Hellfire In Birmingham: Black Sabbath’s Final Ride
This is the last ride of the warhorses. A final, defiant howl into the void before the darkness swallows them whole. Black Sabbath—originators, godfathers, the bedrock of heavy metal itself—are returning to the stage one last time, and this is no ordinary farewell. This is blood, fire, and history compressed into a single night at Villa Park, where the ghosts of a half-century’s worth of sonic warfare will rise in unison to bear witness.
My journey with Sabbath started in the shadows—quite literally. For my birthday, my cousin gave me a copy of Heaven and Hell, but thanks to my super Catholic mother’s covert operations, I didn’t find out about it until a year later, when I stumbled upon the record hidden behind a hamper in my parents’ closet. Skullduggery at its finest. No matter—I found them, and by the time I entered junior high, I was on board. At least with the hits. And once I stepped onto this train, there was no getting off. A one-way trip to heavy metal Valhalla.
I’ve seen them live a few times, watched Ozzy perform solo several more, and even sat in his own living room interviewing him alongside Jack Black and Kyle Gass for a feature in Metal Hammer. When Sabbath announced their reunion, supporting tour, and new album on November 11, 2011, I stood front and center at the Whisky-a-Go-Go. I asked the very first question of the press conference, stepping up like a proper broadsheet hack and introducing myself: “Joe Daly, Metal Hammer.” I asked Tony, “What are you most looking forward to about the reunion?” Revolver magazine, our rivals at the time, filmed the whole thing—and when they posted it on YouTube, they bleeped out the part where I said Metal Hammer. But I managed to find a fan video, wholly bereft of the petty insecurities of our former competitor. Below, at 15:45, behold the moment when I dared fly to the sun.
The announcement of Back to the Beginning hit like a hammer to the skull. July 5, 2025—Villa Park, Birmingham. Ozzy Osbourne, Tony Iommi, Geezer Butler, and—yes—Bill Ward, the prodigal son of thunder, reunited for a final bow. For years, Ward’s absence had been a spectral reminder of unfinished business, but now, the whole infernal machine is back in sync, and the world will get the ending it deserves.
Sharon Osbourne, never one to downplay a spectacle, has been feeding the flames. “It starts at noon, then you’re going to see one icon playing with another icon, doing a Sabbath song and one or two of their own songs, and people playing with each other that you never thought you’d see.” It’s the kind of thing that sounds like overhyped festival fluff until you see the roster. Metallica. Slayer. Gojira. Anthrax. Halestorm. Alice in Chains. Mastodon. And then the wild cards: Tom Morello as musical director, Danny Carey pounding the skins for a Sabbath jam with Billy Corgan. Slash and Duff McKagan running wild. Jonathan Davis in the mix. Even Fred Durst emerging from the shadows to bear witness. A grotesque and magnificent metal circus, orchestrated with the precision of a demolition crew.
Then there’s Ozzy, the battered but unbreakable Prince of Darkness. This isn’t just Sabbath’s farewell; this is his last stand, his final time under the lights. Parkinson’s has eroded his body, but the voice remains. “Ozzy didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to his friends, to his fans, and he feels there’s been no full stop,” Sharon admitted. “This is his full stop.” And what a stop it will be—one last solo set, followed by the moment that will etch itself into the annals of heavy metal forever: Black Sabbath, as they were meant to be, bringing it all to a close on the soil that birthed them.
The weight of history is unbearable here. Villa Park, Birmingham—home of Aston Villa, the football club Sabbath has championed for decades. The birthplace of Tony Iommi’s iron-fingered revolution. The city that birthed the sound that reshaped the very DNA of music. Every chord, every drum hit, every bassline—these are the death throes of giants, and they will shake the earth one final time.
Tickets go on sale February 14, and there will be no mercy. The desperate, the devout, the curious—they will all scramble for a piece of this moment, and many will be left in the cold. But for those who make it through the gates, this will be more than a show. It will be a ritual, a summoning of every demon Sabbath has ever unleashed. It will be the sound of an era collapsing into eternity.
I don’t know if I’ll be there in person—it’s going to be a hard ticket to get, and I’ve got a boatload of trips coming up, including one to London. But if my feet aren’t upon the soil of Villa Park when they play their final show, my spirit certainly will be.