Bostin Brass Band Reflects on Playing Ozzy Osbourne’s Memorial: ‘We Were Just a Conduit of This Emotion’…see more…
When the iconic Bostin Brass Band received the call to perform at the memorial service for the late Ozzy Osbourne, they knew they were being asked to take part in something extraordinary. For a group known for their spirited street performances and brassy reimaginings of rock classics, the opportunity to pay tribute to a heavy metal legend came as both an honor and a solemn responsibility.
“It wasn’t just another gig,” said bandleader Marcus Steele, his voice tinged with reverence. “It was Ozzy. A musical titan. We felt like we weren’t just playing music—we were channeling a nation’s grief.”
Held at Birmingham’s historic Symphony Hall earlier this month, the memorial drew in a sea of mourners—from long-time fans in band tees to industry veterans, rock stars, and Osbourne’s family. The Bostin Brass Band opened the proceedings with a slow, soul-stirring version of Black Sabbath’s “Changes,” transforming the hard-edged ballad into a soaring New Orleans-style dirge. The moment, they say, was electric.
“We played those first few notes, and the entire room just… quieted,” recalled saxophonist Lena Hughes. “You could feel people holding their breath. I think it hit them—Ozzy was really gone.”
Ozzy Osbourne, the Prince of Darkness and frontman of Black Sabbath, passed away in late June at the age of 76 after a prolonged battle with Parkinson’s disease and other health complications. The loss sent shockwaves through the music world, prompting an outpouring of tributes from fans, peers, and protégés alike. But in Birmingham, where Osbourne was born and raised, the mourning was deeply personal. And that’s why organizers turned to Bostin Brass.
“They represent the heart of Birmingham,” said event coordinator Geraldine Marsh. “Ozzy was always proud of his roots, and the Bostin Brass Band has this way of blending reverence with rebellion. Just like Ozzy.”
For the band, preparing the setlist was no small task. They wanted to honor Osbourne’s legacy without diluting his music’s raw power. Alongside “Changes,” they reworked “Iron Man,” “Mama, I’m Coming Home,” and even “Crazy Train,” using syncopated rhythms and bold harmonies to recast the classics in a reflective tone.
“We weren’t trying to copy Ozzy,” trumpeter Dan Holloway explained. “We were offering a new lens—something ceremonial but full of life. That’s how he lived.”
But the band’s emotional high point came during their rendition of “Dreamer,” a ballad that resonated with many in the audience. As the brass instruments swelled and the lyrics echoed across the hall—sung by a guest vocalist from Osbourne’s 1990s touring crew—tears were visible in every row.
“I looked up and saw Sharon Osbourne just quietly sobbing,” Hughes said. “I almost broke down myself, but I knew we had to keep going. We were the soundtrack to this goodbye.”
That night, social media lit up with clips and tributes. Fans praised the band’s soulful interpretations, calling them “the unexpected stars” of the memorial. Even Ozzy’s son Jack Osbourne took to Instagram, posting a short video with the caption: “Thank you, Bostin Brass. Dad would’ve loved this.”
In the weeks since the memorial, the band has received global attention. Bookings have surged. They’re in talks to release a live EP of the performance, with proceeds going to Parkinson’s research. But for Steele and his bandmates, the experience was more than a career milestone.
“We felt Ozzy’s spirit in that room,” Steele said. “He was never about perfection—he was about passion. That night, we were just a conduit of this emotion, and we gave everything we had.”
The memorial wasn’t the first time Bostin Brass reinterpreted rock legends, but the emotional intensity of this occasion set it apart. “Usually we’re all about energy and fun,” Holloway added. “This time, it was about presence—about showing up for a city and for a man who gave the world so much.”
Indeed, Birmingham remains proud of its native son. Murals of Osbourne have popped up around the city, and there are petitions for a public statue. Local pubs held tribute nights, and radio stations played his discography on loop. But many agree that the most moving homage came not through words, but through sound—brass tones rising like prayers for the fallen rocker.
“There’s something ancient about brass,” Hughes said. “It connects to celebration and mourning, to war and peace. In a way, it was the perfect vehicle to send Ozzy off.”
As for what’s next, the band says they’re staying grounded. “We’ve got a community concert next week in Digbeth,” Steele chuckled. “Back to our roots. That’s what Ozzy would’ve wanted—no ego, just music.”
Still, they’re aware of the weight of what they helped create.
“Ozzy Osbourne was more than a musician,” Steele concluded. “He was a symbol of survival, of staying true to yourself no matter what. If our music helped say that one last time, then we did our job.”
In the quiet after the final note rang out at the memorial, a hush settled over the crowd. Then, slowly, applause erupted—thunderous, unrelenting. It wasn’t just for the band. It was for Ozzy. For the memories. For the music that never dies.
And in that moment, the Bostin Brass Band stood not as performers, but as vessels of something much bigger. A farewell. A tribute. A la
st, brassy hymn for the Prince of Darkness.
