Featuring contributions from Lemmy, a pair of Hot 100 hits, and a newly vulnerable outlook, this peak from the rock star’s solo career gets a 30th anniversary reissue.
When Ozzy Osbourne started recording No More Tears, he had just completed a court-ordered stint in rehab, the result of a grim night in 1989 where he blacked out and assaulted his wife and manager, Sharon. She later dropped the charges against him, but this was clearly rock bottom, and for the first time in his substance-addled life, the 41-year-old singer committed to recovery. No More Tears was the first album he made sober. (He now admits that while he was off booze, he was still abusing prescription pills.) It was also a chance to prove his relevancy at a time when his tabloid persona was overshadowing his musical output. On a new deluxe edition released in celebration of its 30th anniversary, No More Tears still sounds like Osbourne’s high water mark as a solo artist.
The reckoning in Osbourne’s personal life shows up all over the music. A decade removed from the wildness of Blizzard of Ozz, he sounds like a man who very much wants to keep his crazy train from going off the rails. “I can’t take this alone/Don’t leave me on my own tonight,” he pleads on “S.I.N.,” the desperation straining his voice. The shambling “A.V.H.” has the pangs of withdrawal, while the power ballad “Time After Time” considers a splintered long-term relationship that sounds a lot like his own. On the stunning closing track, “Road to Nowhere,” Osbourne eulogizes his former self with humility and gravitas: “I was looking back on my life/And all the things I’ve done to me/I’m still looking for the answers/I’m still searching for the key.” For the first time in his career, the famously reckless singer sounds like he understands the consequences to his actions.
Of course, No More Tears is still an Ozzy Osbourne album, and it’s a brilliant one for how well it balances its lesson-learning and vulnerability with thrilling bravado. Unlike his 1970s albums with Black Sabbath, an immortal run that was burdened with nothing less than the invention of heavy metal, Osbourne’s solo work has always been a place where he could be a pop singer. No More Tears yielded a pair of Hot 100 hits in the epic, orchestral title track and the lighters-aloft tearjerker, “Mama, I’m Coming Home.” Osbourne sells that song’s sweetly simple sentiment—he’s got a mama, and he’s coming home to her—with a depth of feeling that only the greatest pop balladeers can hit.
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A hallmark of Osbourne’s solo work is the presence of a virtuosic guitarist beside him. Randy Rhoads, with his electrifying playing on Blizzard of Ozz and Diary of a Madman, was a co-star and true equal, and after Rhoads’ death in a plane crash in 1982, Osbourne made a point of keeping a shredder in his employ. Zakk Wylde first stepped in for 1988’s No Rest for the Wicked, and on No More Tears, he joined the pantheon of great rock sidemen. Wylde can shred with the best of them, but his earthier, blues-rooted style helped define the sound of the albums he worked on with Osbourne. Without his twangy licks, “Mama, I’m Coming Home” would fall flat, and his contributions as a songwriter helped make No More Tears the most consistent solo record of Osbourne’s solo career.
The late Lemmy Kilmister was also a crucial contributor to No More Tears. The Motörhead frontman co-wrote four of its best songs: “I Don’t Want to Change the World,” “Mama, I’m Coming Home,” “Desire,” and “Hellraiser.” Apart from “Hellraiser,” which Motörhead also recorded for March ör Die, these were songs that Lemmy couldn’t get away with at his main gig, whose whiskey-soaked rumble didn’t exactly lend itself to soaring pop hooks and tender acoustic balladry. Motörhead is both celebrated and criticized for their adherence to a single primordial style, but Lemmy’s work on No More Tears proves that he was a canny, versatile songwriter who had the good sense to play to his strengths.
The demos and bonus tracks on this new edition aren’t especially enlightening, but the live material, taken from a pair of shows in 1992, is essential. That ’92 run was cheekily dubbed No More Tours, as a burned-out Osbourne stared down another endless cycle of performances and decided he didn’t have it in him anymore. “I’d been on the road for 25 years, pretty much,” he wrote in his 2009 memoir, I Am Ozzy. “I was like a mouse on a wheel: album, tour, album, tour, album, tour, album, tour. I mean, I’d buy all these houses, and I’d never fucking live in them.” Of course, he un-retired just a few years later, but you can hear in these recordings the deep gratitude he felt toward his fans on what he thinks will be his last time singing to them. On nearly every song, Osbourne ad-libs an “I love you!” between verses. He sounds like a man who understands how precious it is to get a second chance.
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