's Black Sabbath bandmates. Alongside Boone, one of the more unexpected tributes came from the official account of the Alamo memorial, which Osbourne infamously urinated on in 1982 (an act for which he later apologized).
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Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
Mama, Ozzy Osbourne is coming home
Imagining rock 'n' roll without Ozzy Osbourne is impossible. He wasn't one of the music's originators—born in Birmingham, England, in 1948, he was too young for that—but as the lead singer of Black Sabbath, he created the sound, sensibility, and iconography that became known as heavy metal, a feat that earned him the nickname The Prince Of Darkness. Ozzy's reign as the king of heavy metal lasted well over half a century, ending only earlier this month when he played Back To The Beginning, a farewell extravaganza in his hometown, surrounded by disciples that illustrated his deep, lasting influence. Osbourne presided over a bill that gave equal representation to almost every strain of metal that Black Sabbath begat, its diversity illustrating how the band didn't just make a scene: They forged a subculture. Tellingly, apart from a reunited Black Sabbath, only two performers at Back To The Beginning were of Osbourne's generation: Aerosmith's Steven Tyler and Sammy Hagar, who once fronted Van Halen, the band that blew a haggard Sabbath off the stage in the late 1970s. From Metallica and Guns N' Roses through Tool and Rage Against The Machine's Tom Morello to Gojira and Rival Sons, everybody on the bill came of age during an era where Ozzy was a star in his own right, a madman known for his excesses as much as his music. Time has softened the memories of Osbourne's '80s debauchery, a process assisted by the singer starring alongside his family in The Osbournes, the pioneering reality TV program that reconfigured Ozzy as a beleaguered sitcom dad. The show highlighted Ozzy's frailty and foibles, along with a sense of humor that split the difference between accidental and purposeful. The genius of The Osbournes is how it tapped into a central truth about Ozzy Osbourne: Beneath the tattoos and pentagrams lay something human, even lovable. The notion that Ozzy Osbourne could be lovable was utterly alien when The Osbournes premiered in 2002, which is a testament to the power of his music. Like all great rock stars, Osbourne's art was inextricable from his persona. When Black Sabbath arose from the primordial heavy rock underground in the early 1970s, Ozzy sang with a piercing wail that suggested he was haunted by something intangible and unknown. He harnessed that gothic horror as a solo artist, lending a steely edge to his metallic rock that seemed alternately menacing and comical. Once he separated from Sabbath, the dangerous side subsumed Osbourne to the point that it was difficult to discern truth from fiction. During the 1980s, urban legends of Ozzy biting the heads off bats and doves rivalled the popularity of 'Crazy Train' and 'Mr. Crowley,' songs whose very titles teased an immersion in insanity and the occult. The idea of Ozzy Osbourne became greater than the music itself: Throughout the 1980s, he was the flashpoint for rock decadence, as much a guiding light as a cautionary tale. It also helped that Osbourne had a knack for picking guitarists, discovering legions of shredders that gave shape to metal in the 1980s. Chief among these was Randy Rhoads, the classically trained guitarist who died in 1982, just after he helped Osbourne make Blizzard Of Ozz and Diary Of A Madman, the albums that established Ozzy as a force outside of Black Sabbath. Those two records were so strong, they sustained Osbourne through a decade plagued by indulgence that slowly crept into the confines of the studio. They, alongside the first four albums by Black Sabbath, are at the core of Ozzy Osbourne's musical legacy, the albums that shaped the sound of heavy metal. Subsequent generations of rockers discovered new worlds lying within Ozzy's music, taking metal in places Osbourne never cared to explore. The definition of a rock 'n' roll lifer—he died less than three weeks after playing his final concert—he chose perseverance over innovation, sticking to the blend of high-octane rockers and power ballads he sketched out at the beginning of his solo career. Some hits came his way: In 1991, he even broke into the Billboard Top 40 with 'Mama, I'm Coming Home,' a reflective number whose vocal harmonies tipped a hat to his beloved Beatles. Most of the time, he played to the devoted, an audience thrilled at the simple fact that he survived the madness. 'Mama, I'm Coming Home' was part of Osbourne's solo set list at Back To The Beginning, the only song he played that dated past 1981. Thematically, it fits: Even in 1991, when Osbourne was just barely into his forties, it played like a summation. In the context of Back To The Beginning, its inclusion couldn't help but seem like a deliberate goodbye, especially with Osbourne confined to a throne due to health issues; the end seemed imminent, if maybe not quite as close as it turned out to be. Back To The Beginning didn't end there, though. Osbourne stormed through 'Crazy Train' before joining the rest of the original lineup of Black Sabbath for four songs, opening with the pummeling 'War Pigs' before closing strong with 'Iron Man' and 'Paranoid,' a pair of songs that seem impervious to death. All of Black Sabbath, all on the far side of 70, summoned their dark spirit, not so much sounding young as defiant. This was especially true of Ozzy, who still commanded attention even as he sat on his throne. The visual of the throne was a suitable final spectacle, playing into the horror movie element of Black Sabbath, emphasizing how Ozzy could treat his role as a rock singer as a bit of a carnival barker. Perhaps it didn't carry an element of danger, but it was savvy showmanship that stayed true to the Osbourne that became a beloved cultural figure. There was no more metal way to say farewell. More from A.V. Club Adam Sandler's at least shooting par with Happy Gilmore 2 E! News gets the axe again Resident Alien canceled after four seasons Solve the daily Crossword
Indianapolis Star
10 hours ago
- Indianapolis Star
Ozzy didn't corrupt America's youth. He exposed the hypocrisy of their elders.
Ozzy Osbourne is dead, and some Christians may believe that the devil ushered him straight to the gates of hell. Few pop culture icons were as important, or as controversial, as Osbourne. The British-born rocker became the avatar of American culture wars more than a half-century ago by attempting to showcase the hypocrisy of modern religion. Osbourne launched his career in the late 1960s. Sensitive to cultural currents, he recognized what was happening not just in music, but also in religion and politics. He used it to build on the image of rock as subversive and countercultural. From the start, Osbourne understood how to bring attention to his art. Calling his band Black Sabbath sent a clear message. He aimed to subvert, not honor, Christianity. He integrated crosses, demonic imagery and symbols of the devil such as bats into his performances to highlight what he saw as the absurdity of organized religion. Osbourne sang lyrics in his first album about a 'figure in black' that directed him, and in another song, he took on the persona of Satan himself: 'My name is Lucifer, please take my hand.' In Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" album, released at the height of the Vietnam War, he sang 'War Pigs,' a song in which Satan laughed and spread his wings as political and military elites led the Western world to the doorstep of the apocalypse. Opinion: How faith becomes a weapon: 'If I can't understand it, it's not Christian' Such allusions to the demonic continued in album after album. Osbourne's career developed parallel to a new understanding of Satan. In the post-World War II era, the devil assumed a more prominent role in American life. Anton LaVey's founding of the Church of Satan in 1966 celebrated Satan as a symbol of rebellion, individualism and secular liberation. In other words, Satan was the opposite of everything anxious Cold War parents wanted to instill in their kids. Artists drew on this revamped Satan in their work. Films like "The Exorcist" (1973) and "The Omen" (1976) brought Satan − and fears of Satan's ability to inhabit human bodies − into the imaginations of millions of people. Osbourne made those themes central to his music. In the 1980s, while Osbourne was still releasing albums, fears of satanic ritual abuse swept across the United States. Christian conservatives fretted that Dungeons & Dragons, Ouija boards and horror films were gateways to demonic influence. High-profile cases like the McMartin preschool trial and the publication of memoirs about escaping satanic ritual abuse fueled widespread panic. Law enforcement agencies conducted seminars on occult crime, therapists uncovered repressed memories of ritual abuse and talk shows amplified claims of underground satanic cults. The panic revealed deep anxieties about child safety, cultural change and the perceived decline of Christian values in American society. Perhaps, parents and religious leaders wondered, was Osbourne driving kids into satanism? Perhaps his music was brainwashing the nation's youth? Conservative Christians − including evangelicals, Catholics and Latter-day Saints − believe in a cosmic battle between angels and demons that directly influences human affairs. They believe that unseen spiritual battles determine real-world outcomes, particularly in culture, politics and morality. Opinion: Kan-Kan Cinema is elevating Indy's cinema culture Many of them also believed they had to protect children from music like Osbourne's. This framework encouraged social conservatives to interpret issues like abortion, LGBTQ+ rights and the de-Christianizing of culture as evidence of demonic influence, necessitating counteraction through prayer, activism and political engagement. Osbourne and the genre of hard rock that he helped to promote contributed to their fears. In their minds, Osbourne was encouraging youth to rebel. And he was. Osbourne's fans understood what the rock star was doing. They loved it. The more angry Osbourne could make their parents, and the more he could rile up moral crusaders, the better. And he agreed. Playing with the devil became a hallmark of his long career. Briggs: Born into Jim Crow, she lived to witness DEI debates From witch hunts in Salem to conspiracy theories driving QAnon, Americans have used Satan to facilitate a politics of fear. They have used him to justify persecution, fuel moral panics, shape political and cultural battles, and assess global crises and war. But there has always been another side to Satan, the one Osbourne captured. His devil wasn't the horned villain of Christian nightmares but a trickster, a rebel, a symbol of freedom from sanctimony. In Osbourne's hands, Satan gave a theatrical middle finger to hypocrisy and lifted up a mirror to a society obsessed with sin, and he laughed. His life reminds us that sometimes, dancing with the devil is really just refusing to march in lockstep with the saints.
Newsweek
10 hours ago
- Newsweek
Christian MAGA Singer Vows To Continue Despite Canada Protests
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. Sean Feucht, a prominent American Christian worship leader and vocal supporter of the MAGA movement, says he will press on with his tour of Canada, despite a wave of public protests, security concerns, and event cancellations in multiple cities. Newsweek contacted Feucht for comment via email on Sunday. Why It Matters Feucht's tour has become a flash point in Canada's ongoing debate over freedom of expression, public safety, and the role of religious and political ideologies in public spaces. As communities respond to his messaging—often framed around conservative Christian values and American right-wing politics—the backlash highlights tensions between freedom of speech and protecting marginalized groups from perceived harm. Despite the setbacks, Feucht remains determined to complete his tour. He is continuing to organize events at alternative venues and actively posting about it on social media. On Saturday, Feucht posted on his Facebook and Instagram accounts: "We've been canceled, banned, protested and smoke-bombed in Canada, but the MOVE OF GOD ONLY GROWS STRONGER! "The greater the resistance, the greater the breakthrough! See you today Ottawa and tomorrow Toronto!" Sean Feucht is seen at Wesley Bolin Memorial Plaza outside the Arizona State Capitol in Phoenix, Arizona, on October 19, 2024. Sean Feucht is seen at Wesley Bolin Memorial Plaza outside the Arizona State Capitol in Phoenix, Arizona, on October 19, 2024. Rebecca Noble/AFP/Getty Images What To Know As reported by Newsweek, Feucht is a pro-Trump American Christian singer-songwriter who unsuccessfully ran as a Republican candidate in California's 3rd congressional district in 2020. Feucht has previously been criticized over remarks he has made about the LGBTQ+ community and for his pro-life stance. He first rose to prominence with his "Let Us Worship" tour in the latter half of 2020, which protested COVID-19 lockdowns. In April of 2022, he helped to lead a protest against The Walt Disney Company for their opposition to anti-LGBTQ legislation. In early 2023, he announced a "Kingdom to the Capitol" tour co-sponsored by Turning Point USA, the nonprofit that advocates for conservative politics at high schools and university campuses. Several Canadian cities, including Halifax, Quebec City, Charlottetown, and Moncton, have canceled Feucht's scheduled events in recent days. Officials cited public safety concerns, protest activity and logistical complications. In Halifax, Parks Canada revoked a permit for a concert at the York Redoubt historic site after consulting with police and local residents. The event was moved to Shubenacadie, about an hour away, where hundreds of attendees gathered. Despite the relocations and cancellations, protests have continued to follow Feucht's appearances. In Montreal, demonstrators set off smoke bombs inside a venue, and at least one person was arrested. Critics of the tour, including advocacy groups and local officials, argue that Feucht's rhetoric is inflammatory and harmful to community cohesion. Some have also pointed to Feucht's political affiliations, which they believe are inconsistent with Canada's inclusive values. Feucht has accused Canadian authorities and media outlets of discriminating against his religious beliefs, claiming his events are being unfairly targeted for expressing traditional Christian values. He has maintained that his message is peaceful and spiritual in nature, not political. What People Are Saying Feucht posting on his X account on Saturday: "I've led worship and preached in Africa, the Middle East and all across the world in 2025. The most intense persecution was not in Iraq or Turkey - but CANADA! Didn't have that on my bingo card." The city of Vaughan, where Feucht was due to perform on Sunday, said in a statement, per CTV News: "The City of Vaughan has denied a Special Event Permit for a music event to be held at Dufferin District Park on July 27 on the basis of health and safety as well as community standards and well-being." What Happens Next City officials in other planned tour stops are assessing whether to grant permits, and national law enforcement agencies are monitoring developments closely. As protests persist, the debate over who gets access to public spaces—and under what terms—is likely to intensify in the days ahead.
