Back to the Beginning: A Farewell Rooted in Humanity, History, and Heavy Metal
On July 5th, 2025, something truly extraordinary happened. Not just a concert. Not just a tribute. But a living, breathing celebration of a genre, a city, and four young lads from Aston who unknowingly created a global movement. Back to the Beginning was the name of the event — and rarely has a title felt more apt.
Like many, I couldn’t be there in person, but as a Brummie and lifelong Black Sabbath fan, I streamed the show live — and then again — soaking in the weight of what this moment represented. This wasn’t just a gig. This was history, emotion, struggle, gratitude, legacy. Most of all, it was Ozzy Osbourne’s night. A final bow that brought grown men to tears, including me.
More Than Music
There were countless performances, all powerful in their own right. Bands like Mastodon, Rival Sons, Halestorm, Lamb of God, Slayer, Metallica, and many more brought Sabbath’s catalogue to life in their own unique ways. But what elevated this event beyond music was the reverence that surrounded each note.
Between the sets were clips of Birmingham — its people, its artists, its skyline. Interviews and crowd vox pops showcased the diversity and youth of the audience. Sabbath isn’t just the soundtrack to the past anymore. It’s alive, passed from generation to generation, still relevant, still vital.
And that, I think, was the point.
Youngblood, Changes, and the Unexpected
Of all the surprises that night, the moment that caught me off guard emotionally was Youngblood’s rendition of Changes. This wasn’t a cover. It was a reinterpretation so full of soul, sincerity, and raw feeling that even Nuno Bettencourt, who accompanied on guitar, looked visibly moved. You could feel the crowd shift — a collective breath held, hearts pulled tight. That’s the power of music when it’s meant.
Ozzy’s Goodbye
I feared the worst and hoped for the best. Ozzy’s health has been no secret. Parkinson’s, surgeries, injuries — many questioned whether he could do it at all. But there he was, seated but strong, holding court like the metal monarch he is.
When he opened with I Don’t Know, I was floored by how good his voice sounded. There were water breaks, yes. A visible effort to stand when he could. But through it all, he sang from the heart. He didn’t just turn up — he performed.
When he paused to thank Sharon, to explain that he’s been “laid up for six years”, it was a moment that broke the fourth wall entirely. The crowd welled up. So did I. There’s no faking that kind of vulnerability. No rock star swagger. Just honesty. Just Ozzy.
Sabbath: One Last Time
The reunion with Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler, and Bill Ward was the final curtain. Only four songs, but what a four:
War Pigs
N.I.B.
Iron Man
Paranoid
Bill Ward’s return behind the kit was emotional enough. He played beautifully, bringing back that jazz swing that has always separated Sabbath from the rest. Geezer’s basslines thundered and weaved like a one-man orchestra. Tony’s riffs? Timeless. Still unshakable.
But Ozzy. My god, Ozzy. You could see the effort. The frustration. The determination. And you could see the love pouring toward him from the band and crowd alike. When they hit Paranoid, complete with synced visuals of Randy Rhoads on screen, I think every Sabbath fan in the world felt the full weight of what we were witnessing. A final transmission from the heart of heavy metal.
A Celebration, Not a Eulogy
There was confusion online afterwards about the band’s exit. Ozzy was briefly left alone on stage as fireworks erupted. Some saw tension. In truth, Tony and Geezer had gone to get a cake for Ozzy — a gesture of love and camaraderie. Moments later, they returned, hugged, and said their goodbyes as brothers.
It was a living memorial — not in mourning, but in triumph. A celebration while the people we’re celebrating are still here to feel it.
Reflections From a Brummie
Growing up in Birmingham, Sabbath were part of my DNA. I carried their albums like talismans. They were protection, identity, defiance. Hearing those songs now is like reading diary entries etched into vinyl grooves. At this concert, I saw not just my past, but my present and future reflected back.
What struck me most was the sheer humanity of it all. Musicians just having fun. Young and old sharing space and sound. From pop stars to metal gods, everyone knew this mattered.
Back to the Beginning wasn’t perfect — it was far more than that. It was real. Messy, beautiful, loud, and human.
Thank you Ozzy.
Thank you Sabbath.
Thank you Birmingham.
By Phil Aston | Now Spinning Magazine
