Read Online I Am Ozzy by Ozzy Osbourne;Chris Ayres - Free Book Online

clever guy, he probably could have had his own company with his name above the door: Geezer & Geezer Ltd. But the most impressive thing he could do was write lyrics: really fucking intense lyrics about wars and super-heroes and black magic and a load of other mind-blowing stuff. The first time he showed me them I just said, 'Geezer, we've gotta start writing our own songs so we can use these words. They're amazing.'
We became pretty tight, me and Geezer. I'll always remember when we were walking around the Bull Ring in the spring or early summer of 1968, and all of a sudden this bloke with long, frizzy blond hair and the tightest trousers you've ever seen pops out of nowhere and slaps Geezer on the back.
'Geezer fucking Butler!'
Geezer turned around and said, 'Rob! How are you, man?'
'Oh, y'know... could be worse.'
'Rob, this is Ozzy Zig,' said Geezer. 'Ozzy, this is Robert Plant - he used to sing with the Band of Joy.'
'Oh yeah ,' I said, recognising the face. 'I went to one of your shows. Fucking awesome voice, man.'
'Thanks,' said Plant, flashing me this big, charming smile.
'So, what you been up to?' asked Geezer.
'Well, since you mention it, I've been offered a job.'
' Nice . What's the gig?'
'The Yardbirds.'
' Whoah! Congratulations, man. That's huge. But didn't they split up?'
'Yeah, but Jimmy - y'know the guitarist, Jimmy Page - he's still around. So is the bass player. And they've got contractual obligations in Scandinavia, so they want to put something together.'
'That's great,' said Geezer.
'Well, I'm not sure I'm gonna to be taking the gig, to be honest,' said Plant, shrugging. 'I've got some pretty good stuff going on here, y'know? Matter of fact, I've just put a new band together.'
'Oh, er... cool,' said Geezer. 'What's the name?'
'Hobbstweedle,' said Plant.
    Later, when Plant was gone, I asked Geezer if the bloke was out of his fucking mind. 'Is he seriously going to pass up a gig with Jimmy Page for that Hobbsbollocks thing?' I asked.
    Geezer shrugged. 'I think he's just worried it won't work out,' he said. 'But he'll do it, as long as they change the name. They can't go around calling themselves the "New Yardbirds" for long.'
'It's better than fucking Hobbstweedle.'
'Good point.'
Bumping into someone like Robert Plant wasn't unusual when you were with the Geezer. He seemed to know everyone . He was part of the cool crowd, so he went to the right parties, took the right drugs, hung out with the right movers and shakers. It was a real eye-opener, and I loved being part of it. Still, there was a big problem hanging over us: our band, Rare Breed, was shit. We made Hobbstweedle look like The fucking Who. When I joined they were set on being 'experimental': they had all these trippy stage props and a strobe light, like they were trying to be the next Pink Floyd. Now, there was nothing wrong with trying to be the next Pink Floyd - later on, I would enjoy dropping a few tabs of mind detergent while listening to 'Interstellar Overdrive' - but we couldn't pull it off. Pink Floyd was music for rich college kids, and we were the exact fucking opposite of that. So Rare Breed wasn't going anywhere, and me and Geezer both knew it. Rehearsals were just one long argument about when the bongo solo should come in. Worst of all, there was this bloke in the band who called himself Brick, and he fancied himself as a bit of a San Francisco hippy type.
'Brick's a dick,' I kept telling Geezer.
'Aw, he's all right.'
'No, Brick's a dick .'
'Give it a rest, Ozzy.'
'He's a dick , that Brick.'
And so on.
I got on fine with the other members of the band. But with Brick on the scene and me getting increasingly pissed off, Rare Breed was never going to last. Even Geezer started to lose his patience after a while.
The only gig I can remember playing in those very early days - and I think it was with Rare Breed, but it could have been under a different name, with different band members, 'cos line-ups changed so often back then - was the