I AM OZZY By Ozzy Osbourne (with Chris Ayres) Grand Central Publishing. 416 pages. $26.99.   Buy I Am Ozzy here

Review by GREG MAKI

Ozzy Osbourne freely admits that the stories he relates in his autobiography, I Am Ozzy, are told to the best of his recollection, his memory eroded by decades of extreme substance abuse. Given the astronomical amount of booze and other drugs he spent the better part of his life ingesting, it’s almost beyond belief that he is still alive and in a condition to tell any stories.

I Am Ozzy is a wild, vulgar ride through Osbourne’s debauchery-filled life—a yarn overflowing with sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, with an extra emphasis on the drugs. It’s often hilarious, sometimes sad and even scary at certain points.

Osbourne is not exactly a wordsmith—it must have been quite a chore for ghostwriter Chris Ayres to edit and organize his ramblings into a book with a coherent narrative. There are obvious grammatical errors and enough four-letter words to make Zakk Wylde blush.

But that’s where it gets its charm. The tone is genial, conversational, as if you and Ozzy are having a drink together at the local pub (though presumably Osbourne’s drink today is alcohol-free).

Osbourne is world-famous for antics that include biting the head off of a live bat onstage, but, of course, he wasn’t always the “Prince of Darkness.” Once upon a time, he was John Osbourne, a boy growing up in working-class Aston, Birmingham, in England. He came from a family of modest means, one of six children.

It wasn’t until he reached middle age that he was diagnosed with dyslexia and attention deficit disorder, both of which help explain why he was such a poor student and a failure at the various jobs he tried after his schooling ended. He turned to burglary but wasn’t good at that either, earning himself a brief stint in Winson Green prison.

Osbourne emerged intent on avoiding any more time behind bars and, with a PA system paid for by his father, set his sights on becoming a rock ‘n’ roller. He found three likeminded lads—Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler and Bill Ward—and after trying their hand as a blues act (first as the Polka Tulk Blues Band, then as Earth), they went in a darker direction, writing songs about black magic and the devil. The band’s name became Black Sabbath, and heavy metal as we know it was born.

And then we’re off.

The book’s pace, like Osbourne’s life, is relentless, pulling us through Sabbath’s 1970s heyday; his first marriage; his solo career that took off in the 1980s; his courtship of Sharon Arden (known now, of course, as Sharon Osbourne); the births of his five children; legal troubles; health scares (including Sharon’s battle with cancer); and his family’s rise to iconic celebrity status due to the MTV reality show The Osbournes.

And, oh yeah, he was completely loaded the entire time.

Osbourne pulls no punches and expresses regret for not providing more for his parents after he became successful; hitting his first wife; and, maybe most of all, a drug-fueled assault of Sharon that landed him back in jail.

With so much of the focus of the personal side, the music gets slighted a bit. Of the many musicians Osbourne has worked with over the years, only his Black Sabbath band mates and the late, great guitarist Randy Rhoads figure prominently in the book.

I Am Ozzy provides more insight on the man behind the music than we’ve ever had before. Though he admits he always has played the clown, there is a lot more to Osbourne than the bumbling, stammering buffoon seen on MTV. Discovering who he is underneath makes for a great read.

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