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The Smashing Pumpkins will release their 13th studio album next month. The Billy Corgan-led group revealed on Friday (July 19) that the 10-track Aghori Mhori Mei will drop on August 2 as the follow-up to last year’s three-act rock opera, ATUM. Explore Explore See latest videos, charts and news See latest videos, charts and news […]
Trigger warning: the following story features discussions about rape and sexual assault.
The first thing that hit you was the unbearable, eye-wateringly putrid stench. Then, the slow realization that some of the “mud” the kids at Woodstock ’99 were rubbing all over their viciously sunburnt, exhausted bodies and tossing at each other was not, in fact, just mud.
The sight of hundreds of young concertgoers wallowing in the fetid pool of human waste mixed with dirt pooling around the porta-potties would have made me sick if it wasn’t the 20th worst thing I would end up experiencing at Woodstock ’99. It was just one of the many flashing danger signs of the sinister, apocalyptic vibe that slowly spread across the three-day (July 23-25) festival 25 years ago — which was, of course, intended to honor the original 1969 peace and love gathering on Max Yasgur’s dairy farm in Bethel, N.Y.
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Instead, what became a disastrous cash-in on the good will of the original — following a well-received reboot in 1994 featuring Metallica, a mud-caked Nine Inch Nails, Bob Dylan and Green Day — turned into a fiery nightmare, ending in riots and reports of four alleged rapes and multiple sexual assaults.
I was there and watched in disbelief as more than 200,000 attendees baked on the tarmac of the decommissioned Griffiss Air Force base in Rome, N.Y. — a Superfund site that had formerly housed hazardous materials — at an event that was as far from getting “back to the garden” as humanly possible. Gouged by the promoters selling $4 bottles of water and flavorless $12 pizzas (with many of the promised free water stations just trickling or irretrievably damaged), the three-day event got progressively weirder, darker and scarier, as attendees whipped themselves into a testosterone frenzy to the strains of bro bands like Insane Clown Posse, Korn, Limp Bizkit and Buckcherry.
The many stories I wrote on site alongside my colleagues at the pioneering online music magazine Addicted to Noise — which later included a 20-plus-part, award-winning investigative series spearheaded by reporters Brian Hiatt and Chris Nelson that dove into the nitty gritty of what went wrong — are lost to history now, following Paramount’s recent decision to pull the entire MTV News archive offline. But those memories are still seared into my brain, and at the time I remember quickly dashing off a bleary-eyed day-after essay the morning after the fires assessing the damage to the site, the psyche and the legacy of the beloved original three days of peace, love & rock ‘n roll.
(It’s worth mentioning that the 1969 edition also had its own issues — including massive gate-crashing that forced overwhelmed organizers to reluctantly turn it into a free event, as well as miles-long traffic jams coming in and out and a lack of proper sanitation, food and infrastructure to handle the unexpected crowds.)
I stayed on site all night reporting on the aftermath at Woodstock ’99, watching as black-helmeted, storm trooper-like police in riot gear marched into the chaotic scrum while looters smashed ATMs and vendor carts, set fire to 18-wheelers filled with soft pretzels and crashed through the comically flimsy, daisy-covered “peace wall” meant to keep the non-ticketed hordes off site. Those depressing scenes came after days of watching young men harassing the many topless women who’d had their chests adorned with glittery paint at airbrush stations, while female artists such as Alanis Morissette and Sheryl Crow were greeted by cheers mixed with endless frat boy bellows of “show us your t–s!!!” A dozen state troopers and police supervisors were later demoted or suspended for posing in photos with topless women or agreeing to have their cruisers washed by nude attendees.
The MTV News crew was forced to flee the scene in a hurry after amped-up rioters began shaking their broadcast tower during the final night as fires broke out during the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ headlining set. “Holy s–t, it looks like Apocalypse Now out there,” singer Anthony Kiedis said as he looked out on the flames and smoke rising in the crowd. The veteran band had taken the stage wearing hard hats rigged to shoot flames into the air, and their decision to cover original Woodstock performer Jimi Hendrix’s “Fire” proved to be ill-timed, as it was performed while a series of half a dozen massive bonfires sent flames into the sky all over the garbage-strewn field. The fuel for those fires: shattered shards of the what promoters had referred to as the perimeter-securing “peace fence.”
After suffering legendary gate-crashing at the original, peaceful event in 1969, which eventually swelled to half a million attendees, the 1999 promoters said beforehand that they were determined to lock down the military site. And in an effort that was comical until it was tragic, their solution was nearly six miles of plywood and steel fencing wall surrounding the tarmac, a barrier over which some fans easily tossed contraband to each other, and which they eventually breached on the final night. As the chaos erupted, I watched a stream of locked-out fans easily scale the wall. They were no match for the overwhelmed, by-then-exhausted uniformed force — which included more than 500 music fans in yellow “Peace Patrol” t-shirts, who’d had a total of two or three days of training and some of whom ditched their official gear to join the fun, and who struggled alongside 500 state troopers and a private security detail of 3,000 to maintain order.
Kid Rock during Woodstock ’99 in Saugerties, New York in Saugerties, New York.
KMazur/WireImage
To be clear: the riots and violence were not the direct result of the performers whipping up the crowd, the ill-chosen former military site or even what co-promoter Jon Scher derisively referred to as a few “bad apples” in the crowd wilding out. All of those factors certainly contributed to the weird vibe in the air, but the creeping sense that things were out of control took on a life of its own.
During what escalated into contentious daily news briefings by the promoters as the extent of the quagmire came into view to the assembled, frustrated press, Scher — who co-produced the event with original Woodstock co-founder Michael Lang (who died in 2022) — was asked repeatedly about the obvious breakdowns in infrastructure, crowd control and fan safety all weekend. Pushing back on reporters, at the time Scher often dissembled and appeared to brush aside concerns about what was clearly an increasingly out-of-control situation. More than two decades later, Scher continued blaming Limp Bizkit for some of the violence after their fans tore plywood sheets from a lighting tower to crowd surf while again brusquely brushing aside claims of mismanagement.
“Nobody came thinking they were going to stay at the Ritz Carlton,” he said in the 2022 Netflix documentary Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99, once again blaming “knuckleheads” (which he put in the 50-or-so range) for “causing trouble”; Scher made similar comments in another W99 doc from HBO in 2021 entitled Woodstock 99: Peace, Love, and Rage. His most outrageous claims came in response to questions about how women were treated on site and about the reports of the alleged rapes and sexual assaults. “There were a lot of women who voluntarily had their tops off,” he said in Trainwreck. “Then you get into a mosh pit and you crowd surf. Could somebody have touched their breasts? Yes, I’m sure they did. What could I have done about it? I’m not sure I could have done anything.”
Scher, who was not involved in the original Woodstock but did co-promote the 1994 version, was also not a part of a failed 2019 attempt at a 50th anniversary edition that melted down due to permitting and financing issues.
Speaking to Billboard this week, Scher says one of the lessons he learned was “you can’t have these heavy metal based bands” performing one after another in such an “isolated” location. Asked if that was disingenuous given the riot-free success of the all-metal touring OzzFest, as well as dozens of other hard rock festivals in the years since that have not devolved into such chaos, Scher says it was a “different era… it seems to me that by 1999 the ‘tribes’ got more aggressive… [But] these were dumb kids out having a blast, many inebriated.”
Scher again points to Limp Bizkit, saying that in his 50 years of promoting he’s “never” had to pull the plug on a band like he did when the Fred Durst-led group’s set got out of control during “Break Stuff” as fans began crowd surfing on plywood panels ripped from rigging.
He also says his team opened up some hangars to give weary fans some much-needed respite from the sun: “Who could have predicted the weather would be that terrible?” in the middle of the summer, he protests. Scher also points to the “intense” permitting and regulatory statues in New York regarding live gatherings, a direct aftermath of the 1969 festival, as the reason that the number of portable toilets, water stations and security were “more than adequate” for the job.
Unfortunately, he claims, the company hired to clean the toilets simply “didn’t show up” to service them twice a day as contracted and unruly fans wrecked a quarter of the free water stations, a combo that led to the “mud”-covered masses. “We couldn’t anticipate that,” he says, noting that the one reported fatality of an attendee was a young man who was helicoptered to a local hospital, where he later died.
As for the many alleged sexual assaults and four alleged rapes, after his poorly received comments in the films, the promoter was careful to explain that he was, “not saying they didn’t occur… but [according to Scher] not one person who said they got raped reported it to police during or after”; The New York Times reported on July 29, 1999 that four women reported to New York State Police that they had been raped at Woodstock ’99 and that a crisis counselor on site said they’d seen at least five women being gang-raped in the crowd. At the time, Police Captain John Wood told the Associated Press that, “it’s going to be difficult to pursue this because people have scattered to all parts of the country” and in the years since there don’t appear to have been any arrests or convictions tied to the alleged sexual assaults.
Scher’s careful to stress that the sexual violence may have occurred, and that his team sent senior security team members into the crowd to find the alleged offenders as well as alleged victims — but that it was a small group of hard rock “knuckleheads” and “animals” who were the main perpetrators of the violence and riots; out of the 200,000 on hand, Scher says less than 2% (this time he put the number at around 2,000) were responsible for the rioting, disorder and violence. “What happened was an atmosphere we didn’t really anticipate — one that was probably three-quarters men and women who took their tops off or who weren’t wearing any clothes,” Scher says.
James Brown performs on the east stage at Woodstock ’99 in Rome, New York at Griffiss AFB Park for the 30th Anniversary Concert July 23-25.
Frank Micelotta/ImageDirect
Regardless of the explanations of why things went wrong, I have to say that over the course of a 30-year career covering music, I have attended all but a handful of Lollapalooza festivals (the original touring edition and the stay-put in Chicago), the first four Coachellas and all but two of the Warped tours, in addition to dozens of other festivals — and this was still an unparalleled experience for me. While other festivals have had technical glitches, unfortunate injuries (as well as tragic heat-and drug-related deaths) and unplanned annoyances, not once have I seen anywhere near the type of chaos and disorder I observed at Woodstock ’99.
Have I seen young men grab women (and performers) inappropriately while they crowd surf, fans try to hop the eight-foot-tall fences around Grant Park in Chicago to bust into Lolla, or scramble for a sliver of shade at Coachella when the temperature hits the 100s? Of course.
But Woodstock ’99 was a different beast. After the initial salad days of touring festivals in the 1990s that launched Lolla, the jam-focused H.O.R.D.E., the R&B/hip-hop leaning Smokin’ Grooves, Ozzy Osbourne’s metal-themed OzzFest, the female-focused Lilith Fair and several more, Woodstock ’99 felt like the end of an era.
The shock to the system of the festival business afterwards had immediate consequences, many of which you can thank for the more comfortable, safer festival experience that has become standard operating procedure in the 21st century.
A week after the Woodstock ’99 fires were put out, California promoter Goldenvoice announced the first Coachella festival, an event they pointedly promised would be “high-comfort,” located on the picturesque, lush Empire Polo Club fields in Indio, CA. Attending that first year, the vibe was like a bizarro version of what I’d experienced just months earlier — with ample free water, bathrooms and parking, misting tents, shady rest areas and not a whiff of the air of menace and mendacity I experienced in Rome. Even during the ground-shaking headling set by Rage Against the Machine, fans cooked by the nearly triple-digit heat all day moshed to their heart’s content with little to no reports of the kind of violence and violations suffered at W99.
Billboard‘s senior director of live music and touring Dave Brooks says that after Woodstock, promoters began to share best-practices with each other, while dissecting what Scher and company got wrong and realizing that “an accident at one was bad for the whole business.”
“Festivals after Woodstock were more about the music community and the ethos of the festivals, where it went from merely surviving to something more like creating a utopian scene and expression of ideals,” Brooks says, noting that such events now are much safer. They are, of course, by no means impervious to tragedy, as evidenced by the 10 crowd-crush deaths and hundreds of injuries at 2021’s Astroworld Festival as well as 2017’s mass shooting assault on Las Vegas’ Route 91 Harvest festival in which a sniper killed 60 people and injured more than 800 more while firing a high-capacity rifle from an adjacent hotel.
“There’s no fool-proofing it, but things are much better,” says Brooks of today’s massive festivals — which, while safer, still sometimes result in tragic deaths, heat-related illness and deadly weather events. “Content and blaming hard rock acts is not an excuse for crowd-control issues… plenty of hard rock festivals take place around the world that don’t result in riots,” says Brooks.
As an example, when Lollapalooza established a permanent beachhead in Chicago in 2005, promoters dialed in comfort and safety via an impressive display of security, robust fencing and perimeter maintenance — while also offering plenty of free water stations, shady rest areas and rapid-fire responses to dangerous situations via clear chain of command.
There too, when the legendarily intense Rage played the boisterous crowd repeatedly pushed forward, causing a domino-like collapse of sweaty fans during a raucous 2008 headlining slot. In that case, the band halted the set three or more times to give security and attendees a moment to settle, diffusing what could have been a dangerous situation.
And when a freak, dangerous storm popped up in 2015, Lolla organizers pulled off what seemed like an impossible task: calmly evacuating more than 100,000 attendees from the park to safe shelter in less than an hour, and then just as professionally inviting them back in, with almost no incidents of note to report.
While I sprinted to my hotel room as horizontal torrents of rain pelted me along Michigan Ave., all I could think was, “thank God this isn’t Woodstock ’99.”
Sheryl Crow performs on the east stage at Woodstock ’99 in Rome, New York at Griffiss AFB Park for the 30th Anniversary Concert July 23-25.
Frank Micelotta/ImageDirect
Despite the deservedly terrible reputation the festival has developed over the past quarter century thanks to the final night disaster, Scher says he’s talked to “hundreds” of people since who said they had an “absolute blast” at Woodstock ’99. He also says the “peace” fence didn’t come down until the last night when someone rammed a Mercedes sedan through it — at which point the festival had already ended abruptly, after what he remembers as two-plus days of “amazing” music. He also stresses that he didn’t believe he was dishonest during the sometimes three-a-day briefings, but merely did not “embellish” his answers.
I’ll admit he’s not wrong about the music. There were, to be fair, some lasting musical memories for me from those three days of madness at Woodstock ’99. They included seeing James Brown for the first and only time as he opened the festival with one of his legendary high-energy sets and the undeniable bounce of DMX’s career-peak sunset performance — one of the first, and blessedly last, times I witnessed more than 100,000 white fans yelling the n-word at the top of their lungs with zero chill. Then there was the Twilight Zone-like experience of hanging with one of my musical north stars, an exhausted George Clinton, at the Rome airport the day after, as we commiserated on what the intergalactic funk legend said was the “definitely weirdest” experience he’d ever had. (Consider that for a minute.)
“I think the bad things that happened happened and I’m not here to deny that,” Scher say of the fest’s overall grim legacy. “But once you get past the sensationalism from the press, the overwhelming majority of people had a great time… I’m proud of the lineup and music, but I’m certainly not proud of the problems that happened.”
The lessons learned from W99 were harsh, and a few of the complaints from those times persist. Yes, some of the most popular contemporary American festivals have fallen prey to the rampant commercialization, corporate signage-overload and pricey VIP experience traps that leave some fans with an icky taste in their mouths.
But, thankfully, things have gotten better and festival promoters have gone to even greater lengths to ensure safety and security, even as ticket prices have climbed into the stratosphere for many major fests. At the very least, never again have I walked through the grounds of a major festival and typed the phrase I distinctly recall SMS’ing to one of my editors as the weekend devolved into madness: “This seems bad. Like, really bad.”
Stories about sexual assault allegations can be traumatizing for survivors of sexual assault. If you or anyone you know needs support, you can reach out to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN). The organization provides free, confidential support to sexual assault victims. Call RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Hotline (800.656.HOPE) or visit the anti-sexual violence organization’s website for more information.
If you see Train perform live, odds are the last song is going to be “Drops of Jupiter,” the hit single from the band’s 2001 album of the same name.
“When people hear it, it becomes sad because they know that that’s the end [of the show],” singer Pat Monahan tells Billboard‘s Behind the Setlist podcast. “But we’re not gonna play something after that song. That song means the world to me for a lot of personal reasons, and it was a big song around the world.”
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Indeed, “Drops of Jupiter,” which Monahan wrote about his late mother, reached No. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 2001 — the band’s second-best chart performance behind “Hey Soul Sister,” which went to No. 3 in 2010.
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On Train’s current tour with REO Speedwagon, fans are likely to hear familiar songs rather than deep cuts. Monahan explains the band occasionally opened with “We Were Made for This” from the 2012 album California 37 on its recent European tour. It wasn’t released as a single, nor does it have the upbeat energy bands typically want to launch a concert. Rather, “We Were Made for This” starts out slowly and kicks into high gear about two minutes into the song with a soaring guitar solo by Taylor Locke. The momentum subsides again before the band brings the song to an energetic climax.
“The Train fans loved it,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s right for a tour with REO Speedwagon, you know. Because when they step off stage, people will have heard 35 hit songs.”
In most of Train’s July shows throughout the Midwest, Monahan and his four bandmates — Locke, bass player Hector Maldonado, drummer Matt Musty and guitarist/keyboardist Jerry Becker — have been opening with “Calling All Angels,” the leadoff track from the 2003 album My Private Nation. It’s a well known song for sure — “Calling All Angeles” reached No. 19 on the Hot 100. “I’ve grown to think that a first song should be recognizable [and] high energy, but not your biggest song,” he says, “that you don’t want to burn the biggest ones at the top because I think people are still taking you in.”
The middle of the set slows the pace. “Marry Me” from 2009’s Save Me, San Francisco, lets the audience know “I have a band with amazing singers,” says Monahan. “Bruises” is a “country rock” song that fits well into the concert’s acoustic interlude. Train will frequently play Teddy Swims’ “Lose Control,” which Monahan says is “a great transition” song that bridges the middle and latter part of the set that includes “Hey Soul Sister,” “Drive By,” a top 10 Hot 100 hit from 2012, and “Drops of Jupiter.”
When picking from Train’s vast catalog, Monahan thinks like a fan. He recalls a tour with Ben Folds Five, which had a hit in 1997 with the song “Brick.” “They’re a great band,” says Monahan, “but they avoided playing ‘Brick,’ because when they played ‘Brick,’ which was their hit, their fans got disappointed. And when they didn’t play ‘Brick,’ I got disappointed. I grew up wanting to sing along to the bands I loved, and so I don’t want to take that from Train fans.”
Listen to the entire interview with Pat Monahan in the embedded Spotify player below, or go to Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, iHeart or Everand.
On the first day of filming, the tone for Blur’s new documentary film To The End was set. Having gathered the band in his Devon, England, recording studio, frontman and lyricist Damon Albarn was in a flood of tears as an early version of their ninth studio album, The Ballad of Darren, played through the speakers. It was the first time that he and the band heard the songs recorded with vocals, and it makes for a brutal, heart-wrenching scene.
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Speaking to Billboard, guitarist Graham Coxon reflects on the moment. “It’s all very well sitting down and writing lyrics, but when they’ve been recorded and listened back to [that can be] extremely powerful,” he says. “The song suddenly exists in a sometimes overwhelming way.”
To The End, which hits theaters in the U.K. and Ireland on July 19, captures the band in a reflective, tender mood, and follows the journey through the recording and the lead-up to the Britpop icons’ two triumphant shows at London’s Wembley Stadium in July 2023. Directed by Toby L (whose previous collaborators include Olivia Rodrigo and Liam Gallagher), To The End is a portrayal of loss and the maturing friendship between Albarn, Coxon, Alex James (bass) and Dave Rowntree (drums). The bluster of the group’s outsized, colorful ‘90s persona – a gilded cage, they note in the film – is gone, focusing on rather hushed reflection and contemplation.
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“There are a lot of artists that may not want that vulnerability to be captured,” director Toby L tells Billboard in a separate conversation. “I think the current state of music documentaries are a bit cynical – I don’t necessarily believe them that much. But the band agreed that we wanted to show the unvarnished truth, and we vehemently agreed that this shouldn’t be a puff-piece film.”
After the announcement of two 75,000-capacity shows at Wembley Stadium, Albarn sent Coxon a few demos he’d been working on and corralled the band into the studio in early 2023. Much of The Ballad of Darren is informed by the breakdown of Albarn’s relationship with Suzi Winstanley, his partner of 25 years. The title track’s opening lyrics get to the heart of the matter: “I just looked into my life/And all I saw was that you’re not coming back”.
Recording provided a reunion, however. The sessions were the first time that all four members had been in the studio to work on Blur music since 1999’s 13. Their 2003 album Think Tank was recorded following Coxon’s departure from the group; 2015’s The Magic Whip was pieced together by Coxon and Albarn from past demos. Produced by James Ford [Arctic Monkeys, Depeche Mode, Haim], “The Ballad Of Darren” reached No. 1 on the U.K. Albums Chart and earned the band their first-ever top 10 appearance on Billboard’s Top Album Sales chart. They also hit No. 2 on Billboard‘s Adult Alternative Airplay chart with lead single “The Narcissist.”
Coxon – who has known Albarn since they were schoolmates in Colchester, Essex – says the band “very easily fell into their old roles” when they entered the studio. But where 2010 documentary film No Distance Left To Run picked at old wounds during the group’s demise, To The End is happy to leave the scars as they are. To reconnect, Albarn and James go for a dip in the freezing English coast, and during individual interviews the group acknowledges their deep love of one another even if that doesn’t always appear evident. In one scene, Albarn notes that in the past, they wanted to solve any problems “there and then,” but with time they’re “happy to let it disperse” and avoid needless confrontation.
“We just care a little bit less about what the other might think of us,” Coxon says today. “We have a very old-fashioned relationship in that way – sometimes it’s easier to not talk about emotional stuff, but we know that being in each other’s presence is a support of sorts.”
There’s a jovial camaraderie on the road to Wembley Stadium, showcased through electrifying footage of the regional warm-up gigs in the U.K. and in mainland Europe. Jeopardy only arrived when Rowntree picked up a knee injury in the week prior to the Wembley shows. Spoiler: he made it.
The two concerts are recorded in spectacular fashion, and will be released as a live album, Live At Wembley Stadium, on July 26, alongside a standalone concert film later this year. “They were both so good,” Coxon remembers. “It was shocking. It was a very out of body experience.” Any thoughts when you watched them back? “I wish I looked cooler. I looked a bit pained and tired,” he laughs.
For all the focus on middle-aged malaise, some of the most heartening footage is of the young, diverse crowd that flock to the front row of these shows. Toby L says that though Britpop and ‘90s optimism is long gone, British teens still reach for their music. “The themes that Damon sang about then – particularly that frustration at British culture and also the satire of the human condition – are still timely,” he says.
That affinity doesn’t necessarily always travel. Albarn drew attention to that during Blur’s set in front of a lackluster Coachella crowd back in April: “You’ll never see us again so you may as well f—–g sing it.” Coxon plays it down though admits the California festival can be a “weird, hot show” and that “it felt a bit like ‘who are these old guys?’ Last year the audiences were fantastic all the way through. So I don’t mind a few glum faces in the audience now and then.”
Blur’s future, as it has been for much of the 21st century, is open-ended. “We always like to leave a good amount of time to live life, so if there is another thing to do with Blur we can bring new experiences to it. But it’s big: it’s a massive machine and it’s stressful, so I’m alright with a few years off.” As To The End proves, they will be there for each other through thick and thin.
Deep Purple has had ample opportunities to hush itself, if you will, over the years.
The London-formed hard rock troupe has gone through the kinds of lineup changes during its 46 years that would have debilitated most bands. With Irish guitarist Simon McBride joining in two years ago to replace Steve Morse after an 18-year tenure, the Purple gang is on its Mark IXth lineup. Only drummer Ian Paice has been a fixture since 1968.
But bassist Roger Glover, who along with frontman Ian Glover was part of the famed Mark II — i.e. Machine Head and “Smoke on the Water” — says there was never a thought of consigning Purple to the past.
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“We can’t stop,” Glover tells Billboard via Zoom from his home in Switzerland. “We love what we do; that’s the bottom line. And we’ve had the opportunity to carry on. Most bands don’t get that opportunity…well, I don’t follow bands that much, but certainly for us that’s been the case.“I’m in my late ’70s (78) — we all are except for the new guitarist, who’s in his early forties. He’s infused the band with a lot of energy. We may have been lacking a little — but not much, I don’t think.”
Glover says it was Deep Purple’s live performances with McBride that sparked the idea to make =1, due out July 19. It’s Deep Purple’s 23rd studio album and the follow-up to 2021’s covers set Turning to Crime. McBride had been playing with Purple keyboardist Don Airey in his own band for a number of years, which Glover and frontman Ian Gillan had both performed with in recent years. “He seemed the only choice,” Glover says. “We didn’t even think about anyone else.
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“When Simon came in, the tour went very well,” Glover adds. “Early in the tour we said, ‘Hey, we should make an album as soon as we can.’ So that’s what we did last year.” Like its four predecessors, the 13-songs set was produced by Bob Ezrin, and the songs took shape via the band jamming together in Nashville rather than coming in with prepared material.
“That’s the way we work,” Glover explains. “It’s like a blank canvas when you go in the studio, all you’ve got to do is fill it with noises. The songs aren’t written; they evolve from personalities and ideas. Someone starts a riff or something and we’re like, ‘That’s good. How about if you go to an F here…or a B flat?’ Once we’ve got the instrumental part, then Ian Gillan and I figure out what’s going on top, the words and the tunes. Obviously, they don’t just appear for no reason. We work at it.”
Glover adds that the method has been a Deep Purple tradition since he and Gillan joined the band in 1969. “In the early days, before Deep Purple In Rock (1970), we realized that the music came from playing, not from the head, therefore we should share the credits and that’s what we did since the early days, shared everything, no matter who came up with the idea. It was freeing in a way — there’s no backbiting, no, ‘I like my idea better than yours,’ no jealousy. It was very healthy.”
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The approach only changed once, says Glover, who’s in the process of writing a memoir. “When we had the reunion (in 1984) it didn’t go back to that — maybe it couldn’t, you know?” he remembers. “But as soon as Steve Morse joined the band (in 1994), guess what? It went back to that, which was great. For a band like us, that’s the only way to work.”
The process continues to be a welcome kind of “challenge,” according to Glover, who points to =1 tracks such as the album-closing “Bleeding Obvious” as particularly challenging and requiring “a lot of work” to get right. Meanwhile the opening track, “Show Me,” had a particularly interesting gestation that sounds like a rock n’ roll warrior story that could have happened during the ’70s as much as the 2020s.
“We were all invited to Alice Cooper’s 75th birthday party with (Ezrin),” Glover recalls. “We finished early and Simon and Don (Airey) and I went to a bar and hit the tequila a bit too much and I fell over and really hurt my thumb. The next morning was the last day of writing sessions and my thumb was swollen all up and I couldn’t play anything. So I said, ‘Excuse me, lads, I have to get it checked out in a hospital or something,’ which I did. In the meantime, the idea of ‘Show Me’ had started, but it was later on when we worked it out. I couldn’t imagine what Ian would sing over that until I was in Portugal with him and he just attacked it and found the right tune and everything, and we had the song.”
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=1 has been preceded by three singles and videos, starting with “Portable Door” in April, “Pictures of You” during June and “Lazy Sod” at the beginning of July. =1‘s release takes the quintet back on the road next month in North America, joining fellow British veterans Yes, which was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame a year after Deep Purple. The 19-date co-bill begins Aug. 14 in Hollywood, Fla., and runs through Sept. 8 in Scranton, Pa.
“We worked with them years ago in the ’70s,” Glover says. “We did some festivals together — one in particular called the Plumpton Jazz and Blues Festival in ’71. Ian Gillan and I had only been in the band a couple of months at that point. There was an argument about who’d be closing the show, and they won the argument and were closing the show. Ritchie (Blackmore, Purple’s original guitarist) set fire to his amplifiers and made them explode on stage. So they were delayed a lot and weren’t very happy with that.”
But, Glover says, bygones are bygones and he expects nothing but friendly relations this summer. “We’ve met them since. They’re a great band. We saw (Yes guitarist) Steve Howe a couple years ago. We got on, no hard feelings. I don’t know which state they’re in now, which combination of musicians they have, so I’ll be happily surprised.”
Scott Stapp remembers feeling young and determined — an unknown singer, certain he wouldn’t be for long — when Creed started in the mid-’90s, more than half a lifetime ago. “We wanted to write timeless songs,” Stapp asserts to Billboard.
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Practicing with his new band members in Florida’s panhandle roughly 30 years ago, Stapp would discuss his outsized dreams in drummer Scott Phillips’ living room. “That was an actual goal,” Stop continues, leaning forward in his chair, “that the band would write things that would stand the test of time. It was a lofty goal! And I don’t think we ever knew, during our run, if we really accomplished that.”
Indeed, the general longevity of Creed’s biggest hits was something of a question mark for a while. In their turn-of-the-century heyday, Creed’s burly post-grunge anthems were everywhere, as Stapp, guitarist Mark Tremonti, Phillips and bassist Brian Marshall scored multiple top 10 smashes on the Hot 100 and sold millions of albums behind them. Chest-thumping sing-alongs like “Higher,” “With Arms Wide Open” and “My Sacrifice” earned prime MTV plays and crossed over to pop radio; for years, the quartet was undoubtedly one of the most bankable rock bands in the world.
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Then: a breakup, personal problems, haphazard reunion and prolonged hiatus. By the dawn of the streaming era in the early 2010s, post-grunge had receded from popular rock and Creed’s mainstream footprint had evaporated. Their biggest songs could have been shrugged off as relics of a bygone moment in music history — maybe, in spite of the towering initial success, they wouldn’t endure after all.
Yet as the four members of Creed sit together in midtown Manhattan on a Tuesday afternoon in June 2024, the mood is light, and the guys — all of whom have entered their fifties over the past year-plus — are clearly enjoying a sea change in how their catalog is being treated. They’re at the SiriusXM offices, prepping for an in-studio performance of songs like “Higher” and “My Sacrifice”; the day before, they played both hits on Good Morning America.
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Earlier that month, a mariachi band made the Internet rounds for covering “Higher” at Globe Life Field, the same stadium that was blasting the song throughout the Texas Rangers’ run to a World Series victory last fall. And of course, the latest viral moments follow the Super Bowl commercial in February, the SZA shout-out last November, and plenty of TikTok remixes in between.
As they pal around ahead of a SiriusXM showcase and crack jokes about too-early call times (their GMA soundcheck was at 5:30 AM), Marshall slips in that his five-year-old daughter was singing their 2002 power ballad “One Last Breath” that morning, albeit with some misplaced lyrics. Stapp adds that he’s noticed a lot of the social media championing and TikTok trends engineered by younger listeners — proof positive that, even as the nostalgia cycle plays a major factor in the band’s reunion and resurgence, his decades-old goal for Creed’s music to persist was ultimately accomplished.
“To see that happening for Creed, with a whole new generation of fans and listeners? It’s just… very rewarding,” Stapp says, his voice catching. “I mean, we’ve been through a lot, man — individually, as a band. I mean, this,” he continues, gesturing toward his band mates, “it’s just so emotional. Your eyes water. You tear up. You’re just grateful, because it really could have gone in another direction.”
Creed’s catalog has not just endured — now, there’s real demand to experience its full power live. The band’s 2024 North American reunion trek, which kicked off last night (July 17) in Green Bay, has turned into one of the hottest rock tickets of the year. A pair of Creed cruises got the reunion started in April, and after announcing a summer 2024 amphitheater run last October, Creed added 20 fall arena shows to their itinerary in February, citing “overwhelming fan demand.”
During a topsy-turvy year in the touring industry, with other arena tours being downgraded or canceled as the market readjusts following a post-pandemic boom, Creed’s team expects most of the band’s upcoming dates — including the band’s first headlining show at New York’s Madison Square Garden since 2000, set for Nov. 29 — to sell out, and is already eyeing opportunities for 2025.
“It’s a pretty unbelievable comeback, as comebacks go,” says Ken Fermaglich, the band’s longtime agent at UTA. “The consumers are out there and want to connect with the music, whether it’s on the nostalgia side for the fan that was aware of it from years ago, or the newer fan that’s never gotten to see them.”
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Although it’s been over a decade since Creed last toured together in 2012, plenty of rock fans remember their commercial apex, which began with singles like “My Own Prison,” “One” and “What’s This Life For” garnering airplay in the band’s local Tallahassee scene before debut album My Own Prison was scooped up by Wind-up Records in 1997 and spread across the nation. Commanding the post-grunge strain of popular rock that sprouted up from the alternative explosion of the mid-‘90s, Creed turned My Own Prison into a smash debut, with 6.5 million copies sold to date, according to Luminate. Their 1999 follow-up Human Clay turned even bigger singles — “Higher” was an uptempo anthem ripe for stadium halftime shows, and “With Arms Wide Open” actually topped the Hot 100 for a week in November 2000 — into RIAA-certified diamond status: a whopping 11.7 million copies sold.
When Creed became a mega-selling act, “We were kids, really — 24 or 25, as things went through the roof,” Marshall recalls. “Having to navigate that at that time in your life is really tough. And I turned to substances.”
Marshall departed the group due to substance abuse issues in 2000, and Stapp also struggled with personal issues, including depression and problems with self-medicating, in the following years. Creed’s third album, 2001’s Weathered, sold another 6.5 million copies, but a rocky tour in support of the album led to prolonged inactivity, then a 2004 breakup.
Creed reunited for 2009’s Full Circle, but the industry had changed, the hits had dried up and the mainstream had moved on. The album sold less than one-tenth the copies (455,000) of their previous three. By Creed’s 2012 tour, the arena shows were a distant memory, and theaters were filled only with the most diehard supporters. That run grossed $2.3 million and sold 49,000 tickets over 20 reported shows, according to Billboard Boxscore — compared to a $39.5 million gross and 932,000 tickets sold over 86 shows for their 2002 tour.
All four members stayed busy after Creed went back on hiatus after the 2012 tour: Stapp has released three solo albums since 2013, including this year’s Higher Power, while the other three members performed with singer Myles Kennedy in Alter Bridge, in addition to Tremonti leading his own band, Tremonti. Meanwhile, Marshall got sober in 2012, and Stapp’s well-documented road to recovery commenced in the mid-2010s. And while their other musical projects earned live followings, none of them scored hits of the stature of “Higher” or “With Wide Arms Open.” Plus, as Stapp puts it, “There’s a chemistry and synergy that we have when we play together — that only we have when we play together.”
According to Fermaglich, discussions of a Creed reunion began in 2021, when the touring industry was still working through COVID-related uncertainty. “The time wasn’t quite right yet,” he says, “but it got everybody talking, to a point of, ‘Oh, maybe this is a good idea.’”
Conversations picked up last year, and all four members concluded that 2024 would be a strong window for a reunion tour, in between side projects and personal commitments. Meanwhile, the band members came back in touch last fall during the Rangers’ World Series run, after the eventual champs had adopted “Higher” as their unofficial anthem at home games. “The four of us were on a text thread together, watching the game and cheering on the team, celebrating a win or lamenting a loss,” Phillips recalls. “It was a nice bond to have again, where it was just the four of us communicating with each other, reconnecting as friends — not only as band mates, but as people.”
The band tested the waters for ticket demand with the July 2023 announcement of the Summer of ’99 Cruise — setting sail in April 2024, featuring post-grunge contemporaries like 3 Doors Down, Tonic, Buckcherry and Fuel, and boasting a reunited Creed as the main draw. Tremonti was responsible for the Summer of ’99’ idea, and the band partnered with immersive festival producers Sixthman on the cruise, which Fermaglich says “sold out very, very fast. We started to realize, ‘Wow, there’s a lot of demand here,’” so they added a second cruise for the following week.
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Phillips felt the nerves return during Creed’s first performance in over a decade on the inaugural cruise — but after the first few songs, he witnessed how locked-in the crowd was, exhaled, and could “sit back and enjoy the moment,” he says. Tremonti chimes in that the energy provided by Stapp, who has circled in and out of the lives of the other members over the years, gave him the boost he needed during the band’s first performance back.
“The most nerve-racking thing about it was that you knew every cell phone in the boat is going to be out, filming those first few songs,” Tremonti says. “Those first performances are gonna live forever on YouTube! But Scott stepped on stage like this was just another day, confident as can be, which makes us go, ‘All right, we’re good.’”
When the amphitheater tour dates that would follow the cruises went on sale last fall, Fermaglich says that Creed’s team was “blown away by the initial sales,” and that the feedback received about ticket buyer demographics encouraged them to consider adding arena dates to follow the summer run. “Some of the ticketing data made us understand that younger ticket buyers were out there,” Fermaglich explains, “and that got everyone pretty pumped, because it meant that we were turning it over to some extent. We would have the fans who remembered the band from the late 90s and early 2000s, but also a new fan who is learning the catalog, potentially via social media.”
The current numbers back up that theory: radio stations, primarily at rock and alternative formats, are still playing Creed’s hits, with 31,000 plays of their songs on U.S. terrestrial and satellite radio over the first six months of 2024, according to Luminate. But over that same time period (Dec. 29, 2023 – June 27, 2024), the band’s catalog earned a robust 263 million official on-demand song streams, with the Spotify generation either returning to or uncovering Creed’s discography.
“They had big songs, and those records crossed over to pop radio,” says Brad Hardin, COO of national programming at iHeartMedia. “And when you see the show, it’s hit after hit after hit.” (Indeed, at last night’s tour opener at Green Bay’s Resch Center, the band rolled out all of their biggest songs, and often accompanied them with flame-spitting pyrotechnics.)
Creed’s 2024 return is a perfect storm of a touring proposition: longtime fans haven’t seen them live in over a decade, and the hits hold up well enough to attract new listeners. Although the bands that made up the macho-leaning post-grunge movement of a quarter-century ago made for a critical punching bag at the time, Creed’s wide-reaching sing-alongs “have aged in a way that we hoped they would back in the day,” says Fermaglich. “The production really stands the test of time, and the songs, the melodies, still work well right now, and don’t sound out of place with contemporary rock.”
With that in mind, Creed and their team are already mapping out a future following this year’s big reunion: The Summer of ’99 Cruise will return and set sail on Apr. 9, 2025, and beyond that, Fermaglich says the plan is “take a look at different opportunities that are out there.” Although nothing is yet confirmed, those possibilities could include international dates following this year’s focus on North American markets, and that could also mean more North American gigs — including festivals and “bigger shows in bigger buildings with other bands,” he says. “We’ll see! I think the short answer is, we’re open for business.”
Will the Creed revival eventually extend to new music, and potentially the band’s first album together in over 15 years? “We haven’t written anything or thrown anything out there, but I think it’s definitely something that’s on our minds,” says Stapp. Phillips points out that a lot of Creed’s early music resulted from soundcheck sessions — kernels of ideas that were drawn out by the quartet’s natural chemistry, then fashioned into global hits. Maybe that same connection can spring back to life all these years later.
Stapp nods in agreement. “We’ve always been a band that functions better just being in the moment, instead of making a decision and then having to force it,” he says. “Let’s just let it happen. That’ll be where the best material comes from.”
For now, the response to the band’s live return — watching one cruise turn into two, then amphitheater shows beget arena gigs — has been humbling for the members. “We were hopeful — but, you never know,” Phillips says of fan interest ahead of the reunion launch. Creed is thankful to be in a position where more shows need to be added, and venue sizes need to increase. It’s a professional moment that was never promised, and the band is savoring it.
“We’re sort of listening to the universe,” Phillips continues. “If you tell us ‘Don’t do it,’ we won’t do it. But everybody’s saying, ‘Go for it.’”
The 2024 Kennedy Center Honors will feature a mix of the psychedelic and the soulful with a touch of jazz. The John F. Kennedy Center For the Performing Arts announced the selections for this year’s 47th annual Kennedy Center Honors for lifetime artistic achievements on Thursday (July 18), a list that includes director Francis Ford Coppola (Apocalypse Now, The Godfather), jam godfathers the Grateful Dead, blues singer/guitarist Bonnie Raitt, jazz trumpeter/pianist/composer Arturo Sandoval and, in a first, The Apollo theater in Harlem in a special honor as an iconic American Institution.
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“The Kennedy Center Honors recognizes artists who have made an extraordinary impact on the cultural life of our nation and continue to have an immeasurable influence on new generations,” said Kennedy Center chairman David M. Rubenstein in a statement about the event that will take place in Washington, D.C. on December 8 and air on CBS (and later stream on Paramount+).
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Rubenstein continued, ““A brilliant and masterful storyteller with an unrelenting innovative spirit, Francis Ford Coppola’s films have become embedded in the very idea of American culture; a social and cultural phenomenon since 1965, the Grateful Dead’s music has never stopped being a true American original, while inspiring a fan culture like no other; Bonnie Raitt has made us love her again and again with her inimitable voice, slide guitar, and endless musical range encompassing blues, R&B, country rock, and folk; ‘an ambassador of both music and humanity,’Arturo Sandoval transcended literal borders coming from Cuba 30-plus years ago and today continues to bridge cultures with his intoxicating blend of Afro Cuban rhythms and modern jazz; and on its 90th anniversary, The Apollo, one of the most consequential, influential institutions in history, has elevated the voices of Black entertainment in New York City, nationally, and around the world, and launched the careers of legions of artists.”
The Kennedy Center Honors celebrates individuals whose unique contributions to American arts and culture at an event where the the honorees are seated in the box tier of the Kennedy Center Opera House while their peers pay homage with performances and tributes.
In a statement, Raitt said, “I am deeply honored and thrilled to have been chosen to receive one of this year’s Kennedy Center Honors. I have long been an admirer of the awards and have been so blessed to be able to participate in several shows honoring others. There is no higher level of esteem nor as delightful a celebration and I want to extend my sincere thanks to all who have chosen me to receive this honor. I look forward to the upcoming ceremony and festivities, which I know will be one of my life’s peak experiences.”
The Dead’s living members — Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzmann, Phil Lesh and Bobby Weir — were equally effusive in their excitement about receiving one of the nation’s highest artistic honors. “It goes without saying that the Kennedy Center Honors represents the highest of reaches for artistic achievement,” they wrote in a joint statement. “To be recognized alongside the artists who have in the past received this honor is beyond humbling. The Grateful Dead has always been about community, creativity, and exploration in music and presentation. We’ve always felt that the music we make embodies and imparts something beyond the notes and phrases being played — and that is something we are privileged to share with all who are drawn to what we do — so it also must be said that our music belongs as much to our fans, the Dead Heads, as it does to us. This honor, then, is as much theirs as ours.”
They continued, “From our earliest days in San Francisco and as far as our tours have taken us, it has been and still is an incredible ride. We’ve had the opportunity to play with many talented musicians, interact with many gifted people—and to be part of something much larger than ourselves. Our music has always been about exploration and breaking through or finding our way around barriers, not just musically but also in bringing people together. The energy, the love, the connection and sharing — once again, that’s what it’s all about. As we enter our 60th year of the Grateful Dead’s journey in 2025, we’re beyond grateful for this recognition and for the journey we are on together. This honor reminds us of all those moments and the people who helped us along the way. Thank you, Kennedy Center, and to all the folks who had a hand in bringing us here, for this incredible honor.”
Sandoval, too, said he was “profoundly humbled and deeply honored” to be selected as a recipient of the prestigious award. “This recognition is an extraordinary milestone in my career and a testament to the support and encouragement I have received from my family, friends, colleagues, and fans,” said Sandoval. “Throughout my journey, I have strived to create, perform, and inspire with passion and integrity. Being acknowledged by such an esteemed institution validates my efforts and motivates me to continue pushing the boundaries of my art. I am incredibly grateful to the Kennedy Center for this honor, and I look forward to contributing further to the vibrant cultural tapestry that the Center celebrates and nurtures. Thank you once again for this incredible honor.”
Michelle Ebanks, president/CEO of Harlem’s legendary Apollo — which over its long history has hosted everyone from Josephine Baker and Count Basie to James Brown, B.B. King, Bob Marley, Sam Cooke and Michael Jackson , among many others — also said her organization was elated by the first-time honor for an institution.
“We are thrilled to be the first organization honored in the history of the Kennedy Center Awards, emphasizing The Apollo’s impact on the past, present, and future of American culture and the performing arts,” Ebanks said. “From the longest-running talent show in America with Amateur Night at The Apollo, which launched the careers of icons like Ella Fitzgerald and Lauryn Hill, to performances from beloved legends like Smokey Robinson and Lil’ Kim and today’s biggest stars like Drake, The Apollo has always been a home for artists to create and a home for audiences to see incredible music and art from legendary artists.”
Last year’s honorees included Queen Latifah, Dionne Warwick, the Bee Gees’ Barry Gibb, comedian Billy Crystal and soprano Renée Fleming.
To learn more about this year’s honorees click here.
Foo Fighters had to cut their Wednesday night (July 17) show at Citi Field in New York short due to severe weather in the area. “We are so disappointed that we were unable to play our full set for tonight’s fantastic crowd at Citi Field,” the group wrote on X.
“But the safety of our fans, the crew and everyone working in the stadium comes first, so when it was determined that there was no safe way to continue the show in this dangerous weather, we had no choice but to call it a night.” According to fan clips on social media and setlist.fm, the band played 13 songs out of what is typically a 20+ song set, warning fans about the incoming weather before “Learn To Fly” and then bailing after the intro to “Everlong.”
During the talk-up intro to “Learn to Fly,” singer/guitarist Dave Grohl took a moment to address the crowd, telling them, “there’s some lightning and s–t like that,” before promising that the band will play “as much as we can until someone says it’s not safe for you.”
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In another video on X, Grohl can be heard asking the capacity crowd if the band should play “one more” song, before deciding, “all right, here’s what we’er gonna do. We’re gonna do one more. That’s it. We’re gonna do one more, we’re gonna wait this f–kin’ s–t out… if we can come back you f–kin’ know we will, right?” The band then launched into the instantly recognizable strummy intro to their 1997 The Colour and the Shape anthem “Everlong” as fans shouted with glee before Grohl was forced to call it a day.
Citi Field posted a message to X at 10:30 p.m. announcing, “unfortunately due to the continued presence of lightning in the area, tonight’s show has concluded. Please exit the venue and have a safe night.”
In their statement, the band added, “We’re grateful for every second we were able to play for you and looking forward to seeing you again — maybe as soon as Friday!” The foos are slated to play Citi Field again on Friday (July 19). Their Everything or Nothing At All tour will then continue to Boston’s Fenway Park on Sunday (July 21), Hersheypark Stadium in Hershey, PA on July 23 and Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati, OH on July 25.
See the Foo Fighters’ statement and watch the “Everlong” intro bit below.
Dave Grohl and @foofighters were absolutely ON FIRE AND ROCKING @CitiField tonight until a crazy storm came passing through, having to cut the show short. They handled the situation so cool and so professionally, As disappointing as it was to have a shortened show, nothing but… pic.twitter.com/Qd1GeTXwZ0— Spring-Nuts (@SpringNuts_) July 18, 2024
Just months after his shocking death at 61, legendary producer/engineer/band leader Steve Albini will be honored with a global celebration of his noisy legacy. Touch and Go Records announced on Thursday (July 18) that it is turning what would have been Albini’s 62nd birthday on Monday (July 22) into a chance to share memories about […]
By the mid 1990s, touring festivals were big business in the U.S. Encouraged by the success of the pioneering Lollapalooza, new names like Blues Traveler’s jam-oriented H.O.R.D.E. Festival and Kevin Lyman’s punk-focused Warped Tour became major players in the summer live music landscape.
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But no festival served to both bolster and encapsulate a scene as wholly and perfectly as Ozzfest, the heavy metal juggernaut that slashed its way across America – and, in time, much of the world – from 1996 to 2018. Conceived by Sharon Osbourne, manager and wife of Ozzy Osbourne, as something of a middle finger to Lollapalooza, Ozzfest quickly defined itself as much more than mere payback. Rather, it was a roving nerve center for the multi-generational metal faithful, as well as a breeding ground and sometimes kingmaker for a wave of new (or, as some would label them, “nu”) metal superstars. “Anybody who was anybody played,” says Slipknot percussionist Shawn “Clown” Crahan. “Socially, culturally, it was the place to be.”
The cred was built in from day one: Sharon and Ozzy were metal royalty, and for the two inaugural Ozzfest dates in 1996, and most tours thereafter, Ozzy served as main stage (and, occasionally, second stage) headliner. The following year, Sharon engineered a Black Sabbath reunion – at that time, a Halley’s Comet-like event – as the main attraction. For metal fans, Ozzfest was a can’t-miss affair; for bands, especially newer ones, a slot on the bill was akin to being anointed. “The value that Sharon brought to the entire industry with Ozzfest can’t be amplified enough,” says Judas Priest singer Rob Halford.
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Ozzfest staged its final show, a one-off, in 2018, and its days as a touring concern ended years earlier. But its impact is still apparent today, whether in the success of gold- and platinum-selling, arena-dwelling metal bands – Slipknot, Disturbed, System of a Down and Lamb of God among them – that cut their teeth on the tour, or in the many metal-focused festivals and cruises, from Slipknot’s Knotfest to Lamb of God’s Headbangers Boat to 2023’s Power Trip extravaganza at the Coachella site, that emerged in its wake. Whether the tour will one day be resurrected, as is occasionally rumored, remains to be seen. Until then, here is the story of Ozzfest, as told by Ozzy, Sharon and many of the principals and players who were there.
In 1996, Ozzfest is born.
Rob Halford (singer, Judas Priest): Sharon was the first person to put together a touring festival of this magnitude for heavy metal. And what she created was opportunity – not only for new metal bands, but for all types of metal bands. All dimensions of metal were being displayed, from classic metal like Priest and Sabbath to nu metal, death metal, black metal… every kind of metal experience was shown from those stages.
Dale “Opie” Skjerseth (production manager, Ozzfest): There was Lollapalooza at the time, and there were a few other festivals. But this was a fully heavy metal fest. I’d never seen anything like that.
Sharon Osbourne (manager; cofounder, Ozzfest): So what happened was, in 1996 I said to my agents for Ozzy, “Ozzy should be on Lollapalooza.” They went and asked, and the response was, “Ozzy’s not relevant.”
Ozzy Osbourne (artist; cofounder, Ozzfest): They said, “Ozzy is a dinosaur.” Sharon got pissed off about that.
Sharon Osbourne: I said, basically, “F–k you – I’ll show you how relevant he is!” I was so furious at the way they disrespected him as an artist.
Ozzy Osbourne: “You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna do the Ozzfest.” I thought she’d f–king gone nuts.
Jane Holman (promotor liaison, Ozzfest): The prototype for the touring Ozzfest was in 1996, and it was just two shows – Arizona [at the Blockbuster Desert Sky Pavilion in Phoenix] and Southern California [at the Blockbuster Pavilion in San Bernardino, Calif.]. I had just moved to Los Angeles from Houston to work with John Meglen on creating PACE Touring, and we all went to the Ozzfest in San Bernardino and said, “Ooh, this is cool.”
The seven-band main stage bill that year was headlined by Ozzy Osbourne, with direct support from metal heavyweights Slayer and Danzig. A smaller second stage featured newcomers and cult acts like hardcore unit Earth Crisis, industrial-metal combo Fear Factory and L.A. “spookycore” troupe Coal Chamber.
Dez Fafara (singer, Coal Chamber, DevilDriver): In San Bernardino, Coal Chamber played the second stage – basically a makeshift thing in the center of a field, maybe 11:00 in the morning. But I looked to the left of me, and there was Sharon Osbourne. When I got offstage, she said, “Hey, when you cool off I wanna have a conversation with you.” Which of course made me a little nervous. But we talked and she said, “I’d love to manage you, and I’d love to put you on the rest of these Ozzfests. We’re gonna be moving this thing around the country next year.” I was a street kid from L.A., living with my whole band in a tiny studio. It changed my life.
Holman: I talked with Sharon after that show and she expressed an interest in making Ozzfest a touring property. So we launched in 1997 and just cruised for the next five, six years, 10 years.
Sharon Osbourne: I was like, “I believe in it, let’s go for it.”
Holman: We were pretty sold that it was going to work. And we liked the idea of staying true to metal. At that time Lollapalooza was kind of all over the board as far as genres go. But we said, “We are metal.” We stuck to that theme and the lifestyle around it.
Sharon Osbourne: In the U.K. and Europe all the festivals were very mix-and-match. I mean, Black Sabbath played with Rod Stewart. We loved that, but we wanted one genre. We wanted to do a heavy metal/hard rock tour.
Halford: The enthusiasm was just ginormous in ’96. And you’ve got to remember, this is in the advent of the internet days, so people are still looking at Metal Maniacs and all these magazines for information and listening to the ever-important radio for news about this thing called Ozzfest. Ozzy and Sharon have put it together, and there’s all these bands and… Ozzy’s going to play, too! And the kids were going, “We want this.” Because it was an experience. And it was not happening anywhere else.
Shawn “Clown” Crahan (percussionist, background vocalist, Slipknot): Slipknot was just starting out, and after practices we would watch that little VHS video tape they put out of the first year [The Ozzfest: Live] that had Earth Crisis, Coal Chamber, Neurosis, Slayer, a bunch of the bands. We’re practicing, practicing, practicing, we’re watching the tape over and over and over, just dreaming: “Wouldn’t it be cool if one day we could be accepted, and people liked us? We could be on this festival, we could play, and then, you know, go watch Earth Crisis!”
Fafara: I remember sitting on the bus that night after the San Bernardino show and having a conversation with my guitar player, Miguel, saying, “If this festival happens next year, it’s gonna be massive. And it’s gonna move heaven and earth for a lot of heavy metal bands that get the chance to be on it.”
Ozzfest kicked off in earnest in 1997 and did it in grand fashion. The tour’s first year as a moving festival boasted a co-headlining package of monumental proportions: Ozzy performing a solo set, followed by the long-awaited reunion of the original Black Sabbath (albeit with Faith No More and Osbourne solo band drummer Mike Bordin in place of Sabbath’s Bill Ward, who was not invited to participate). The remainder of the main stage lineup was star-packed, highlighted by Marilyn Manson, then in full Antichrist Superstar mode (at the time, Manson and his band were labeled “the sickest group ever promoted by a mainstream record company” by then Connecticut senator Joe Lieberman, and were routinely picketed by Christian groups at venues), Pantera and Type O Negative.
Holman: We launched with Black Sabbath in 1997, and that gave it a little bit more of a push.
Sharon Osbourne: There were still a lot of personal feelings between everybody in the band. It gets to that silly level where you start nitpicking at each other, but I was ready for that. The guys met a few times, sorted it out, and it was great.
Randy Blythe (singer, Lamb of God): It made sense to have them there because they’re the very first heavy metal band. And I’ll fight anybody that wants to argue with me about it.
Skjerseth: It was a huge deal having Sabbath there. It was important to everybody. And it was the beginning of them reuniting for a few Ozzfests over the years, eventually with Bill Ward again. Every single one of those bands had such respect for those guys.
Blythe: We’re all just like a bunch of younger moons orbiting around the planet of Black Sabbath.
On the day of the June 17 show at the Polaris Amphitheater in Columbus, Ohio, Osbourne lost his voice. Following Marilyn Manson’s set, an announcement was made that neither Black Sabbath nor Ozzy would be performing that evening, resulting in a riot at the venue.
Ozzy Osbourne: When you go on the road and you’ve gotta do two sets, it’s too much. It’s all right for a couple of shows, but that was too much for me. I took on more than I could deal with.
Holman: We knew early in the afternoon that Ozzy wasn’t feeling well, and that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to the show. But we got through Manson, and then we had to make the announcement: “We’re sorry. Ozzy’s not well. He’s not going to appear.” Pantera came out with guys from a couple of the other bands and they did some Ozzy songs, which was great. But these were people that had been out there all day, jazzed up to see Black Sabbath. The sh-t hit the fan.
Sharon Osbourne: There was chaos at the venue. We were stuck on a plane on the runway, trying to get a doctor for Ozzy, and I was getting all this information on the phone. It was like, “Oh my god, what do we do?” It was not good.
Skjerseth: The crowd went bananas. Tore the grass up and threw it at us, giant mud fights and bonfires out in the field…
Holman: The box office manager was hiding in the safe, as I recall. Because it was a lot of destruction. And that stuff builds on itself. There was a bomb scare. They ripped the air conditioner unit off the box office building. Destroyed a display car on the plaza. It was scary.
Skjerseth: Well, I worked for Guns N’ Roses before that, so honestly not much scared me anymore.
Over the next few years Ozzfest continued to stack the festival’s main stage with metal’s biggest names: Tool, Megadeth, Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, and return trips for Ozzy, Sabbath, Pantera, Slayer and others. But for many fans, the main attraction was the up-and-comers raising hell on the much smaller, often much wilder, second stage.
Ozzy Osbourne: I know what it’s like to start a band off. When Sabbath started, we couldn’t get a gig in f–king hell. So Sharon says, “We’re gonna have two stages, and we’re gonna have big bands, and also new bands.” Which is a great idea.
Sharon Osbourne: In a way that second stage was more important to us, because to give new bands the opportunity of playing in front of a large audience is an amazing thing to do. You want to pass the torch from one to another.
Fafara: Instead of spending four years in the trenches, traveling from town to town in a van and opening up shows in clubs, you could get out and play in front of so many more people and elevate your career with a quickness.
Shawn Crahan of Slipknot performing at Ozzfest in 2001.
J. Shearer/WireImage)
Ozzy Osbourne: I remember when Slipknot broke through. It was f–king great.
Mick Thomson (guitarist, Slipknot): Ozzfest in ’99 was our first-ever tour. Our first record didn’t even come out until halfway through it. If I was the one running things, I would’ve been like, “Hey, your record’s not out yet? Get f–ked!” Thankfully I wasn’t in charge of band selection that day.
Crahan: Slipknot, we owe the Osbournes a lot. They launched us. Because we were nothing. So we had to go out there and prove it. But the thing with us is when we’re together and we’re onstage, it’s us against everybody. Six songs, 25 minutes, we went hard that summer.
Fafara: I mean, it’s nine guys in masks. Like, what are you gonna do? I’m a huge KISS fan – I grew up in the KISS Army. And that generation’s KISS is f–king Slipknot, you know?
David Draiman (singer, Disturbed): We opened the side stage on the very first day of Ozzfest 2000. Way the hell early. There was, literally, 20, 30 people in front of us when we first got up there. By the time the set was done, there were about four or 5,000. It was a very surreal moment. Like, “This is the stage you wanted to be on. Now you’ve gotta show them why you belong up here.”
Skjerseth: We’d be ready for a band to start playing on the second stage at eight o’clock in the morning. And changeovers between bands were one to two minutes. The last three bands would be the headliners, and then the other second stage acts would rotate. So somebody different would get that sh-t slot at eight, 8:20 a.m. or whatever.
Holman: I think that most often those rotating bands were paid. But they weren’t paid a heck of a lot. It was exposure. Some were supported by their record company, because you could still actually get record company money back then.
Sharon Osbourne: When you’re doing a festival, there’s press from all over the world at every gig. So if the record company wanted to pay, it was like, “We’ll take it.” But we would only book a band if we liked them. I wouldn’t put on a sh-t band just to take the money.
Ozzy Osbourne: Everybody thought we were making millions of dollars off it, which we weren’t.
Blythe: For us it was just huge crowds at the second stage. We had our fans that came, but then we were also getting a lot of exposure to old-school Black Sabbath fans. Judas Priest fans. Slayer fans. Because all those bands were on the bill, too. It was a real expansion of our base. I can’t even count how many times over the years I’ve heard, “I saw Lamb of God for the first time on Ozzfest ‘04 and instantly became a fan.”
Skjerseth: There was structure on the second stage, but we had to go out there and police it a few times because it got kind of… it became the Wild West.
Draiman: A pavilion has seats, and that has sort of an anesthetizing effect on a crowd. A side stage is not the same environment. You have to move the mass of bodies that are all up against one another. It’s a different type of energy that’s required.
Blythe: We just caused massive, massive amounts of chaos on that ’04 tour when we played. It was a take-no-prisoners, f–k everyone sort of vibe. But in a friendly sense, of course.
Crahan: Slipknot were playing Spokane, Washington, the Gorge [Amphitheatre], and I cut my head open onstage. I cut it on a mic stand – it’s a long story. I was totally unconscious, and they pulled me down the ramp and tried to take me away in an ambulance. I was like, “Hold on, I wanna watch the rest of ‘Wait and Bleed.’ ” And I just kept telling the ambulance people, “Look at that band!” I’m watching my band play, and they’re f–king out of control. They didn’t even know I was gone!
Sharon Osbourne: The adrenaline with that band, on that stage… they would bash into each other, it was wild. I’m going, “Oh god, one of these guys is going to get really badly hurt.”
Crahan: I went to the hospital and got stitches in my eyes. And when I got back I was told I had to go talk to Sharon. I was so scared. I got there and she just reprimanded me… the way that I needed to be reprimanded, honestly. I needed someone to remind me of my responsibilities. It was something to the effect of, “I’m not your mother, and I’m not gonna be your mother. You need chill the f–k out.”
Blythe: I developed a bit of a relationship with Sharon because I would get called to the office for whatever misbehaving I had done. Like, we weren’t supposed to stage dive because of insurance and all that, so that didn’t go over well. So I would get scolded. But it was always a little bit of a “You’re a naughty boy” kind of vibe. Like, “You shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s pretty funny.”
Sharon Osbourne: It was like going to the head mistress.
Skjerseth: We had people hijacking golf carts and driving them through the audience, all that kind of stuff.
Blythe: I don’t know if anybody knows how easy it is to steal a golf cart. You ruin the ignition jamming a screwdriver in there, but we were always stealing golf carts and rolling them and destroying them. Me and [late Slipknot bassist] Paul Gray, rest in peace, stole quite a few golf carts together and went on adventures. I remember one time at Isleta Amphitheater [formerly Journal Pavilion] in New Mexico, we rolled one of those things down a hill with, like, 10 or 12 people hanging off the side. I’m surprised nobody broke their neck, man.
Draiman: We’d have races, we’d go down hills with them. We’d do things that we really were not supposed to do with them by any sense of safety or decorum or anything else. It was nuts. But we were young and it was celebratory and we were all in our time.
Blythe: The second stage, we were all just a bunch of savage animals basically. It was a separate world. But there was a real feeling of community. I made lifelong friends.
Fafara: That was the first place I ever met Randy. He was hilarious. He used to walk around with a bottle of whiskey and a whip in his hand, whipping everything in the air. People would go in the porta potties he’d be whipping the porta potties. And I just remember going, “What the f–k has this guy got this whip for?”
Ozzy Osbourne: The spirit of the Ozzfest backstage was like a f–king campout.
Fafara: What was going on backstage and the that was going on in tour buses, you couldn’t do that now. People would go to court, to jail. It was insane both in its excess and its debauchery.
As much as the stacked Ozzfest lineups excited fans, the bills were similarly thrilling for the acts playing the shows. Bands could watch one another perform, and sometimes even play together, and younger musicians often got to meet their heroes for the first time.
Draiman: The Pantera guys were a huge part of teaching us the ropes on Ozzfest. [Drummer] Vinnie [Paul] and Dime [guitarist “Dimebag” Darrell], may they both rest in peace, were huge fans. When we were on the main stage [in 2003] they came out and played with us. We used to make that a tradition. They were a huge part of what made us fall in love with Ozzfest, you know, other than Ozzy himself, of course.
Maynard James Keenan (singer, Tool): Ozzy, I mean, that’s why I was there.
Draiman: I would always go watch Ozzy. I would always go watch Pantera. That first year I would watch Kittie. There were so many great bands, and I have no problem being the spectator. I love being the spectator. It inspires me. Watching other bands throw down, it made you want to play harder.
Crahan: I got to watch Bill Ward play, bro! And then everybody under Sabbath – Slayer, Rob Zombie, Deftones supporting White Pony, just one act after another.
Fafara: I remember catering was the most fun thing in the world on those tours. Because everybody was in catering. And I was wide-eyed. That’s the first time I met [Pantera singer] Phil Anselmo. I’d be having a conversation with Rob Halford. Or Ozzy’s sitting there – “Dez, come sit down!” It’s like, “Holy f–k – I’m eating with Ozzy!”
Crahan: All your peers were there. I would go watch everybody, and just sit and learn.
Draiman: You get up there and you’ve got, you know, members of Slipknot or Manson or whoever watching from both sides of the stage… and over in Stage Left monitor world, there’s Ozzy himself! We all felt like the spotlight was on us and we did our best to rise to the occasion.
Crahan: Ozzy would come out once in a while when we were playing and lean over the monitor board and kind of wave at us.
Ozzy Osbourne: I would occasionally try and go watch the bands. Sometimes I was doing other things. But Slipknot, that was f–king so entertaining. Korn were f–king great as well. So were Tool. Rob Zombie. Judas Priest, great. Motörhead, of course. I miss Lemmy [Kilmister] every f–king day.
Keenan: We got the Melvins on the second stage [with Motörhead, in 1998]. I was excited to watch them really annoy the f–k out of people. They have so many amazing songs, but they were like, “You know what? We’re just gonna play that one-note song for 25 minutes today…”
Blythe: I remember sitting side stage once in California for Black Sabbath, and James Hetfield was there. I didn’t really know him then, but all I could think was, I’m right behind James Hetfield, looking at him looking at Bill Ward playing drums with Black Sabbath. This is incredible!
Mark Morton and Randy Blythe of Lamb of God at OZZFEST in 2004.
Mick Hutson/Redferns
In its first few summers, Ozzfest emerged as an immediate triumph. Its debut traveling outing in 1997 was that year’s second-highest grossing touring festival, behind the similarly new Lilith Fair. Taking stock of its run between 1996 and 2003, Billboard Boxscore reported that Ozzfest grossed $147.4 million and sold 3.8 million tickets over 237 dates. In time, Ozzfest shows were staged everywhere from the U.K. and mainland Europe to Israel and Japan.
Halford: The start of the 2000s, Ozzfest was just larger than life. It was the event that everybody looked forward to. Everybody was eager to find out, you know, “On this date, Sharon and Ozzy are going to let us know who’s gonna appear on the fest this year.” There was a tremendous, tremendous amounts of energy around it.
Holman: As I recall, 2000, 2001, that period, were the bonus years. I think we were either the highest or the second highest-grossing festival for a couple of those years.
Skjerseth: It was running very well. And in that time, what was the other one? Warped Tour was out there. And then there were a few others that were moving along. But Ozzfest was one of the biggest, because of what it was achieving and what we were making happen.
Fafara: Sharon knew it was a smart idea to put a on a heavy metal, that’s-all-that-we’re-playing-today festival. And that if she made sure that that genre had its comeuppance, and had its day in court, everybody would come. And surely everybody did.
As much as Ozzfest functioned as a showcase for burgeoning acts on the second stage, it was the festival’s ability to line up colossal metal legends next to one another on the main stage – sometimes for the first time ever – that made it an experience unlike any other for fans of the genre. One such bill came in 2004, when Ozzfest was headlined by a fully reunited Black Sabbath, with metal icons and fellow Birmingham, England, natives Judas Priest – also in the midst of an historic reunion moment, with the return of singer Rob Halford after an eleven-year absence – in direct support. (The main stage was rounded out by Slayer, Dimmu Borgir, Superjoint Ritual and Black Label Society.)
Halford: To get Priest and Sabbath, the originators of heavy metal, side by side? That was a really big deal.
Holman: I thought a highlight of the whole thing, maybe other people disagreed, was the show [on Aug. 26, in Camden, New Jersey] when Rob Halford came out and did all the Black Sabbath songs. Which was freaking awesome.
Halford: That was an extraordinary day. I got a call from Sharon at my hotel, saying, “Ozzy’s not feeling too well. I don’t think he’s going to be able to perform. Would you help out?” I said, “Yeah, any time. When do you want me to do it?” She goes, “Tonight.” This is, like, about five hours before showtime.
Sharon Osbourne: I knew that Rob wouldn’t let us down. First of all, the friendship goes back so many years.
Ozzy Osbourne: Priest, my mates.
Halford: Sharon said, “You can do it. You can do it.” So I asked her, “Can you quickly send me the show?” They couriered a VHS tape to the hotel, and on the way from the hotel to the venue I put the VHS on in the bus and just sang along with the Sabbath performance. When I got there, I did the pre-show, had a shower, and then went out and did the Sabbath gig 20 minutes later.
Holman: I mean, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I thought people should pay double for it.
Sharon Osbourne: It was fantastic for everybody involved, for the audience, for everyone there. Rob saved our ass, because we didn’t want to let the fans down.
Halford: I’ve made it known throughout my years as a metal singer that the two biggest bands in my life are Priest and Sabbath. There’s just an affinity between us. So it felt like not only the right thing for me to do, but the natural thing for me to do. And it was an absolute thrill.
The following summer, Ozzfest lined up another must-see British metal twosome: Black Sabbath headlining again, this time preceded by Iron Maiden. Unlike with Judas Priest, the pairing was not copacetic. Throughout the summer, reports surfaced of Maiden vocalist Bruce Dickinson taking public shots at Ozzy, including mocking him for appearing in a reality television show [the then-popular The Osbournes], and criticizing aspects of the tour itself.
Holman: Having Iron Maiden on Ozzfest, although it was good for ticket sales, probably wasn’t a very good idea. There had always been bad blood between Sabbath and Iron Maiden. And I’d rather not go into specifics on that. But I don’t think Sharon was crazy about having them there.
Sharon Osbourne: It was just the singer. The other guys in the band are great, great people. No problem at all. But when you’ve got a singer that is so eaten up with jealousy for the headliner, it never goes well.
Ozzy Osbourne: He would go on the stage and turn to the audience and say bad things. Be disrespectful. “I didn’t condone the f–king lights,” and all this. If you don’t want the gig, just say, “I don’t want the gig.” But it’s pretty f–king stupid if you accept the gig and all you do is complain about it.
Sharon Osbourne: I just kept saying, “Let him do it. Let him do it. He’ll get it.” And on the last day, he did.
Holman: It did not end well, on any level.
On Aug. 20 in San Bernardino, Iron Maiden’s final show of the tour, Sharon took revenge. During Maiden’s set, audience members began hurling eggs and other debris at the stage. Mid-set, frontman Dickinson responded: “You may have noticed a few wise asses that decided they would go down to the supermarket and buy a few f–king eggs and start throwing them at us down in the front. I guess they thought it would be funny. Well, this is an English f–king flag and these colors do not f–king run from you a–wipes!” Eventually the band’s power was cut.
Sharon Osbourne: I had been having cancer treatments, and all the nurses that I had met over my year in chemo came to the show and they said, “Can we do anything for you?” And I’m like, “Yes, you can.” I loaded them up with cans of bean soup, vegetables, eggs, and I said, “Pelt the singer.” And that’s what they did.
Crahan: Slipknot played that show. And I was very close to the front of the stage and saw it all start to happen. I saw people come out and I could feel something was going on. And I also felt, “There’s a lot of English stuff happening here.” It just felt very personal and very serious. I thought, I probably shouldn’t be here… So I got out of there.
Sharon Osbourne: It was like, “You wanna talk? You think you’re clever? Well, watch this – you’re gonna get covered in tomato soup in L.A.”
Blythe: Sharon is a no-nonsense lady.
Holman: I love Sharon to death. She’s absolutely great. But if I did anything that she didn’t like, I have no doubt that she would murder me.
Sharon Osbourne: I just thought, “You’re taking the money to be on this tour, and you’re disrespecting the namesake of the tour. You’re disrespecting him by knocking him every night to the fans.” I don’t like that. It’s not in the spirit of what we do.
Ozzy Osbourne: If you feel that bad about the tour, f–king leave!
In 2007, Ozzfest organizers took a radical approach to ticketing in an effort to keep excitement around the festival at a peak. That year, Ozzfest announced a first-of-its-kind “free” tour, dubbed “Freefest,” with tickets given away to fans.
Holman: Everything has a shelf life. Look at Lollapalooza, before it came back in the 2000s. Scenes change. Generations change. By 2007, we wanted to try something new. That’s when we thought, “Well, why don’t we make it a free show?”
Per a Live Nation press release from June 14, 2007: “More than 428,000 tickets in all were given away through LiveNation.com, marking the largest number of free tickets distributed in the United States in the history of the concert business. The tickets were completely free without surcharges of any kind.”
Sharon Osbourne: It had never been done. And you explain to me, it was free… and it didn’t sell out! Can you believe that? Because everybody was going, “Well, what’s the twist here?”
Fafara: I just said to myself, “How the hell are you gonna pay anybody?”
Blythe: We got paid.
Skjerseth: We were on a tight budget. But we adapted. You just had to work a little harder to make things right.
Holman: It was, “Let’s go out and get the most sponsors that we can,” things like that. But financially it was just one of those things. Because a lot of the tickets ended up going to scalpers, which… don’t get me started on scalpers.
Skjerseth: I didn’t feel that year was successful in the sense of, when you give something away for free, that’s all it is to people – free. You give something away, people are like, “Oh, it’s raining out, I’m not going.”
Fafara: It definitely worked. I mean, it was insane. [DevilDriver]’s merch numbers were crazy. Our show was amazing. And the Jägermeister tent was kicking hard.
Blythe: It was successful. I can’t remember the business of it, but I was like, “Whoa, I don’t know how they pulled it off.” And we were grateful to be there. God bless them for somehow pulling off the free Ozzfest. We had a good time.
In 2010, Ozzfest staged its final tour. In subsequent years, the Ozzfest brand came back for one-off shows: in Japan in 2013 and 2015, and in San Bernardino in 2016 and 2017, in tandem with the Slipknot-led Knotfest, for two-day events dubbed Ozzfest Meets Knotfest. A 2018 show on New Year’s Eve at the Forum in Inglewood, Calif. — headlined by Ozzy — currently stands as the last-ever Ozzfest show.
Skjerseth: The last year Ozzfest toured was the one with Mötley Crüe. After that they would do a show here and there. I was in and out. I did the Knotfest one, which was great. It was one night of Ozzfest and one night of Knotfest.
Ozzy Osbourne: Knotfest, we passed the torch on.
Crahan: When we were coming up with Knotfest, a lot of the embedded ideas obviously came from Ozzfest. Like, second stage, with a great band to headline it, other bands doing it, different things going on, all these nuts and bolts were all driven home by Ozzfest. And so when we did that joint thing, it made sense. I mean, that’s our lineage.
Holman: We did a 20-year reunion at the Ozzfest Meets Knotfest show in San Bernardino in 2016. We had a lot of the veterans from previous Ozzfests come out, which was great. Because you become a family. You’re getting together every year, like freak Thanksgiving.
Sharon Osbourne: I just remember the last Ozzfest we did [in 2018] was Ozzy’s very last show. He had two-and-a-half years of dates booked after that. Who knew that he would have a major accident that would end it all. Who knew? [In 2019, Osbourne suffered a fall at his Los Angeles home, aggravating injuries from an earlier ATV accident and requiring multiple surgeries.]
Halford: I hope that Sharon is thinking about bringing the Ozzfest back. Because people want to go to an Ozzfest experience. And what she did was generate an enormous amount of interest beyond the Ozzfest experience. She brought a lot of people to the table, and that’s often overlooked.
Fafara: She changed people’s worlds. I don’t think System of a Down, I don’t think Deftones, I don’t think Slipknot, I don’t think Cold Chamber, I don’t think DevilDriver would’ve been who we are without Sharon Osbourne coming up with the idea for the Ozzfest. I think everybody owes her a great debt. She’s a f–king shot caller and she gave me the shot. She gave me the shot twice.
Crahan: We did Ozzfest three times, did it differently all three times. And it was life-changing all three times.
Blythe: As far as the metal festivals here in America, they’re all kind of “Son of Ozzfest.” That was the first, and to my mind, so far, it’s the best.
Draiman: It was a proving ground. And it was an incubator for the next generation of headliners. The Osbournes created a community with this traveling circus of sorts, and it was an amazing idea.
Ozzy Osbourne: It must’ve been a good idea! Because everybody seems to be doing their own fests now.
Sharon Osbourne: There’s more and more every year. Isn’t it fantastic?
Blythe: I keep waiting for Sharon to resurrect it and bring us all back together one more time.
Halford: I’m sure if she did it, it would be successful.
Fafara: I think there’s so many bands right now that could benefit from it and that need a tour like that. So I’ll just say this now, and it isn’t just me being selfish: I would love nothing more than to have that festival come back. And if it does, put me on the main stage!
Ozzy Osbourne: I’d love it to happen again, yeah. Even if I couldn’t do a gig there myself.
Sharon Osbourne: We get asked about [Ozzfest returning] all the time. And I honestly don’t know. After Ozzy’s accident, I don’t look into the future much. I would love the name to carry on for my husband, but I can’t plan long term right now. I just live in the day.
Keenan: Credit to Sharon for putting it together and doing her best to manage the whole thing.
Sharon Osbourne: I just said, “Let’s just give it a shot,” you know? “I’ve got nothing to lose, let’s try and make it happen.” I went full steam ahead and I was going to have nothing stop me. I was just concerned about doing it and making a statement. And that’s what we did.