Former Ozzy Osbourne guitarist reflects on the shock of his dismissal, why money never mattered, and why receiving proper credit meant more than anything.
In the world of heavy metal, few stories capture the highs and lows of rock stardom quite like that of Jake E. Lee. As the guitarist who stepped into the massive shadow cast by the legendary Randy Rhoads in Ozzy Osbourne’s band, Lee not only held his own but also contributed to some of the most iconic albums in the Prince of Darkness’s solo career. Yet, his tenure ended abruptly in 1987, leaving fans and industry insiders puzzled and Lee himself grappling with a mix of emotions. Now, in the wake of Ozzy Osbourne’s passing on July 22, 2025, Lee has opened up in a candid interview, shedding light on the circumstances surrounding his firing, the role of Sharon Osbourne, and his enduring philosophy on fame, fortune, and fairness.f63418
Lee’s journey with Ozzy began in the early 1980s, a time when the metal scene was still reeling from the tragic death of Randy Rhoads in a plane crash in 1982. Rhoads had been more than just a guitarist; he was a revolutionary force whose neoclassical style and songwriting prowess had elevated Ozzy’s post-Black Sabbath career to new heights with albums like Blizzard of Ozz and Diary of a Madman. Replacing him was no small task—it was akin to filling the shoes of a guitar god. Lee, a relatively unknown talent from the Los Angeles club scene with stints in bands like Teaser and Ratt, auditioned and won the spot. But from the outset, he was determined not to mimic Rhoads or chase the trends set by contemporaries like Eddie Van Halen. Instead, Lee brought his own flair: a blend of bluesy grit, technical precision, and melodic sensibility that fit Ozzy’s chaotic energy perfectly.eeb48d
The first major fruit of this collaboration was the 1983 album Bark at the Moon. Lee co-wrote much of the material, including the title track, which became a staple in Ozzy’s live sets and a testament to the band’s resilience after Rhoads’ death. The riff for “Bark at the Moon” was Lee’s creation, a howling, aggressive line that captured the album’s werewolf-themed artwork and Ozzy’s larger-than-life persona. Critics and fans alike praised the record for proving that Ozzy wasn’t a one-guitarist wonder. It sold millions, solidifying Lee’s place in the lineup. However, behind the scenes, things weren’t as harmonious. Lee, young and inexperienced in the cutthroat business of music, signed a contract under pressure from Sharon Osbourne—Ozzy’s wife and manager—that deprived him of proper songwriting credits and the royalties that came with them. This decision would haunt him for years, as he watched the album’s success translate into financial windfalls for others while he received far less than he deserved.980c32
Reflecting on this period, Lee has been forthright about feeling “screwed over.” He recalls how Sharon, known for her shrewd business acumen and protective stance over Ozzy’s career, orchestrated the deal. “I got kind of screwed over on the ‘Bark at the Moon’ record,” Lee stated plainly. But he emphasizes that he doesn’t harbor deep-seated resentment. Instead, he views it through the lens of industry realities: “I knew it was a business move, and that it wasn’t based around f*cking me over.” This perspective reveals Lee’s pragmatic side—he understood that in the high-stakes world of rock management, decisions are often driven by profit margins rather than personal loyalties. Yet, the lack of credit stung more than the money. For Lee, recognition for his creative input was paramount; it validated his artistry in an era where guitarists were often overshadowed by charismatic frontmen like Ozzy.b8bb0f
By the time the band recorded 1986’s The Ultimate Sin, tensions had escalated. Lee, wiser from his previous experience, pushed back for fair compensation and credits. He contributed significantly to the album’s sound, infusing tracks like “Shot in the Dark” and “Lightning Strikes” with his signature style—layered harmonies, pinch harmonics, and a sense of urgency that complemented Ozzy’s vocals. The album was another commercial hit, peaking at No. 6 on the Billboard 200 and spawning successful tours. But Lee’s advocacy for his rights likely sealed his fate. In 1987, while the band was on a break, Sharon called him to deliver the news: he was out. The firing came via telephone, a cold and impersonal method that amplified the shock. Lee remembers the industry’s reaction as one of disbelief; peers and executives were stunned that such a key player in Ozzy’s resurgence was let go so unceremoniously.4b721e
The dismissal wasn’t just professional—it felt like a betrayal, though Lee insists it wasn’t personal. “It was business, not personal,” he explains, “but the amount Sharon was willing to go to protect Ozzy’s interests was eye-opening.” Here, Lee alludes to the financial motivations behind the move. Sharon, ever the fierce guardian of Ozzy’s empire, prioritized maximizing earnings, which may have meant restructuring the band to cut costs or bring in fresh blood like Zakk Wylde, who would become Ozzy’s longest-tenured guitarist. Lee speculates that Ozzy needed a “good reason” to justify the change, leading to some public barbs from the singer about Lee’s performance or attitude. But Lee chose not to retaliate. “He talked some sh*t about me; but I always assumed he did it because he needed to have a good reason for getting rid of me,” Lee says. “I never really fired back because I knew I’d never win. Getting into a fight with Ozzy Osbourne through the press, he’s gonna win.”4359fa
This restraint speaks volumes about Lee’s character. In an industry rife with ego clashes and tabloid feuds—think of the infamous battles between bandmates in Guns N’ Roses or Metallica—Lee opted for the high road. He still speaks fondly of Ozzy, describing him as a “clownish, funny, sweet guy” with a rare, shining personality that endeared him to everyone. Even Sharon, despite her role in his ousting, earns Lee’s respect. “I still liked him, and I still liked Sharon,” he admits. This lack of bitterness stems from Lee’s core values: money, while necessary, has never been his driving force. “Money has never been important to me,” he asserts. “People don’t believe that; they say, ‘Yeah, right!’ But it really doesn’t… Money corrupts so many people. I never let it corrupt me. If I wanna do something I’ll do it, and I’ll see if I can get paid for it.”857f4d
Indeed, Lee’s post-Ozzy career illustrates this philosophy. Rather than chasing lucrative reunions or capitalizing on his fame through endorsements, he formed Badlands in 1988 with vocalist Ray Gillen (formerly of Black Sabbath), bassist Greg Chaisson, and drummer Eric Singer. The band released two albums—Badlands (1989) and Voodoo Highway (1991)—that showcased Lee’s evolution as a songwriter and player. Tracks like “Dreams in the Dark” and “High Wire” blended hard rock with blues and soul, earning critical acclaim but modest commercial success. Badlands disbanded in 1993 amid personal tragedies, including Gillen’s death from AIDS-related complications in 1993. Lee then retreated from the spotlight, dealing with his own losses: the deaths of his parents and first wife. For nearly two decades, he lived quietly, occasionally contributing to tribute albums or session work, but avoiding the grind of touring and recording.a6ad66
His return came in 2013 with Red Dragon Cartel, a project that allowed him to reclaim his narrative. The self-titled debut album featured guest appearances from rock luminaries like Robin Zander of Cheap Trick and Paul Di’Anno of Iron Maiden, and songs like “Deceived” demonstrated that Lee’s chops were as sharp as ever. Touring followed, though not without challenges; Lee suffered a health scare in 2014 when he was shot multiple times in a random Las Vegas incident, surviving but requiring extensive recovery. Through it all, he maintained his independence, prioritizing artistic integrity over financial gain. “Receiving proper credit meant more than anything,” Lee reflects, echoing his Bark at the Moon grievances. In 1997, Ozzy himself acknowledged Lee’s contributions in the liner notes to The Ozzman Cometh compilation, crediting him for the “Bark at the Moon” riff—a small but significant validation after years of oversight.abdc77
The ultimate redemption came in July 2025, at Ozzy’s farewell concert dubbed “Back to the Beginning.” Held shortly before Ozzy’s death, the event brought together former bandmates, including Lee, for a celebration of the singer’s legacy. Lee performed classics from his era, receiving a hero’s welcome from fans and peers like Nuno Bettencourt and Tom Morello, who offered unexpected support. “Everybody was so supportive,” Lee recalls. “Nuno in particular surprised me… he was so supportive and helped me a lot.” More importantly, it allowed Lee to mend fences with Ozzy. “I always wanted to reconcile, tell him there weren’t any hard feelings and end things on a friendly note. I got to do that,” he says. The moment was poignant, especially in hindsight, as Ozzy passed away soon after on July 22, 2025, at the age of 76, following years of health struggles.8109c9
In reflecting on Ozzy’s impact, Lee is effusive. “He changed everything for me. He put me in the spotlight,” he notes, acknowledging that his time with the band catapulted him from obscurity to stardom. Whether he would have achieved similar success elsewhere is speculative, but Lee’s pride in his contributions is evident. “It helped confirm that Ozzy wasn’t over just because Randy had passed. I’m proud to have been a part of that.” This sentiment underscores why credit mattered so much—it wasn’t about ego, but about honoring the collaborative spirit of music-making.8082c7
Lee’s story is a cautionary tale for aspiring musicians: the music industry is as much about contracts and calculations as it is about creativity. Sharon Osbourne’s role, often villainized in rock lore for her tough management style, was instrumental in building Ozzy’s empire, but it came at a cost to talents like Lee. Yet, Lee’s lack of vindictiveness sets him apart. He didn’t sue, didn’t badmouth, and didn’t let the experience sour his love for the craft. Instead, he focused on what truly mattered: the music and the personal connections forged along the way.
As heavy metal evolves, with new generations discovering Ozzy’s catalog through streaming and tributes, Lee’s era risks being overshadowed by Rhoads’ innovation or Wylde’s longevity. But his reflections remind us of the human element behind the riffs. Money, he insists, is fleeting and corrupting; credit and respect endure. In the end, Lee’s reconciliation with Ozzy before the icon’s death provided closure not just for him, but for fans who cherished that chapter of metal history.
Looking forward, Lee continues to perform and create on his terms. Red Dragon Cartel remains active, and whispers of potential solo projects hint at more to come. His philosophy—do what you love, seek fair recognition, and let the rest fall away—serves as inspiration. In a genre built on rebellion, Jake E. Lee’s quiet resilience is perhaps the most rebellious act of all.
