Ozzy Osbourne has been part of my life since I was 12. At that time, I was living in the U.S., and it was my stepbrother Brian who introduced me to his music. He was a few years older — a big brother I looked up to. I remember him playing me the Tribute album and telling me the story of Ozzy and the brilliance of Randy Rhoads, who had died tragically young.

Not long after that, in 1988, I moved to the Netherlands. It was a major moment of transition — leaving home, moving from my mom’s to my dad’s. Before we even found a house in Holland, I found a record store — The Free Record Shop. The first music I bought there was Ozzy Osbourne’s Blizzard of Ozz, on vinyl. I remember putting it on and being completely blown away by the harmonics, the guitar, the vibe.

I went on to buy every Ozzy album that came out, following every guitarist — Randy Rhoads, Jake E. Lee, Zakk Wylde — and digging into Black Sabbath’s full discography just to hear more of that sound. Back then, following music was a hands-on experience: physical magazines, record shops, posters, album covers pinned to the wall.

Some of my friends thought Ozzy wasn’t “heavy” enough and teased me for it, but I loved the melodic range and pitch of his voice, the emotion of the songs, and the way he truly connected with his audience. I could sing along to every song, knew every riff, every note of every solo. His music wasn’t just something I listened to — it became part of who I was.

Later, I shared this passion with my close friend Dion, whose passing remains the saddest chapter in my life. Listening to Ozzy together is one of those precious memories I’ll never let go of.

I only saw Ozzy live once — at Download Festival in the UK, in 2010, performing as Black Sabbath. I got close to the front of the stage, and I’ll never forget it: Ozzy dropped to his knees, bowed fully with his forehead to the ground and arms stretched forward — in every direction of the crowd. It was poetic.

Just two weeks before his passing, I stayed up half the night to livestream Back to the Beginning, the big tribute concert in Birmingham. It was incredible. Not just musically brilliant — every band brought their A-game — but also full of love, respect, and good vibes. The backstage footage, the smiles, the shared reverence for Ozzy and Black Sabbath — it all reminded me of what made this music so enduring.

Music has always been more than sound for me. It’s memory. Emotion. Identity. And the artists who give themselves to it shape our lives in ways they’ll never fully know.

Ozzy wasn’t just an influence — he was the beginning. The reason I picked up a guitar. The reason I make music at all. He’ll always be part of my story.