To properly send off Ozzy Osbourne, the Black Sabbath frontman who died July 22 at age 76, his family needed the perfect band. It couldn’t be a metal band — too loud for a memorial service. And it couldn’t be a funeral band — too solemn and boring. Fortunately, city officials in Osbourne’s hometown of Birmingham, England, had a solution: Bostin Brass Band, a local, 13-year-old New Orleans-style group that had performed several Ozzy and Sabbath classics at other large events.
“We’d done that,” trumpeter Aaron Diaz tells Billboard. “Proof of concept.”
During Osbourne’s public memorial Wednesday (July 30), Bostin Brass Band marched at the front of thousands of Birmingham well-wishers, as well as the hearse carrying the singer and five SUVs containing Osbourne’s widow, Sharon, and his children Jack and Kelly, among others. The three family members, all in black, congregated at the city’s central Black Sabbath Bridge, taking in the mass of floral tributes, balloons and flags. Bostin Brass had been playing “Crazy Train,” but they stopped as the family mourned, allowing for a brief silence.
“We were just a conduit of this emotion,” Diaz says. “We’re aiding that collective moment.”
Diaz, a longtime Birmingham resident, spoke to Billboard by Zoom and reflected on what it was like to help a city say goodbye to its Prince of Darkness.
What was it like being there, emotionally, with so many people mourning Ozzy?
All of us have played in that location thousands of times. We’ve done parades, we’ve done concerts, we’ve done street gigs. But there’s never been a roped-off crowd. There’s never been that kind of devotional direction of energy. You go by and get snippets of “Come on, guys!,” “Yes, son!” and “Pull for Ozzy!” By the end, on the square during the crowd dispersal, we played “Changes.” Every time I went to the chorus, I covered my eyes. I don’t think I looked anyone in the eye for a good 15 minutes. It was too much.
Where were you in relation to the crowds?
We were sandwiched between the police cordon and motorbikes, and we led the cortege from in front of the hearses. There was Ozzy’s hearse up front and the family in about five black SUVs following us. We processed at the beginning, tailing into the street, playing “Iron Man” all the way down. The crowds were singing along — half singing and half chanting. It’s like being at a metal gig. There’s a term, “oggy, oggy, oggy!” Have you heard that one? It’s a rugby shout. But obviously, it’s Ozzy, so everyone’s “Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy!” When we reached the tribute, we played “Crazy Train” and we stopped and the family came out.
I could sense from watching the live feed from the bridge there were a gazillion people there.
It was folks filling up from about half [past] seven. There were already some people that camped out opposite the bridge. Slowly, over the next three hours, it filled up. All the offices there had their lunch break and everyone was coming down in their lanyards — anyone and everyone from Birmingham. A lot of people [were] traveling from very far afield — in band T-shirts, young children, grandparents, everyone in between.
How did Bostin Brass get this gig?
We work with a company called OPUS — Outdoor Places Unusual Spaces. They’ve got a good relationship with the city council. We started working with them around the Commonwealth Games, which came to Birmingham in 2022. Black Sabbath re-formed to do the closing ceremony. Ozzy was there and his chant of “Birmingham forever!” struck a chord.
Fast-forward to 2023, this animatronic bull became a tourist attraction. By public vote, it was called Ozzy the Bull. There was a big unveiling — Sharon Osbourne was there. We were involved with that, through our involvement in public events. Our baritone player, Alicia Gardener-Trejo, she’s a big metal fan, as well as her mom. They go to festivals together. She was like, “Well, this is the perfect opportunity. I’m going to start arranging this metal concert for brass band that I’ve wanted to do for my mom’s 70th birthday.” We played “Paranoid,” “Iron Man” and “Crazy Train.”
A week ago, the event organizers come around and say Ozzy Osbourne had died: “We’re sending this, we’re going to get this over to the Osbournes, you have to do this, here’s the information.” I thought it would be a Birmingham City Council tepid event, but [the public memorial] is an event the Osbournes have funded. It kind of has been this growing dawning of thought: “This is huge, this is epic.” We are very light on our feet, we can march down the road, we don’t need any amplification, but we can bring that kind of big energy. And we’re an unusual band. We’re not a metal band, even though we’re enthusiasts and devotees of him and his legacy, but we’re really tied to that New Orleans tradition with jazz musicians. So it’s marrying those two things. Maybe it puts us in a category of one.
What else do you hope people take away from this memorial?
Just the pride we have in representing the city. Ozzy’s a proxy for the character of the city. Birmingham’s used to being sat on a lot and not being as affluent or as a desirable and celebrated location. But it’s fought back. I don’t think other places in our country enjoy that grit, that lineage. It felt significant for us to champion that. I don’t think Ozzy’s music is something that started here and left. It’s really stayed here.
