Pop Reviews : Ozzy Belts Out Off-Key Excitement

Six thousand horned fists thrust into the air, a few seconds from “Carmina Burana” pounded through the speakers, and there was Ozzy Osbourne, the grand old man of heavy metal, shrieking on Monday to a Universal Amphitheatre that was lit Dodger Stadium-bright with the flames of a thousand cigarette lighters.

Here comes the riffing: thunka-thunka-thunka . Here comes the guitar solo . . . thweeeeee. The basic form of the Ozzy thing hasn’t changed a whole lot in the decade since his first solo record, sort of sappily melodic pop songs overlaid with virtuosic hemi-semi-demi-quaver guitar obbligato and stolidly churning bass.

What remain astonishing are Ozzy’s vocals (as out of tune as anything in pop since Exene started taking voice lessons) and his palpable, little-kid need for the attention of the crowd--rough edges that you’d assume would have been worn off after more than 20 years of touring. Maybe that’s why Ozzy shows are still a little bit exciting.

Lost a little weight, Ozzy has, pumped some iron, tied his long hair into a samurai topknot, but he still minces across the stage like somebody’s old auntie going to fetch a pot of tea, when he’s not bouncing up and down like a contestant on “The Price Is Right.”

He looks cleaned up, almost distinguished, ready for one of those Vanity Fair “rock survivor” profiles. Peace signs, rippling muscle, his small son hoisted triumphantly onto his shoulders, Ozzy is a real ‘90s kind of guy.