In honor of Ozzy, this is a rewrite/re-review of a post written a few years ago.

October 16, 2001. The towers are down. The country is shook. And Ozzy Osbourne drops “Down to Earth”, an album caught in the crossfire between his myth and his mortality.

This isn’t Ozzy the bat-biting madman. This is Ozzy the tired father, the aging icon, the guy who’s slowly realizing that the monster people made him into is more cartoon than chaos now. It’s a rock album, sure, but under all the distortion is something we didn’t expect: a man falling apart, loudly.

Zakk Wylde’s back, but barely. He’s a hired gun here, not the warlord we saw on “No More Tears”. He plays, but doesn’t write a damn note. And that’s a first.

Instead, you’ve got a Frankenstein writing crew: Joe Holmes, Rob Trujillo, Mike Bordin, Mick Jones (yep, from Foreigner), Geoff Nichols, Marti Frederiksen, Tim Palmer, even Danny Saber. At one point, Offspring,Weezer and Dave Grohl tried to contribute songs. Dave Fucking Grohl. Zakk’s response in a Guitar World interview from November 2001? Legendary:

“Foo Fighters is a fucking candy-ass girl band… Let him get up there and play Mr. Crowley.”

Not exactly a warm collab.

The chaos behind the scenes? You can hear it. This album wasn’t created, it was stitched together like a body in a morgue. And somehow, it lives.

Tim Palmer, best known for producing U2 and Tears for Fears, was a bizarre choice for Ozzy. But he co-wrote most of the songs, played a bunch of instruments, and literally took the guitar out of Zakk’s hands to show him how to play it “better.”

Zakk was not amused. He wanted Les Pauls and Marshalls. Palmer wanted Telecasters and tone. They clashed like metal and pop always do.

And you feel that in the sound: polished, but bruised. Heavy, but with an identity crisis. It’s an album at war with itself, because its creators were at war with each other.

Gets Me Through

Ozzy rips the mask off: “I’m not the Antichrist or the Iron Man.” He thanks his fans while telling them they don’t really know him. The riff is heavy, the message heavier: Don’t believe the myth. Believe the mess.

Facing Hell

Religious hypocrisy served with a chugging riff and eerie ambience. If this was released today, it’d be written off as edgy. In 2001, it was relevant as hell.

Dreamer

This is Ozzy’s “Imagine.” A plea for peace from a man who once snorted ants. And it works. Earnest, beautiful, a little cheesy, but it lands.

No Easy Way Out

Ozzy admits he’s cracked. “Superman is dead.” Depression isn’t a lyric trend here, it’s a lived-in reality.

That I Never Had

Chasing fulfillment and coming up empty. He’s rich, famous, adored, and utterly hollow.

You Know… (Part 1)

A short Beatles-esque lament about broken relationships and time lost. This isn’t the monster’s voice anymore, it’s the man behind the curtain saying, “I fucked up.”

Junkie

The glamorization of addiction gets burned to the ground here. “That beautiful flower is eating your mind.” This isn’t heroin-chic. This is heroin as soul-eater. The prettiest things destroy you slowest.

Running Out of Time

Faith, hope, reason, all gone. “I haven’t even got a soul to sell.” This isn’t a cry for help, it’s a resignation letter written in blood and barbiturates.

Black Illusion

The manipulators wear makeup and smiles, and so does Ozzy. That’s the twist. The song starts as a warning. It ends as a confession. We’re all part of the illusion.

Alive

Maybe the most underrated cut here. It’s broken, desperate, hopeful, like someone who’s still breathing not because they want to, but because they’re too scared to stop.

“What keeps me alive is dreams.”

That line alone is enough to earn this song its place.

Can You Hear Them?

Ozzy’s final moment on the album is pure existential fatigue. “So sick and tired of living, and so afraid to die.” It’s not melodrama. It’s just truth. Raw, cold, unfiltered truth.

It’s not a classic. It’s not “Blizzard” or “Diary” or even “No More Tears”. But it’s important.

This is the album where the mask slips. Where the 70s horror movie Ozzy becomes the 2000s reality TV Ozzy. Where fame stops being a fantasy and starts being a funeral.

Post-9/11, the world was suddenly a darker, more cynical place. And “Down to Earth”, accidentally or not, caught that shift in tone perfectly.

“Down to Earth” is a crash landing. A confession booth in the middle of a circus. It’s Ozzy finally admitting: “I’m not who you think I am. I never was.”

And that? That’s the most rock & roll thing he’s done in decades.