Photo: Koh Hasebe/Shinko Music/Getty Images

RIP Ozzy Osbourne—Why 'War Pigs' Will Always Make Me Think of Skiing

Originally posted on Powder | By Matt Lorelli | Last updated Jul 23, 2025 12:39 PM ET

Ozzy Osbourne passed away yesterday, July 22, 2025.

Osbourne wasn't a skier, at least not that we're aware of, but his music has influenced the majority of skiers who have read POWDER since the magazine's founding in 1972. That's a bold assumption, sure, but Osbourne's music was so influential to the action sports and counter-culture movements of the late-20th century that it feels like a safe bet.

Between his solo work and deep catalog with Black Sabbath, Osbourne's music has been played on road-tripping car stereos, in dingy ski town bars, and at rowdy après keggers for decades.

Osbourne's music isn't synonymous with skiing, per se, but his tracks have fueled the excitement and enjoyment of spending time outside. There's nothing like head-banging to Crazy Train with three of your best friends on the way to the hill.

His passing brought up a fond personal memory that involves the Black Sabbath song War Pigs, a shuttle bus, and Mount Bohemia, Michigan.

I realized today just how profound of a memory it is.

Keep reading for the short story.

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My skis began to drip as the snow slowly melted. Standing upright, they were basking in the Michigan sunshine adjacent to a battered road deep in the Keweenaw Peninsula.

I had just skied 800 vertical feet of perfect, spring corn moguls and slush through Mount Bohemia’s ‘Extreme Backcountry’ zone, but I made a wrong turn and ended up at the road instead of the lift. No worries. Mount Bohemia runs a free shuttle that ferries skiers from the road back to the base area.

Exhausted, I slumped down into an empty seat on the packed, but quiet shuttle. Just as I thought about stealing a few moments on my phone, or a quick snooze, the shuttle driver cranked up the radio.

An unmistakable guitar, bass, drum, and siren began to blast from the speakers. About 50 seconds into the track, the music cut out for a brief moment. *Tisk, tisk, tisk, tisk,* The cymbal rings. It’s interrupted by a brief, repeated guitar riff.

“Generals gathered in their masses, Just like witches at Black Masses…” Ozzy Osbourne’s iconic voice electrified the shuttle. I looked around, and the once mundane crowd of strangers was head-banging in unison.

“As the war machine keeps turning. Death and hatred to mankind. Poisoning their brainwashed minds. Oh, Lord, yeah!”

The shuttle had stopped, door open, ready for us to disembark, but nobody got off. Head-banging, air-guitaring, and acting like fools, we rocked the shuttle for nearly the whole song.

Thank you for this moment, and so many more, Ozzy.

RIP.