The death of legendary guitarist Randy Rhoads in 1982 was a seismic blow, not just to his fans or to rock music, but especially to those closest to him on the road—none more so than Ozzy Osbourne and bassist Rudy Sarzo. More than forty years later, Sarzo opened up on The David Ellefson Show and pulled back the curtain on the frantic days that followed.
According to Sarzo, keeping Ozzy alive was literally the mission. “Do not cancel the tour,” he recalled the management saying. “You cancel the tour, Ozzy goes home, Ozzy dies. Goes in the hole.”
Randy Rhoads was far more than a bandmate to Ozzy—he was a creative lifeline, and losing him left a void that threatened to swallow the former Black Sabbath frontman whole. “We were auditioning guitar players,” Sarzo explained, describing the desperate need to keep everyone working, moving, breathing.
But grief and urgency don’t always make for clear decision-making. Instead, the following days turned into utter chaos. Guitarists were flown in and assembled alongside the band, with little clarity about who had actually been hired. That included Bernie Tormé, sent over from London by Dave Arden (Sharon Osbourne’s brother), who had already been paid to join the band.
“He comes in, and sits in the corner waiting his turn,” Sarzo remembered. “But he’d already been hired! He’s just waiting for someone to notice.”
If it wasn’t confusing enough, Sarzo’s own brother Robert was also part of the auditions—and in fact, Sharon and Ozzy wanted him for the job. “So when Bernie hears that, he says, ‘Oh. But I’ve already been paid. I’ve been sent here.’” The band was auditioning guitarists while, behind the scenes, the paperwork was already moving forward with someone else.
For at least two or three days, Tormé reportedly just… sat, paid but sidelined, in the strange limbo of rock and roll logistics.
These were pre-smartphone, pre-text, pre-email days. “This is the kind of chaos that was going on,” Sarzo said, attributing a lot of confusion to the limits of 1980s technology. “Of course, this is from a date 40-something years ago, when we didn’t have texting, cell phones, all these other lines of technology to communicate.”
The desperate push to “keep Ozzy moving” may sound brutal—but for those who loved him, it was about survival. For a time, every rehearsal, every gig, and every awkward audition meant another day defying gravity after tragedy.
These revelations are a poignant reminder: the legends of rock are human, and, at their hardest moments, sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is the bravest thing they can do.
