Diary of a Madman tour reviews

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Diary of a Madman tour reviews

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December 2, 1981
Royal Court, Liverpool, England


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Blizzard of Ozz - Liverpool
It started with an offensive series of obscene outrages, and has now built into a blood-chilling barrage of vile atrocities. I am of course referring to the inexhorable march of Ozzy Osbourne's Blizzard of Ozz, a vile terror gripping the unkempt sons of WOARGH - Britain in a mounting crescendo of fear and torment. Typically, thousands of beleathered urchins are attracted to the spectacle tonight - and lulled into a false sense of security by problematic openers Girl. A tough hard rock band in the catchy-but-ballsy tradition, Girl's success is still sabotaged by their old poncey image, despite sensibly binning all the make-up and Kiss-style wimphem of yore. The main problem is singer Phil Lewis's queer predilection for preening and posing, which despite the occasional crass shot at populist stage patter, place him firmly at the head of Rock's Handbag League: This so offends most right thinking chaps that the band's strengths are forgotten in the mad race to hurl abuse and missles at his person. Without a drastic rethink he'' more likely to end up on the subs' bench for the Larry Grayson Show than as the darling on the international jet-set. No such problems dog the Oz, who'd have snapped the heads off any opposition without question. The crowd are his and spell-bound from the first dramatic notes of tape-opener 'O Fortuna' which builds remorselessly till the curtains part like the very gates of Hell, to reveal the Crown Prince of Mayhem and Master Of Darkness manically blinding his subjects with an immense cross. Strange forces at work tonight however, and the band are hit by a temporary power failure and stomach bugs which make this by no means their best ever performance --but you try telling the crowd that. Even below par the boys a joy to behold and the new set is stronger and more vigorously impressive than ever. 'Over the Mountain' kicks things off with a Tommy Aldridge drum blitz and sweeps you along with its urgency and menace - the bluebirds over this mountains have been decapitated in advance. 'Flying High' maintains the momentum, a reckless celebration of unashamed hedonism and a good song to boot. Then 'Believer' slows the proceedings to an ominous plod with Randy supplying macabre guitar that groans and grimaces fit to match Oz's writhing and his evil sneer. 'Crazy Train' hots things up again in an orgy of mouth-frothing guitar and then nose-dives dramatically into that ultimate paean to perversity 'Mr. Crowley.' Off-stage organist and cult hero Lyndsey Bridgewater provides the big fat organ intro to this mock-horror holocaust which reduces the crowd to a sea of swaying v-signs as devils dance in the aisles. A brace of rockers up the tempo till the plaintive 'Mother Earth' and the sets piece de resistance 'Suicide Solution' which underlines that no matter how masterly Oz is, Blizzard of Ozz are more than just his backing band. They're a unit of supremely talented individuals, some of the mightiest musos in metal mayhem. Swoon to Tommy's taut but tensile drumming! Gasp at Rudy Sarzo's bold elastic bass and acrobatic playing! Then wonder at Randy Rhoads' fluent, ferocious fretboard frenzies - this man will soon be recognized as the HM guitarist. His playing is confident and versatile - as savage as a bull terrier, as pain-racked as a tormented soul or as tender as an angel's kiss. And his soaring spluttering guitar attack adds new dimensions to set-closer 'Paranoid.' The crowd go bonkers and the band are back for just one encore, 'Speed Away The Night,' a fine example of their ability to combine power with melody. Still the crowd holler for more but there's none to come - the band are disappointed, the crowd can't get enough. Imagine if they'd seen 'em on a good night. Hubbahubba. They're left to drift into the night, helpless slaves to the Oz's macabre spell of terror and chaos. The band stay backstage for God knows what unholy purpose - a combo as the very pinnacle of the HM tree. This has been a chilling and authentic account of an endangered generation and the inevitable progress of the Osbourne plague.

December 31, 1981
Sports Arena, Los Angles, California


(No headline or image available)
Act one Scene one: Outside, on the coldest night of the year, the wind is howling. But a noise more unearthly still emanates from the large round building where 13,000 people have spent the last two hours, trapped. The low moan of children out for blood. Music is being piped at them and strange round objects whizz past their ears now and then, but nothing seems to distract them. They just stare, endlessly, at the big black curtain. And suddenly the bright lights dim, their pale drugged faces lit only by flickering flames from matches. And as the curtains part, the soft mumble increases to a mighty yowl... The stage is a Gothic castle, two majestic arched windows with strange instruments of aural torture stashed within their bowels, flanking a tall, stepped pyramid. The stage is steeped in smoke, but sharp eyes can make out a monstrous human form rising from a throne on top of the pyramid. It appears to be clad in a low cut glitter sausage skin with a Stevie Nicks eggwhisk styled haircut on top. It rises from the throne and steps towards us. All around,flashbins explode like giant Roman candles, and the beast in the pink metallic leotard goes on the prowl, brandishing a giant cross. And a roar more deafening than that of several thousand young Americans deprived of an opening act on New Year's Eve and kept up way past their bedtime (the bells have tolled an hour before midnight when Ozzy takes the stage) roars from the speakers. The throne has slipped into a secret passageway to make room for a drum platform. Out of the smoke have appeared two delectable beings in a true rockstar mould - the hair, the poses, the low-slung belts, the dangerous pants, all fire and energy - and Ozzy Osbourne in the middle, arms open, fingers turned up in the familiar V's. The band plays 'Over the Mountain.' The crowd goes over the top. Already there's one of many tastefully short solos by local hero Randy Rhoads, imaginary solos by Ozzy, and strange ritualistic dances, stomping, clapping, shaking fists, falling to knees, punching, peace signing, leaping, bunny hopping, cavorting all round the stage before resting at the mike to tremble like an electric shock victim. Doomy keyboards (stashed away in an upper window) herald 'Mr. Crowley'. Horror-film chilling. More chilling still is the sight of 13,000 hands saluting on demand as Oz gets sent into paroxysms of epileptic delight. A midget comes on in a black hooded cape to fan Ozzy with a towel and perform other elf services. He's introduced, of course, as "Ronnie" with Ozzy chuckling at his joke. Tells us he's crazy, that it's okay for us all to be equally nuts, cue for a wild 'Crazy Train', a solid skill-grinder, with the band thrashing away as tight as Ozzy's metallic pink leotard. 'Steal Away The Night' is good, would be better if the arena sound wasn't so bloody awful. Ozzy's voice seems to be battling bravely, if occasionally unsuccessfully, against two obstacles, the sound system and a post-illness tendency to crack up. But he screams us into joining him in a chant along "Give me an O, give me a Z, what's that spell?" etc - plenty of audience participation tonight - before taking a teabreak during 'Suicide Solution', where Randy does a long solo (while being harassed by the hooded Dio-dwarf) and Tommy Aldridge takes over, frantically banging the skins with his fists. Then soothing keyboards, and Ozzy's back as a balladeer. 'Goodbye to Romance' is corny Mott the Hoople-ish stuff, with blown kisses and the usual melodrama giving way to the Sabsy 'I Don't Know', dull thump riffs and a slower hit in the middle to punch to. Ozzy stomps the floor like ants are fighting back. 'Flying High Again' is the last of the new material, a catchy song with spirited clapalongs. Then the familiar thump of 'Iron Man', music that grabs you by the slimy green thing around your neck, with a skull flashed upon the screen behind the drums. And 'Children of the Grave' is excellent, with Ozzy strolling round and bashing his hands together. If they ever make an Ozzy doll it's going to have to be one of those wind-up animal versions with a couple of cymbals to bang together. The picture on the screen has changed to one of the new look Mr. O, whose about to leave the stage, the midget having come on to announce it's midnight and another new year. A short wait and the trapdoor at the bottom opens. Out comes a giant paw clutching Ozzy in its palm. Bombs explode all around. He's lowered to the stage amid noise and smoke to just one encore, 'Paranoid', as the stage again becomes armless. And as he leaves in yet more explosions, he tosses two white doves into the audience to flap around the arena. The bird has flown. Not the longest ever (especially without a support act) and maybe not the best sound in the world. The was even, I gather, mechanical difficulties (wasn't the hand supposed to take him over the audience? Wasn't some odd machine meant to spit blood and guts at the front row? This was hardly the "grossest show in the world" we were promised) but this should get sorted out as the tour (just begun) goes along. But what we saw of the new theatrics worked well. Just what Ozzy needs - more melodrama than ever before. Not exactly subtle, but fun.

January 6, 1982
Community Center Arena, Tucson, Arizona


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"We want the Madman!" one rather bedraggled-looking young man shouted impatiently. Others, mainly teen-aged boys, milling about in T-shirts bearing a photograph of a crazed, blood-streaked maniac on the front and "Diary of a Madman" written in scary lettering on the back, shared his sentiments implicitly. As darkness fell on the Tucson Community Center Arena last night, lighters and matches produced flickers of light. The ritual was about to begin. The black curtains dropped away, revealing a Gothic set of arches and white-blue stone steps. Ozzy Osbourne, clutching a large, twinkling cross, sprang on the excited crowd of 4,000. Ozzy Osbourne, the man who reportedly bit off the head of a dove to make an impression on his record company, the man who touts suicide, lunacy, despair and creepy sex, was the man of the hour. In the battle to come out on top of the musical heap, Ozzy Osbourne, former lead singer of Black Sabbath, has opted for a gross and maniacal image and, unfortunately, he seems to be winning. Osbourne really has very little to offer musically. From the first heavy chords of "Over the Mountain" the sound turned into a quagmire of oppressive guitar riffs, heavy-handed drumming and off key, uncontrolled vocals - all way too loud, of course. What sets Osbourne apart from other heavy metal blitzers are his image and his lyrics. Perhaps the appeal of songs such as "Suicide Solution" and "Mr. Crowley" (a song about a poor soul tinkering with the devil) is similar to the weird fascination people feel about a guy standing on a window ledge about to jump. Whatever the reason, Osbourne does seem to attract the younger set, and even if the pudgy singer is putting on an act, his influence can't be denied. Osbourne's first album had at least a couple of tunes, such as "Revelation (Mother Earth)" and "Crazy Train," that pointed out real and current problems. But Osbourne seems more bent these days on proving how crazy he is, and in his show last night, on urging his audience to emulate his lunacy. Opening the show was Starfighter, a new group verging on heavy metal but relying more on backbeat than decibels. They, too, seem to have a fascination with depravity - sex and drugs being their major concerns - but they've also shown their ability to write more intelligent songs, such as "Eye's Tellin' You" and "Power Crazy," songs about the manipulation of the helpless by the powerful. Perhaps Starfighter will take the opposite tactic of Osbourne in the future, appealing to people's intelligence rather than their fascination with the sordid.

January 22, 1982
Mecca Auditorium, Milwaukee, Wisconsin


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Six thousand fans, most of them very young, crowded into the Auditorium Friday night and seemed to be seeking the same thrills that once were found at freak shows. Ozzy Osbourne, who has aged considerably since the early 70's, ran hither and thither like Rich Little impersonating Alice Cooper, loudly claiming to be "an animal," exhorting the audience to become as "crazy" as he appeared to be. His stage setup, which looked as thought it had been appropriated from a Vincent Price movie, deserved grudging admiration for its economy of design. Onto the stage were crowded battlements with gothic arches, flaming torches, a dais with a throne and walls of iron prison bars. Osbourne appeared on his throne in a burst of smoke at the show's beginning and descended the dais wielding a stainless steel cross. A roadie dressed in the black hood and studded wristbands of an executioner hovered behind the proceedings. Osbourne's new material, culled from both solo albums, "Blizzard of Ozz" and "Diary of a Madman," offers little that's new. The songs, typical of the doom rock genre, evoke haphazard images of insanity, "evil women", death and gothic creepiness. Though Osbourne now emphasizes poor mental hygiene over demonology, the sole musical improvement since his Black Sabbath days was his new drummer, who proved his expertise throughout the performance. As a sort of gesture to his old fans, Osbourne, whose new veneer of professionalism forced him to start the concert on time, did a brief medley of Sabbath dirges, including "Iron Man" and his only classic, "Paranoid," a disquieting song that reduces everything he's done since 1970 to redundancy. Starfighter, Britishers of the "leather and denim" school, showed promise during moments when they cut loose and slammed their riffs as only a heavy metal band can. Unfortunately, the slamming took a distant backseat to their weak, indistinct original songs.

January 24, 1982
Rosemont Horizon, Chicago, Illinois


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A while back, curious as to why a certain musician had appeared in public so little of late, I asked a friend of mine who knew the musician what the story was. "Because he's an alcoholic s---," my friend explained succinctly, proceeding to catalogue a series of episodes involving the musician's inability to get his life in good working order. As an afterthought, he tossed in some information concerning the fellow's distressingly Neanderthal ideas about women. "But he's a great musician," my friend added, in the interest of fairness. I agreed; I had, in fact, said so in a review some time earlier. Had I known what a jerk the guy could be, it would have made no difference. His on stage act and his off-stage one had nothing to do with each other. With some performers, the lines are a bit more blurred. Take Ozzy Osbourne, the former lead singer of Black Sabbath now gone solo. Anxious for attention, and apparently exceedingly drunk, good old Ozzy bit the head off of a live dove at a CBS Records marketing meeting not long ago. The episode was, as might be expected, widely reported, along with big talk by Ozzy about his supposedly outrageous "Diary of a Madman" tour now in progress. The tour brought him to the Rosemont Horizon Sunday night. Anyone who bites the head off of a bird is a jerk, pure and simple. Not outrageous, not wild, just stupid. Nevertheless, one figured, while Ozzy might be a creepy loser personally, his concerts promised to be gross spectacles. As it turned out, however, Ozzys performance Sunday night made AC/DC look like masters of stage craft and musical invention. Black Sabbath may have been generally reviled by anyone concerned about the finer points of music, but at least it had the distinction of being the heavy-metal downer band. Ozzy solo, on the other hand, adds up to just a general downer. Ozzy styles himself as a "madman," and that is somewhat puzzling given that he neither looks nor acts like one. "I thought he was supposed to be crazy or something," complained a former Black Sabbath fan, watching Ozzy walk around the stage in a pair of droopy jogging pants. "He doesn't look crazy, he looks enfeebled. Like they let him out of the home for the night." Indeed, instead of doing wild and crazy things himself, Ozzy spent most of his time exhorting the audience ("this is my kind of crowd, wild and reckless") to "go f------ crazy" and urging them to cheer louder. The only offbeat touch to the whole proceedings was that Ozzy had a midget in a black robe scurry out on stage from time to time and hand him a towel or a drink of water. Really outrageous Ozzy! OK, so there wasn't much of a stage show and Ozzy isn't much of a showman and nothing really gross happened. But, you say, what about that head banging heavy metal for which Black Sabbath was famous? Those droning, repetitive guitar riffs and all? Unfortunately, Ozzys current sound isn't even very good heavy metal; it is more an undistinguished mishmash of hard rock and mediocre ballads. His brand of "madness," it's true, is selling; there's always a market for this sort of style, particularly in the Midwest. But in terms of on stage performances, at least, this "madman's" diary makes for mighty mundane reading.

February 2, 1982
Civic Arena, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania


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The ads for last night's Civic Arena concert hailed Ozzy Osbourne as the "Metal Maniac," a reference to his music (Heavy Metal) and demeanor (maniacal). The ad says nothing about his talent. Wisely. Mr. Osbourne - for whom a more deserving nickname would be "Media Magician" - generally must find his way into the papers via outrageous acts that have nothing to do with music. He bit the head off a dead dove so that a gathering of record executives "wouldn't forget" him. He stood on the table and relieved himself into the wine carafe. He supposedly spent two months in an English sanitarium recently to quite his nerves. These and other items show up in the paper regularly. His musical credentials, on the other hand, consist of several years with Black Sabbath, which indeed might drive anyone nuts. But a sellout crowd - largely in their mid-teens - filled the Civic Arena last night to enthusiastically cheer Ozzy and his band. Some probably came to see if he'd do anything outrageous, say bite the tail off a cat. That's natural curiosity. Others came for the music. Those are the ones we have to worry about. After enduring more than an hour of the "Blizzard of Ozz", one is struck by the dependence of such plodding rock on flash and dazzle. An impressive, castle-motif set, and nifty special effects - Ozzy appears in a burst of light - and good lighting saved the show. The music? You had to ask. Some of it is credible, primitive rock n' roll - basic blues structures with Osbourne's wailing, unintelligible vocals on top. The slower, more ponderous songs sound like dance music for dinosaurs. Too bad it won't fade to extinction. The band - Randy Rhoads on guitar, Rudy Sarzo on drums and Tommy Aldridge on bass - produces a loud, growling, thudding sound not unlike Black Sabbath's. Rhoads had an occasional good solo, but the most impressive performance of the night was a Civic Arena usher who did her biology homework while the concert roared. Some of the songs were easy to get caught up in - "Crazy Train", "Suicide Solution", "I don't Know" stood out. "Goodbye to Romance", an attempt at a ballad, didn't come off. And it's no accident that Sabbath's "Iron Man" got one of the loudest receptions. Even though Osbourne relies so heavily on showmanship, he's oddly uncharismatic onstage. He tends to stay put at center stage, his exhorting of the crowd is forced and cliche and for all the partying going on, his presentation seems sullen as some of the music. He doesn't seem to have half the fun as his crazy counterpart, Alice Cooper. But there's something about this crazy image he's perpetrated that appeals to young hard rock fans, and they did fill every seat in the theater-style arrangement at the Arena. So one is tempted to look extra hard for some artistic validity. It's just not there. The question nags at the back of the mind: Would he be as popular A.) without his Black Sabbath lineage; B.) without the ridiculous publicity stunts? The answer that keeps coming back: Doubt it.

February 17, 1982
Sam Houston Coliseum, Houston, Texas


I didn't put the picture of the "headline" as it only said - Music: Ozzy Osbourne

If Ozzy Osbourne is the demon king of heavy-metal then he was bent on taking his Coliseum audience with him into the depths of rock 'n roll hell. From the moment Osbourne, the former leader of occult rockers Black Sabbath, came onto the stage bathed in blood red light and decorated with black crosses and daggers hanging from stone archways, he hypnotized his fans with rock music as hard and driving as it can get. The sinister overtones of his earlier days were still alive in songs like Suicide Solution and Goodbye to Romance both from his first solo album, Blizzard of Ozz, the latter being sung to the vision of a midget (who had earlier been dousing Osbourne with water between tunes) hanging from a noose above the drummers head. With its eerie tone and seemingly built-in echo, Osbourne's voice rang through the hall as he dared the crowd, all standing on chairs, to have a "rock 'n roll riot." And what Osbourne may lack in originality of theme, he and lead guitarist Randy Rhoads made up for in the energy and stamina needed to take the band from one blasting song to the next. As of 10:45 p.m., there was no dead bat incident, for which Osbourne made headlines in a concert last month, but his Houston fans didn't seem to mind.

February 19, 1982
Convention Center Arena, San Antonio, Texas


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Thousands of fanatical followers of rock star Ozzie Osbourne, whose bizarre stage antics include biting the heads off bats and other small animals, staged a mini-riot at the Convention Center last night. Eleven full-length, plate glass windows outside the arena were broken by the pulsating crowd of more than 13,900 as it entered for the rock concert. After the show began, police officers dispersed some of the roving mob. At least four paddy-wagon loads of more than 20 youths were hauled to Bexar County Jail and the Juvenile detention center last night. Charges were pending at midnight. Unofficial damage estimates to the windows was about $5,000, police said, to be paid by the promoters. There were no injuries reported immediately. Actions of the mob trying to enter the over-sold concert perhaps fulfilled one of Osbourne's predictions from earlier yesterday. In an exclusive interview, the star told The Light, "If I had a kid, I wouldn't let him come to my show." Earlier in the day, Osbourne was arrested on charges of public drunkenness after he relieved himself on a column outside The Alamo. In doing that, Osbourne said he accomplished one of his lifetime goals. But he said his main goal in life is to use the White House steps as a public bathroom, too. Arrested about 3 p.m., Osbourne was released from jail about 4:30 p.m. after Jack Orbin, a producer of Stone City Attractions, co-sponsor of the concert, posted a $40 bond. Osbourne told police he did not know if he would be able to return to SanAntonio to stand trial. In the exclusive interview, Osbourne, formerly a member of the rock group Black Sabbath, was asked why he performs such outrageous stunts as the mutilation of animals during his stage act, and why he performs antics like the one that resulted in his arrest yesterday. Osbourne said he bites the heads off bats and other winged creatures because "it's meat. I'm sure you like meat, too. Just because there aren't banners like McDonalds or Kentucky Fried Chicken doesn't mean the meat's not good." Osbourne, who underwent a series of rabies shots after biting the head off a bat earlier in his U.S. tour, said he stopped treatment because he "would rather have rabies" than take the shots. Are the animal mutilations and the arrest for public intoxication good box office draws? "No" Osbourne said. "Parents read about it and won't let their kids come to the show. If I had a kid, I wouldn't let him come to my show. But, it's like cigarettes. I'm sure your dad once told you that if he caught you smoking he'd beat you, but you just went out and bought six packs and smoked them." Osbourne said. The rock star, clad in a black and tan nylon jumpsuit and surrounded by groupies during the interview, munched on cheese nachos and answered most of the questions with a joke. When asked what stage antics he had in store for his SanAntonio audience, Osbourne - an attractive young man with shaggy blonde hair - said, "I have a midget and I'm going to bite his head off." SanAntonio Police earlier reported that someone claiming to be a member of Osbourne's entourage telephoned the department to ask whether the city had an ordinance banning "biting the head off a goat." Osbourne said his jail stay had convinced him to do something "bizarre" at his concert last night. "Wouldn't you want to do something bizarre if you'd spent all afternoon in jail?", he asked. "Yeah, I think it will be my most bizarre." A spokesman for Osbourne's London press office said the rock star was at the Alamo yesterday to pose for some photographs for Melody Maker, a London publication. When a park ranger alleged Osbourne was going to the bathroom in public, the singer climbed the pillars in the front alcove at the Texas shrine. Police arrested him after smelling alcohol on his breath. After Osbourne was taken to jail in a paddy wagon, he was "quiet and subdued, answering 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' " to police questioning, said jailers who were present when the musician was booked. The teen idol appeared in concert at the Arena with the rock bands UFO and Starfighters, where, according to rumors broadcast on radio stations, he planned to inflate a dead goat and hack it into pieces with a chain saw. Police officers on duty at the concert were ordered not to allow any live animals into the Arena. Inside the Arena, once the performance began, the crowd was reported as "subdued" for a typical rock concert. Police Sgt. Robert Rudewick, said the concert crowd did not cause the problems inside the Arena. "The problem was the crowd outside throwing rocks," Rudewick said. "Most of the ones causing trouble wouldn't have bought a ticket anyway." Greg Wilson, a representative of Stone City Attractions which sponsored the concert with Jam Productions, said he hoped no one was injured during the melee. "I don't want anybody to get hurt," Wilson said. "I don't want a riot, but anytime you have an over sold show there's extra energy outside." Rudewick and Wilson said Osbourne used no live animals in his SanAntonio performance. Perhaps the most outrageous thing Osbourne did was grab a Dolly Parton-sized white bra that was tossed up from the crowd and twirl it around his arm while singing, then put it on and prance around the stage. According to The Light's reviewer at the concert, the best part of the show was a guitar solo by Osbourne's lead guitarist Randy Rhoads. Osbourne's lyrics were difficult to understand. The rest of the music was too loud, and the acoustics in the Arena made everything sound muffled, the reviewer said. Overall the concert was a disappointment when compared to the tight, well-done Ozzie Osbourne albums, since he write some extremely interesting lyrics, but not enough of each song could be understood to grasp any meaning, she said.

February 20, 1982
Reunion Arena, Dallas, Texas


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An Ozzy Osbourne concert is the pin that bursts the ballon of Ozzy Osbourne hype. The man is a pussycat. And not a very well-trained one either. While an enthusiastic and comparatively well behaved crowd waited 73 minutes for something to happen - for him to eat, or at least bite something - Osbourne waddled through a dismal set of irrelevant rock 'n' roll Saturday night at Reunion Arena. No, Ozzie didn't desecrate any monuments here. He didn't whip the crowd into unorganized frenzy. He didn't eat, chew or bite a single thing. Oh, yes, he did execute a dwarf. But the little blighter had it coming to him. He spent too much time scampering about the stage waving towels and throwing placards into the audience. He looked like an overgrown rat dressed as Friar Macabre, and he got just what he deserved. Besides, the dwarf came back from the dead at the end of the show and threw raw meat over a bunch of people in the first couple of rows. Of course, anyone buying tickets in the front row of an Ozzy Osbourne concert gets just what they deserve, too. (Actually Osbourne used an optical illusion to give the impression the dwarf had been executed by hanging. One could feel some sympathy for the little devil because he had to whirl about in the breeze, suspended right over the drummer, during the entire length of one of Osbourne's typically dreary numbers.) Jack Beckman, who manages Reunion Arena, was quoted earlier in the week as saying he would stop the show if Osbourne killed any animal on stage. Ozzy Osbourne was quoted as saying he doesn't do that sort of thing, really, because that's cruelty to animals. One tends to doubt his sincerity after sitting through one of his concerts. If that's not cruelty to animals, I don't know what is. The Callier Center for the Curly of hearing should have set up a booth outside Reunion Arena Saturday. It would have made a killing. A uniformed police officer posted at one of the entrances said Saturday night's crowd was well-behaved. Opening the show Saturday were UFO and Starfighter. UFO played a lot of songs that sounded distressingly similar, although one could not say the groups performance was lethargic. Starfighter got all of 25 minutes to show its wares, which was plenty of time.

February 21st, 1982
Memorial Coliseum, Corpus Christi, Texas


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Animal-lovers, take heart. Rock singer Ozzy Osbourne blasted through Corpus Christi last night and didn't bite a thing. For the past few weeks, humane society and city officials had expressed concern that Osbourne would repeat a bat-biting incident that occurred earlier this year at a rock concert. During that concert, Osbourne dispatched the bat by chewing its head off. In addition, the self proclaimed :Mad Man of Rock" had decapitated a dove by biting its head off during a meeting with recording executives. Spurred on by media publicity, more than 6,000 Osbourne fans jammed a sold-out Memorial Coliseum last night to hear Osbourne. Many in the crowd had been milling around the Coliseum grounds since early afternoon. Adding to the giant throng were nearly 50 off-duty and on-duty police officers. Law enforcement officials at the Coliseum emphasized that a small riot Friday night at an Osbourne concert in SanAntonio did not influence the number of officers assigned to last night's event. The riot in SanAntonio occurred when a number of fans unable to enter the auditorium because of a sellout began breaking the glass on the arena's doors. "The ones that usually cause the trouble are the ones that can't get in. But it looks like we have a well-behaved crowd," said Commander Robert Sullivan of the Corpus Christi Police Department. Sullivan coordinated last night's security for the concert. Sullivan said that the 23 off-duty officers had been hired by the Coliseum for security and that an additional 20 to 25 on-duty officers were assigned to the concert by his department. Earlier this week, city officials urged that ordinances regarding cruelty to animals be enforced during the concert. Humane society representatives had asked the City Council to look into the Osbourne concert because of previous incidents and rumors of repeat performances. Asked what would have been done if Osbourne had brought an animal on stage, Sullivan said, "The officers are instructed to call me. What's next. We'll see when it gets to that." Several of the more than 6,000 young people attending the concert said they had been lured to the show by the rumors of "animal sacrifices" and "bloodied animals." Sales were brisk for T-shirts proclaiming "Ozzy bit the big one," illustrated with a portrait of a bloody, headless bat. One concert-goer said that he had heard a rumor that another Osbourne T-shirt soon would be coming out detailing the singer's arrest for disorderly conduct on Friday in SanAntonio. Osbourne had been arrested and jailed for 15 minutes after he urinated on the wall surrounding the Alamo in downtown SanAntonio.

March 2nd, 1982
Hirsch Coliseum, Shreveport, Louisiana


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Ozzy Osbourne didn't bite the heads off any animals during his concert at Hirsch Coliseum Tuesday night, but the were probably a few two-legged animals out of the 6,585 people present who, expecting gore and grisly goings on, would have liked to bite off his head. Osbourne and his band arrived after a week or so of dire publicity - news which, to date, has had him targeted by animal lovers, doing vile things to the Alamo, conspiring to harm goats, doves and bats and being warned off by district attorneys. After all that, the man got on stage and provided a rather homogenous mix of loud, rather insipid and uninspired sound which sober souls would never confuse with music. What fans paid $9.50 each to hear was instead a rather discombobulated arrangement of pseudo-medieval mumbo jumbo presented against a backdrop of Neo-Gothic stage props that could have been borrowed from a Podunk production of Macbeth. There were just under 90 minutes of sound, including a short encore that followed the main set with indecent swiftness. He didn't even snap at a bat. What he did do was sing off pitch and present a few new songs along with a smattering of old Black Sabbath tunes. And he did it with something less than the energy and devotion his advance publicity would indicate. The most excitement that happened in Hirsch Tuesday night was during a break when there was a fracas between police and a youth who appeared to have jumped on one of the refreshment vendors. The buildup - which resulted in a rather brisk police search of bulky and suspicious folks at the ticket doors, for one thing - generated crowd energy and tension which found precious little release in the performance. Osbourne did a lot of posturing without actually striking a continued pose. There was a stage hanging - thank you, Alice Cooper - and an appearance by a little black clad figure who played Igor to Ozzys Dr. Frankenstien. (Osbourne told the standard and mold-encrusted joke - "This is my Mummy" - which shredded any presentations of seriousness the show may have had up to that time.) In fact, the Osbourne stage show seemed like a medley of short takes from Wagner operas performed by a troupe of theater-of-the-absurd dropouts. In small bites the show might have been fun, but presented en masse the bites bit back. Of course, there were some people who seemed to be enjoying the show for what it was, outrage set to sound or what UFO's Phil Mogg, in an interview published in The Times Tuesday morning, termed "livestock rock n' roll". It is tempting to wonder how many people would pay $9.50 for a repeat performance by Ozzy and his four fellow players. UFO presented a more solidly based set, which offered 10 songs in 50 minutes. The band performed at rather loud volume and the vocals and melodies of most of the songs were swallowed in the cavernous expanse of the coliseum.
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RR-ElectricAngel
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Post by RR-ElectricAngel »

I still remember Ozzy being banned from San Antonio. Thankfully, it only lasted 10 years.
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Post by Cpt Matt Sparrow »

These are great to read thanks UR!
Having a break from online activity for a while to concentrate on music. Please email if you need to get in touch. Matt
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Post by GUITARIDOL5682 »

I have just getting this from a fan who went to the 29th November 1981 Bristol Colston Hall gig. It's a small review from the Bristol Evening Post 1st December 1981. The crowd refused to go home and Ozzy came back on stage wearing just his underpants.

"DIARY OF A MAD MOON: Bristol punters were rewarded for their persistent applause at last Sunday's Blizzard Of Ozz gig. Normally Ozzy's 'eroes only do one encore but so rowdy were the crowd that the band eventually returned from the dressing room led by Oz sporting just a pair of grimy y-fronts. As a further treat the man mooned as a final farewell gesture. Perhaps him and Buster Bloodvessel (Bad Manners singer) could have a mooning contest...the mind boggles".
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Trigger
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Post by Trigger »

Does the person concerned remember what the extra song was? they ended that set list in 1981 with 'Steal away' which followed 'Paranoid'
Cologne she'll wear silver and americard, She'll drive a beetle car and beat you down at cool Canasta. And when the clothes are strewn don't be afraid of the room touch the fullness of her breast feel the love of her caress she will be your living end.
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by Ace5150 »

Was the first review written by Gary Bushall? Seems familiar
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by GUITARIDOL5682 »

I'm sure that review came from 'the Sounds' magazine so it will be from the pen of Garry Bushell. I think some of that review was mentioned as part of Randy's obituary in the Diary of a Madman book wrote by Mick Wall.
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by Ace5150 »

Yes, the obituary that Bushell wrote included the 'tender as an angels kiss' line, made me think that it was.
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by Jhamm10 »

I was at the Feb 12, 1982 show in Cincinnati Ohio. I think Starfighters opened. They were good. But it was Randy we went to see. He was awesome. The show was great. I still have the tour program I bought that night. A little over a month later he was gone. It broke my heart. Still does. I also have a large picture I bought later that was taken that night of Randy with Ozzy. It's pretty cool.

Really nice site. I like it. :D
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by blues_n_cues »

i was @ the corpus christi show & still hav the ticketstub & that article from the caller times newspaper. ozzy was way off but Randy was stellar.
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by watersfootball »

I did see some reviews untidy Sarzos book ofshows that weren't really good, then I listened to the bootlegs and the were amazing, haters, lol
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by electricmombie »

Hey watersfb. How are you? You read Rudy's book, too? Cool! It's a good read, although I take into question a few things Rudy says, such as that they didn't play "No Bone Movies" live until the U.S. 'Diary' tour, which, of course they did(seeing how there are several bootlegs with "N.B.M." live on it from the early-'81 U.S. 'Blizzard Of Ozz' tour, such as The Palladium on 5/2/81) .

That, and he made a goof identifying the 'Tribute' album gig as being Montreal, when it wasn't at all (of course, Cleveland 5/11/81). Minor quibbles.. But then, he's had a long career. Ya can't remember everything! (I can though. lol) .

Why he thinks the 7/27/81 Montreal gig is better than 7/28/81, I have no idea. The 7/27 set was perfunctory enough; it just doesn't have the mojo of the following night's gig. Aside from these minor beeves (lol), I enjoyed his book a lot.

In fact, I thanked him for the book on 'Facebook' a year or so ago, and I got a thank-you reply back. Aww hell, I met Rudy twice over the years: in 1983 during an in-store appearance with Quiet Riot at Strawberrie's record store in Latham, NY and then again in 1990 when he and Adrian Vandenberg of Whitesnake did an appearance at the Century House in Latham, NY. I still have my signed cassette copies of 'Metal Health', 'Tribute', 'Whitesnake' and 'Slip Of The Tongue' (the follow-up album to 'Whitesnake'. -The Ed.).

I haven't read the other book on Randy yet; 'Crazy Train: " " '. Have you? If so, how was it?

Have a good day. Thanks, peace, see you around.

em/tg
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Re: Diary of a Madman tour reviews

Post by GUITARIDOL5682 »

This is the Madison Square Garden review from April 1982.
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