Ozzy goes AussieI went to see Ozzy Osborne last week at Acer Arena with Cheeks and a couple of his mates. I was excited, yet apprehensive.
See, I don't do mosh pits.
So I told Cheeks if he wanted to go right up to the stage, by all means, go for it. But Nana Shea was going to stand slightly off to the side in a “safe zone” where my chances of getting kicked in the head were quite slim.
Once we arrived at Acer Arena I smiled at the realisation that I was the only one there not wearing all black. Oh well, at least I would be easy to find in a crowd.
Before the main show began, we were treated to Ozzy Spoof Theatre, which consisted of several minutes of, well, spoofs and giggles. Ozzy in Pirates of the Caribbean. Ozzy shitting on the office floor in The Office, Ozzy in the Sopranos, Ozzy in The Queen (whilst servicing her queenly nether regions, which was both hilarious and severely disturbing).
I was really keen to see how Ozzy would hold up at a concert considering the poor old bugger's got MS and, you know, that whole “years of drug use” thing. I have to say I was pretty damn impressed with Ozzy. The man can do starjumps like nobody's business. Me, having the damn acid reflux, could not keep up. I think that officially makes me older than Ozzy, in rock years. I clapped my hands in a starjumps-like manner, but I couldn't do the actual jumping bit. I wouldn't say I was a star without the jumps, but more like a half-assed clapper.
It was actually quite cute to see how happy and grinning Ozzy was. He just looked so damned pleased and happy to be up there and performing for us, like an excited little kid who found his first porno underneath dad's pile of golf and fishing magazines.
Obviously, I am no where as familiar with Ozzy's solo stuff or Black Sabbath songs as Cheeks and his mates were, but I did recognise many of the songs, I enjoyed them all, and Ozzy could still pull off the singing AND the starjumps, so he did really well. Plus, he got Cheeks to sing, which he never does (much to my dismay!), so I was pretty excited about that. :-D
Cheeks informed me that Ozzy's guitar player that night was Zakk Wylde of Black Label Society. As soon as I saw Zakk on stage, I thought, “Oh, so THAT'S what happened to He-Man...” Seriously. Zakk had long flowing blonde hair, which was constantly blowing ever so gently in a professional wind-tunnel/fan set-up. He wore a rather impressive black leather vest and treated us to even more impressive guitar-work. His solos were inspirational and I felt jealous that while he could play complicated licks so well, even when playing behind his head and with his teeth, I can still only remember how to play “Every Breath You Take”, sigh...and “Blister in the Sun”, and neither of them very well. The most hilarious thing was that after his solos, he would punch his chest like Tarzan, kiss his knuckles, and raise his hands to heaven. I am going to try to incoporate this clever move when I say farewell at parties. I don't know if it will be as effective without the black leather vest, but I will give it a try.
I know I'm always harping on way too much about gig etiquette, but I have to mention this one annoying audience member. The Ozzy crowd was extremely polite with regards to personal space. We had Gold tickets (Thanks, Cheeks!) and we were on the floor and pretty damn close to the stage, yet still out of harm's way.
Well, almost.
Most of the moshing/jumping was happening right up in front of the stage, where it should always be. The only person who almost injured me on the night was a woman I estimated to be about 55. Her dancing was frenetic, annoying, and completely inappropriate. I could see all the big boys around us giving each other “WTF?” looks. If you're not actually in the mosh pit, I do not understand why it's so hard to move and dance without actually hurting the people around you. Actually, it's not hard. It's not hard at all. Those who cannot dance without annoying/injuring the people around them, even when there's plenty of room, deserve to be drop-kicked to the ground pronto.
So, this lady was thrashing her voluptuous hair around, which kept getting in our face/eyes. Her pointy elbows were jutting out everywhere, her clenched fists pumping the air overly enthusiastically. I really wanted to force-feed her valium.
During a slow song, I looked over at her and saw her with tears streaming down her face, her hands holding her cheeks, her mouth open in shock, adoration, and ecstacy.
My only guess is that she perhaps slept with Ozzy about 30 years ago and still hasn't recovered. ;-)
p.s. Ozzy mooned us within the first 3 minutes of the show, but for the first time ever, I was pleased when a tall person chose that delicate moment to move in front of me at a gig, thankfully blocking my view. ;-)
