Black Sabbath - Back to the Beginning: A Night of Metal Gods

Ozzy Osbourne performing a last time.

I knew this night was going to be unforgettable. But I didn’t expect it to tear me open and stitch me back together all at once. From the moment the first riff ripped through the speakers, something shifted inside me. It wasn’t just the volume, the lights, the spectacle, it was the weight of everything this music has ever meant to me. Every scream, every solo, every drop-tuned note felt like a rite. By the time the final, fading feedback rang out into the dark, I realized this wasn’t a concert. It was a pilgrimage. A sacred return to the altar of sound where we go to remember who we are and why we never let go.

I’m going to talk about my favorite performances of this unforgettable show in my order of preference. Gojira opened the gates with seismic precision. Joe Duplantier stood like some oceanic deity, channeling tides of rage and grace. Flying Whales hit like tectonic pressure bursting through the earth. Every groove, every growl, every tempo shift , it wasn’t just tight, it was elemental. Gojira doesn’t play songs. They summon forces. Tonight, they conjured fire, water, and thunder.

Then came Lamb of God, and the pit exploded. The temperature shifted. Suddenly it felt like we were in the eye of a storm. Laid to Rest, 512, Walk With Me in Hell , they didn’t just perform, they exorcised. Randy Blythe moved like a prophet in flames, preaching fury. It wasn’t just heavy. It was spiritual violence. Controlled. Unrelenting. Beautiful.

Phil Anselmo - Pantera

Pantera walked out like they never left.

No gimmicks. No apologies. Just power. A New Level hit like a call to arms. Fucking Hostile tore the roof off. And when they launched into Cowboys from Hell, the pit became a battlefield. The energy was electric, pure Texas thunder. Phil Anselmo’s voice was raw and commanding, and seeing Zakk Wylde channeling Dimebag’s soul through every squeal and dive bomb, it felt like time folded in on itself. Jason Momoa himself dove into the pit. That’s how real it got.

James Hetfield - Metallica

Then came Metallica, and the earth stood still. Creeping Death opened the floodgates and it was pure catharsis. Hetfield’s voice, aged like old iron, cut deep. Kirk unleashed lightning. Lars was rabid. Rob’s low-end pulse felt like a tectonic heartbeat. Fade to Black felt like mass in a temple of distortion. Master of Puppets cracked the sky open. Metallica reminded everyone that legends don’t fade. They dominate.

Slayer followed, summoned from the void like the final reckoning. I didn’t think I’d see them again. But there they were. Kerry King’s guitar tone was war incarnate. No theatrics. No mercy. Just speed, blood, and purpose. South of Heaven, Dead Skin Mask, and Raining Blood landed like sacred punishments. The crowd turned feral. It wasn’t nostalgia. It was vengeance. Slayer burned the place down and walked away like ghosts.

Then the lights dropped. The arena turned quiet. And through that silence came Ozzy Osbourne. Not just the frontman. Not just the icon. The soul of this entire movement. He stood there, fragile, but defiant and opened his heart. I Don’t Know, Bark at the Moon, and then Mama, I’m Coming Home. That one broke me. I’ve heard it a hundred times, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. The way he sang it, eyes closed, hands trembling, it felt like a goodbye letter. A hymn.

Then came the final chapter. Black Sabbath rose from the smoke like gods returning home. Tony Iommi, regal. Geezer Butler, thunderous. And Ozzy again .. reborn in his throne. War Pigs was prophetic. N.I.B. shook the bones. Children of the Grave made the floor vibrate like a ritual. These weren’t just songs. They were scripture. And Paranoid m.. that final scream into the abyss .. unified every soul in the venue.

I stood in my sofa feeling shattered and uplifted. I saw gods walk among men. I saw generations collide in sound and sweat. I saw the beginning. And maybe the end. I cried like a baby not from sadness, but from overwhelming joy. There is a before and after this show. It didn’t just mark a moment in time. It changed something in me. It was the bookend to a life of sound.