All language subtitles for Randy.Rhoads.Reflections.of.a.Guitar.Icon.2022.720p.BluRay.x264-ORBS-English

1975, I got
a little phone message

from a guitar player
in Burbank, California

who was forming a
rock and roll band,

and he was auditioning
lead singers.

I met up with him at his mom's
house about a week later.

He plugs a guitar into
a little Fender practice amp,

and I tell you what, he played
some of the best guitar

I've ever heard to this day.

People, don't ever forget
the name of this guy.

He was Randy Rhoads!

All right!

♪ Oooooh ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Stay alive ♪

♪ Just laugh the time away ♪

♪ You'll survive ♪

♪ Do what you do
your way, all right ♪

In the late 1970s,

Randy Rhoads and his band,

Quiet Riot, were tearin' up
the music scene in Los Angeles.

♪ Yeah! ♪

All aboard!

Then, in 1979,
at 23 years old,

Rhoads etched his place
in history as a guitar legend

when he joined Ozzy Osbourne's
new solo band.

It was an extraordinary
rise to fame on a road

that was paved with hard work,
determination, and sorrow.

Randy was an LA kid,

born in Santa Monica, California
on December 6th, 1956,

and raised in Burbank.

His parents were musicians
and music teachers.

His father left the family when
Randy was just 17 months old

and his mother,
Delores, raised him

and his older
brother and sister.

To support the family,
she opened a music school

in North Hollywood
called Musonia.

He grew up in my school,
my music school,

and he was very
influenced that way.

We were steeped
and immersed in all the music

and all of the activities
that were going on.

Randy started playing
guitar when he was six.

I started playing
drums when I was 12.

Randy took folk
guitar lessons at Musonia,

where he learned basic
chords and simple pop tunes.

He wanted more
than that, so he came and said,

"Mom, I really wanna
take electric guitar."

Randy was taking
two to three lessons a week

at Musonia.

His teacher saw that he
was no ordinary student.

This is where Scott Shelly
taught Randy for nine months

until Scott went
to my mom and said,

"Mrs. Rhoads, I can't
teach your son any longer."

My mom said,
"Why would that be?"

And Scott's reply was,
"For the last month and a half,

he's been teaching me,

and I can no longer
keep up with him."

In junior high, Randy
formed a band with schoolmate

and neighbor friend Kelly Garni.

He taught Kelly
how to play bass,

and the two would have
regular jam sessions.

And I can remember telling them,

"There's this concert
we gotta go to.

I'm gonna take you
to see Alice Cooper."

And he thought that
that was a folk singer,

so he goes, "Well, why do
we have to go see her?"

I said, "When you see her,

you're gonna see why
you had to see her."

Total epiphany.
Changed his life.

KOMP 92.3,
The Rock of Las Vegas.

We're talkin' to Kelly Garni
here, who grew up with Randy

and was one of the founding
members of Quiet Riot,

which was Randy's
basically first real band?

Mhm. Yeah, first
real band of any renown.

Everything we had
done prior to that

was just little backyard
parties and things like that.

We often performed
with no singer whatsoever.

We'd show up, me and Randy,

and whatever drummer
we could get that night,

and just jam,
and people loved it.

One of Randy's
most stunning features

was his charisma,

way before he had even
developed any big talent

as a lead guitar
player, but, I mean,

you just looked at
this kid and said,

"Someday, he's really
gonna be something.

He's really gonna be somebody."

And you could just tell,
he glowed.

Since they were
getting more gigs,

Randy and Kelly thought it
was time they got a singer.

In March of 1975, Randy
reached out to Kevin DuBrow.

DuBrow had been jamming
with some friends

but had no live experience.

Known for his
flamboyant clothes,

it was clear he always
wanted to be center stage.

The only piece
missing was a drummer.

After my first
year in college

in the summer of 1975,

I was looking for
something to do

and just, on a whim,
called Randy to see,

you know, what he was up to.
Maybe we'd get together,

jam, do something, whatever.

And he and Kelly and Kevin were
in the process

of looking for a drummer,
so that's when I called him.

It was just pure, dumb luck.

Kevin DuBrow
and I were dating at the time,

and he told me that he had
tried out for this new band

to be the singer,

and so he had been
rehearsing with them,

you know, quite a few
weeks and everything,

and then finally
he said, you know,

"Would you like to come
down and watch us rehearse?"

So I went down and I walked in,

and they were more hippie-like.

They had long hair
and kinda grungy clothes

and very plain,
like very simple.

I was expecting something
more like a British-style band

'cause that's what
Kevin really loved.

They started rehearsing and it
just sounded really amazing.

It was really fun.

♪ I got a letter in the mail ♪

♪ Sayin' I'm gonna go to jail ♪

♪ Someone's got an ax ♪

♪ Lookin' it out for me ♪

Kevin loved Randy.

He had feelings for him
as a younger brother.

He had respect for his talent.

They were very, very close.

Actually, the sun
rose and set on Randy,

as far as Kevin was concerned.

When I first
heard the guy play,

I knew how good
he was that moment.

It was like, whoa, where
did this guy come from?

It was like a secret,
like a treasure.

He wasn't really
classically trained.

He was a regular
rock guitar player,

started out playing blues,

listened to things like
Johnny Winter, Leslie West,

Alice Cooper, and then,
as time went along,

he started listening
to more classical music

and started taking
a few classes or lessons,

but to say he was
classically trained,

which means somebody who started
off playing classic guitar,

and Randy, nah, he was
a rock guitar player.

When I saw him play,

I just couldn't believe
it either.

He was like, here's
this little skinny kid,

and he was fucking great.

Ron Sobol was
a friend of Kevin DuBrow's,

and they both shared
an interest in photography.

We both were photographers,
or I was just starting to be,

as far as taking rock pictures.

He says, "Well, bring
your pictures over.

I'll show you mine."

And, from then on,
we became best friends.

Ron went on to become
the band photographer

for Quiet Riot,

capturing many pictures
from their early days,

and he too was blown away

by Randy's abilities
on the guitar.

He could play fast.

He could play slow.

Or he could play crunchy.

He could play bluesy.

And all of it with so much
feeling. It was just amazing.

You know, I just loved it,

and he looked good.

You could just tell this guy
was gonna become a rock star.

Randy kinda had an aura
about him back then even.

We'd go up and we played
Stough Park just on a whim,

like on a Friday, and
3,000 people would show up.

It was always kinda like that.

The group decided
they needed a manager,

and, through a friend,
Kevin found Dennis Wageman.

Wageman converted his garage
into a rehearsal space,

and now the band had a place
to jam whenever they wanted.

And, of course, we weren't
Quiet Riot then, either.

Throwing out all sorts of
ridiculous names at that time.

Okay, I gotta
know, what was the name?

The previous name?

- Come on, you gotta!
- You got any bleach?

Toss in the Dung Heap.

It was...
It was Little Women.

Really?
Are you kidding?

- Seriously.
- — Oh, no.

No wonder you changed it.

Lasted for about a week.

There was a friend of mine.

There was this group called
Status Quo, English band.

It was Richie Parfitt,
a really good guitar player,

and I told him
the name of the band

of what we used to be
called, and he said, "Ughhh."

And he said, "If I had a band,
I'd call 'em Quite Right."

"Quite Right", and I said,
"Hey, this is Quiet Riot!"

He says, "Say it in English!"
He goes, "Quiet Riot!"

And so I took it to the guys
in rehearsal that night,

and they said, "Eh, it's cool."

Funny how those
things happen in life

'cause there was no, "Okay.
You know, we're a band now."

That didn't happen.

I remember playing
San Souci restaurant.

We got there, and it was this,
like, Chinese restaurant,

and, you know,
there are patrons eating,

and, you know, Randy
turns on his guitar,

and it was like,
"You can't play here."

♪ Get your kicks, come on
everybody, get your kicks ♪

One of the first places
I remember us playing,

it was a place in
Van Nuys on Oxnard

called The Rock Corporation,
and it was like a bikers' bar,

and the patrons there
were like bikers,

and it went bad sometimes.

There was one time
where we were playing,

as always, too loud.

Randy was always
louder than God,

and it was
too loud for the club,

and so the management
turned off the PA,

and so Kevin plugged his
microphone into Randy's amp

and called him an asshole
or something like that,

and one of his biker buddies
ran from the back of the bar

with a pitcher
in his hand and...

just by real quick
thinking on behalf

of one of our roadies, Harold,

Harold jumped in front of Kevin,

and the guy beaned Harold
right on the head with it.

Probably would a
killed Kevin with it.

I mean, didn't phase Harold.

He was a big, heavy guy
with a very, very thick cranium.

They played a place called
La Canada Country Club,

and I did take
pictures of the band

playing in front of an audience.

♪ Ooh, here I come ♪

♪ You got it, rock
rock rockin', woo! ♪

♪ Rock rock rockin', woo! ♪

♪ Everybody get your kicks ♪

Dennis gave us some money
to do a demo at Sound City.

It was really kind
of a beat-up place.

Had kind of a history to it,

but it was kinda, you know,
one of those lower-end studios.

♪ You know he's fit to be tied ♪

Randy was obsessed
with finding the right tone

and the right guitar.

'Cause you're
really playing hard,

and I need, I think if you felt
that way, it'd come across.

Yeah,
if I had the right tone.

- You'll get it.
- — I got it.

Ronnie! Ronnie, can you movie
the—... Randy, look, say hi.

Hi, Ron! Well, we had
a bad movie here,

but, ah, it's all
together now.

We'll be just finishing up here,

and then we'll have
some pictures after.

Say hi, Dennis!
Hi, Dennis! Say hi!

For an early
birthday present,

Dennis bought Randy a Les Paul.

Even though it was a gift,

Randy insisted
on paying him back.

Best thing he ever did,
he gave Randy that Gibson.

♪ Well, I ain't got
no inhibitions ♪

♪ And my daddy gets
left, all right ♪

♪ The time for him
to make the decision ♪

♪ If this is still that place,
I'm gonna spend the night ♪

♪ He says get out, ♪

♪ You're no son of mine ♪

♪ What a problem,
you know he's fit to be tied ♪

The demo didn't
get them booked anywhere,

so the band decided they were
gonna put on their own show

on Halloween.

They booked a gig at
the Machinists Hall in Burbank.

I remember playing one
of those kinda dances

also not going well.

It happened a lot in
the early days, it seemed like.

The police had to come
and break up fights.

Kids were trying to get in free,

so it was quite a ruckus.

It was around this time

Randy got the nickname Snoopy.

If you looked at his profile,

the way his nose
was and his mouth,

and if he kinda went like that,

it's just kind of a Snoopy look.

And he liked that nickname.
I mean, he embraced it.

I remember playing
the chili festival.

From Van Nuys, the group
is called The Quiet Riot.

It was actually
quite a large crowd.

There was like
25,000 people there.

The band
got its first taste

of playing in front
of a huge crowd.

In November of 1975,

Quiet Riot played a show
on Club Day at Valley College,

and while the student body
got into

Randy's face-melting leads,

not everyone was pleased.

They were really loud,

and the guy in charge
of booking them for Club Day

took a lotta heat

from the faculty
and the administration.

♪ When you hold me,
a feelin' inside ♪

♪ You're givin' and I'm takin' ♪

♪ I know just how you want it ♪

♪ Here goes, just
how you need it ♪

♪ I know just how to give it ♪

♪ I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know ♪

The band was on
a roll, gigging all over town,

but one thing was missing:

playing the Hollywood
club scene.

But, as fate would have it,

they got a New Year's Eve gig
at a club called The Speakeasy

after a last—minute
cancellation by The Runaways.

There are a few specific
gigs I can remember

that were really integral
into getting us somewhere.

That show was huge for us.

Once we started
to get some notoriety,

that was probably
the most fun time.

At first, we were best buddies.

We did everything together,
socializing, partying.

You know, we were
together a lot.

We were together two, three,
four days a week all the time,

so, yeah, it was easy at first,
and everybody was happy.

The Star wood, Quiet
Riot played frequently.

Every six weeks,
they'd play Thursday, Friday,

and Saturday nights,
and they'd do two sets,

and they packed the house,

so it was an amazing
place to go see them.

♪ Like a rock-mobile ♪

♪ Our pistons are a-poppin'
right under your wheels ♪

♪ We're the ravers, oh yeah ♪

The first time I saw
Quiet Riot, I was 15 years old,

and I had never been
to a rock club before,

so Quiet Riot came out,
it was this huge sound,

and the sound was coming
straight from the guitar player.

I think my ears rang
for two days after I went there.

So, back at high school,

I was telling all the kids
about Quiet Riot and Randy.

Anybody that would get
in the car with me,

I'd take 'em down
there to The Star wood.

We'd line up in front
of both the gates.

Any door that opened
first, we'd fly in there,

because I had to have
my position in front of Randy,

in front of the stage. That
was where I stood always.

♪ Come on down ♪

♪ The ravers,
we're here to stay ♪

I had just arrived

in Los Angeles in the late '70s,

and I went to see whoever
was playing at The Star wood,

and it just happened
to be Quiet Riot.

I was just exploring,
and they were different

from anybody else
I had seen in a club

because they were already
projecting an arena band image.

Everything that they were
doing was bigger than life.

Even though they had
minimal production,

still, they had big
production values.

When I saw the band
performing that night,

I actually got to speak
with Kevin after the show,

and I gave him
kudos on how great

their vision and the band was
and I told him,

"Hey, you know, you guys
are gonna be really big."

We played
places like The Star wood

and Whisky all the time,

and if you played
those kinda places,

you were on their,
like, good list.

You could go there
any night of the week,

like The Star wood, for instance,

and they would let you in free.
You could go see any show.

They had a area upstairs
that was just for VIP,

a VIP lounge, and they'd
give you free drinks,

and it was just like
being a huge celebrity.

I mean, we're like
20 years old, so it was fun.

It was a grand old time.

The Star wood was a
great place and Quiet Riot

had such a solid following,

but the kind of guys
that Randy and Kevin

and Kelly and Drew were,

I mean, these guys
wanted to be rock stars,

but they were also
really nice guys.

That came off to the people
that followed them.

It was one big family reunion
every time they played.

A lotta high energy
and a lotta fun,

people having a great time.

The band everybody was
talking about was Quiet Riot,

and the main reason everybody
was talking about it

was because of Randy, I mean,
Randy was... was—-

you'd be hard-pressed to find—-
as a matter of fact,

you couldn't find anyone
that hadn't heard Randy

that just spoke volumes

of his talent,
it was just ridiculous.

The minute he walked
onto that stage,

it was the most fantastic
vision you can imagine

because he looked
like a rock star,

and the band hadn't
been discovered.

I mean the band, they were still
sluggin' down in the clubs.

He played every single
note every single night

like they were headlining

the biggest festival
on the planet.

Despite their popularity

in the Hollywood club scene,

the band still couldn't
land a record deal.

Frustrated with manager
Dennis Wageman,

they fired him and looked
for a new manager.

For a while, Kevin
shoved me out front and said,

"We don't have a manager
so you act like our manager

'cause big bands
have a manager."

You know? And I played
that role for a little while,

but, at the time,
I was taking bass lessons

from a guy named Adrian Ball,

and he introduced me
to his cousin named Susan,

and Susan had gotten a job
working for Warren Entner,

and I told her about
Quiet Riot, so I said,

"Why don't you have Warren
and David go see these guys?

I think it might be
a band that they can sign."

And she did.

Susan and Warren went
and saw them at The Star wood,

and that started
their relationship.

When they first
signed that contract,

the feeling with the band
and with friends was that,

okay, this is it,
this is the start.

Warren Entner was
working with Angel.

Angel was on
Casablanca with Kiss.

Quiet Riot was waiting
in the wings

to be the next big thing

and everything was
just gonna go great.

He was a really
personable guy

and he was in Grass Roots,

so he had some
background in music,

and they had a pretty good
management company going

at the time.

They had some pull, I gotta say.

TOBY, they were a legitimate
management company,

so when we did showcases,
it wasn't like a cattle call.

There were specific showcases
for specific labels.

That was really efficient.
That was the way to do it,

and so when Neil Bogart
came, you know,

he came by himself
and we played just to Neil.

Neil Bogart was the head of
Casablanca Records at the time.

It was really tense. We
played like maybe three songs.

He walked out, that was it.

Next day, you know,
Warren calls us,

says, "Yeah, he's gonna
sign you."

Didn't happen,
so then we had to go back

and start doing
the showcases again.

So we did one in Buddah.
One guy came.

He said, "Yeah, I get it.
I'll sign these guys."

The album
that you have out now,

a lot of people have
had trouble finding it

because it is on CBS Japan.

How did it happen
that an album like this

gets released
on a Japanese label?

Did you record it in Japan?

Yeah.

We were doing the album
for Buddah.

They went bankrupt,

and so TOBY paid
for it themselves.

Derek Lawrence
produced that album,

but he had
no interest in the band.

He just cared about the money.

I'd do a drum track that
was a really bad drum track,

and instead of saying,
"Let's do it again,"

he'd say, "Oh, yeah,
we'll fix it in mix."

And, you know, now I look back.

I don't wanna hear
that stuff anymore.

It was just miserable for me.

Quiet Riot One did not showcase
anybody in that band well,

which is a real shame.

The band generated
a lotta interest in Japan

by virtue of its look.

The Japanese bought that album
before they heard it.

They bought it on
the strength of a picture,

which gives you some idea
of the strength of a picture.

Kevin and I were
very, very close,

and I think we had a really
good relationship too,

except that things with the band

and him getting older
and a lot of attention,

he didn't know how to have
that and a girlfriend,

so that's pretty much what
ended our relationship.

Kevin wasn't the type
to stay faithful to a girl,

so it's kinda cool that
he stayed friends with Jodi,

and then Jodi and Randy
started to have an attraction.

Randy came to me
and said, you know,

"I'd really like to spend
some time alone with Jodi."

He was so confident
in so many things

but he was like
a little kid with this.

He just really
wanted to be alone.

Randy called and he
asked if he could come out

and get his hair cut.

Something just really
felt different,

and we just clicked

and we talked
for hours and hours,

and at the end of the evening,

he asked me if I wanted
to go to Disneyland,

and I said, "Sure,"
and that was our first date.

From that Saturday
on, we never parted.

There was a lotta
tension with Kevin,

although he would
never admit that,

but I do think his ego was hurt.

My dear friend, Lori Hollen,

and my girlfriend,
Carolyn Freeman,

they both came home
as if they had seen

the second coming of Christ

after having an amazing
time watching some band

called Quiet Riot,

and they go, "Brian,
you have to see this band!

This band is called Quiet Riot,

and they have this guitar
player named Randy Rhoads,

and he's like nothing
you've ever seen before!"

When I saw Quiet Riot,

the songs,
the music was fantastic.

They just got that
whole club shakin'

like I'd never seen anybody
be able to do before,

and I completely understood

what Carolyn and Lori
were on about that night,

and I then at that moment
was hooked on Quiet Riot

and wanting to see
Randy Rhoads play again

because, for me,
it was all about Randy.

I tell Lori, I said, you
know, "Talk to Kevin.

I will work for free
and I will be a band roadie

for these guys 'cause
they're amazing."

Next thing you know, I was
doing gigs with Quiet Riot

and tuning his guitars
and changing his strings.

All right!

"Laughing Gas" would
probably be the song

that I enjoyed playing

because it had
more of an edge to it.

It was much more metal,

and, you know, of course it
had Randy's solo in it as well.

I think every guitar player
that was worth his salt

had his solo time, and Randy's
personality came through.

Randy was mischievous,
you know. He was fun.

That came through
in his solo, you know,

and I think the people
loved him for that.

Every night, Kevin would
basically introduce Randy Rhoads

going into this guitar solo.

♪ I've heard some guitar
players, well, well ♪

♪ But I ain't heard
not too many ♪

♪ Like the incredible
Randy Rhoads ♪

♪ And he's gonna play
you a little song ♪

♪ It's called "Laughing Gas" ♪

Most guitar solos or drum solos
are pretty fuckin' boring,

to be honest, you know.

If you go see somebody play
a drum solo for 10 minutes,

after, you know, three minutes,
you're pretty much done.

Randy did this guitar
solo that was mesmerizing.

He would crank up the volume

and kick on
his distortion peddle.

And he would play
frets up on the neck.

Bend the neck,

and you'd get the sound of
bending the neck on the guitar.

And I'd be back
there behind his amp,

and he had an Echoplex,
an old Echoplex,

with a, you know, a tape in it,

and it had settings from
zero to like 36 or 24 on it,

and during each part
of the guitar solo,

I was back there and he
would give me, you know,

my little numbers, you know.

"During this, it'd be
a 12, and during this part,

during D it would be
a 36, and at this one, 24."

And I would be back there
changing the Echoplex

during his guitar solo.

The use of volume,

he would roll his hands
on his volume knobs.

And then he would go into this
beautiful classical portion.

You could hear a pin
drop in The Star wood

when he was playing this.

All eyes and ears
were glued to Randy

during that guitar solo,

especially during
the quiet moments.

Everybody was riveted
to Randy and his guitar,

and he made it sing like
I'd never seen anybody

make it sing before.

♪ Burn the fire like a flame ♪

I could just
sit there and watch him

from my vantage point
on the stage. Look to my left

and there's Randy Rhoads.
Even before he was a huge star,

I viewed him as a huge star.

I said, "I'm playing with one
of the best guitar players

there is whether
anyone knows it or not

is irrelevant to me."

On lead guitar,
this is Randy Rhoads!

Randy knew how good he was,

but that didn't matter
that much to him.

He wanted to be the absolute
best guitar player

that he could ever be,

he wanted to be the greatest
guitar player in the world,

but he didn't think that
made him a better person

or he wasn't arrogant
about it at all,

and I know that
he disliked arrogance

from other guitar players.

This was the years
of guitar heroes,

and I think, to a large degree,

bands were judged
on their guitar player,

and I think all
the guitar players in town

kept up on each other.

I know that,
at some of the shows,

we would see David Lee Roth
and Eddie Van Halen there,

which was always
interesting to me

because I know Randy never
went to see them play,

but they would always come
to see

Quiet Riot and Randy play.

There was a little
cross-town rivalry there

between Quiet Riot
and Van Halen,

so Van Halen, you know,
they were playing the Whisky

and Gazzarri's and all
those same places, you know,

and everybody's comparing Eddie
Van Halen to Randy Rhoads.

Did you know Randy Rhoads?

Yeah.

What'd
you think of that kid?

He was one guitarist
who was honest, anyway.

'Cause I read some
interviews that he did,

and he said that everything
he did he learned from me.

- Uh-huh.
- You know?

And he was good, but I don't
really think he did anything

that I haven't done.

Sure, there ain't nothin'
wrong with it, man.

I've copied some other
people's licks, you know?

I would take a picture
of Eddie Van Halen,

and just to kind of piss off
Randy,

and I would put it on
his wah-wah peddle,

which, you know,

he wasn't very excited about,
but it was in the perfect place

because every time he stomped
on his wah-wah peddle,

he stomped on it
as if he wanted to crush it.

Between gigs, Randy
gave guitar lessons at Musonia.

At one point, he had
upwards of 50 students.

Some of those licks
the students wanted to learn

were from his cross—town rival,
Eddie Van Halen.

But talking about
Randy being a teacher,

and, you know, if you look at
any of his live photos,

it always looks like he's
giving a lesson

to everybody in the arena.

He was never one
of those guitar players

that would hide
what he was playing.

He always was very
articulate, very clear,

in his presentation
to the audience.

I had started
to listen to Van Halen,

and so I said, "Well,
I really kinda like this,"

and I would bring a cassette
and I'd play it for him.

I didn't realize at the time

that there was this relationship
between the two of them.

Had I of known about that,
I probably wouldn't have asked.

But Randy graciously
offered to learn the song,

and, you know,
I'm sure it killed him

to have to take
that cassette home

and learn how to play
the songs of his nemesis.

Honestly, I never
felt any rivalry with Van Halen,

but then again,
from my perspective,

I think it was more because
it was the guitar hero thing

and since, you Know,
I'm a drummer,

you know, maybe it just
didn't occur to me,

but we did play with 'em that
one time at Glendale College.

There was a concert
that almost didn't happen

because Quiet Riot
and Van Halen couldn't decide

who was gonna be the headliner

and who was gonna
be the warm-up act.

I mean, it literally
came down to a short time

before the concert
ever happened,

and then Van Halen
signed a record contract,

and then it was like,
"Okay, you're the headliner."

It was a big show, over
a thousand. Lotta people there.

That was a big venue
for us back then.

Randy had the flu that night,

and I know he really wanted
to be at his best that night

because he felt,
I think, a bit of a rivalry

because people
likened him to Eddie,

so I think he wanted to,

you know,
to show that he was as good,

but I don't think
his ego was involved,

and what I remember
was he stepped off the back

of the stage
and fell down and hurt himself,

just 'cause his head
wasn't in it, you know?

He was really feeling lousy.

And, you know,
Randy was a real card.

He would always do something
to get you in trouble

almost every time
you interacted with him,

so he was like,
"Oh! There's these dresses.

Oh, let's put "em on!"

When I look
at Ron's pictures now,

it's hard for me to believe
it's the same person we lost.

Here's our manager,
Warren Entner.

He got us all together
just like this.

He showed us just how to dress.

On the surface, it
looked like the band was having

a good time, but underneath
frustrations were boiling over,

especially when Van Halen
got signed to a record deal

and Quiet Riot didn't.

Kevin, he was a real
strong personality,

and he and Kelly never really
got along from the get-go.

Part of that was due
to Kelly's, you know, problems.

He was suffering from a real
bad alcohol addiction problem,

and it was getting the better
of him and it came to a head.

♪ You give advice for free ♪

To me, it's the most tragic
night of Kelly Garni's life.

If there's one night
in Kelly Garni's life

that he could have back,
I'm sure that's it.

♪ Bottoms up ♪

There had always been
a tension in the band

between Kevin and Kelly
but it never became a crisis

because Kelly always carried
his end of playing onstage.

♪ Say what you wanna say ♪

Kevin would've replaced him,
you know, if he could've,

but, you know, he wasn't
gonna fight Randy over it.

♪ Face is red
because you're happy ♪

Kelly just wanted to be
in a bar band,

you Know.
He was just havin' a good time,

and he wanted to keep
having a good time.

♪ Bottoms up ♪

I'm not sure that Kelly
thought he was good enough

to be in the band.

Kevin was always
telling him he wasn't,

so there was a whole lotta
frustration going on,

and Kelly was drinking
more and more and more.

♪ Say what you wanna say ♪

I mean, we all were.

The difference was,
Randy and I could go out

and get hammered one night,

but Randy always
practiced his parts,

always made it to the rehearsal
studio on time.

He always did what
he needed to do.

Kelly, on the other hand,
didn't.

They'd been listening
to tapes of the recording,

and Kevin was very critical
of Kelly's playing,

was critical especially of
some of the background vocals,

and basically had told Randy

that Kelly wasn't taking
it seriously enough,

and, for the first time,
Randy was kind of,

"You know, you might be right."

But I think Randy really
believed that he could go there

and talk to Kelly
and Kelly would change.

One night, Randy
wanted to confront him,

so he went over and took Kim
with him to confront Kelly

about all the problems
they were having

and tell him if he didn't
shape up, you know,

they were gonna have to get
somebody else to replace him.

Randy and I went over there,
and by the time we got there,

Kelly was already
pretty hammered,

and Randy was not comfortable
wanting to confront Kelly

about what was gonna happen,

so there was some real tension
in the room right away.

As the evening progressed,

it became more
and more confrontational.

Randy was pushing Kelly.

"You need to not drink.
You need to learn your parts.

You need to do what's necessary.
You need to cooperate.

You need to work hard."

It just got more
and more aggressive,

and finally Kelly just said,

"I wanna show you how
much I don't care."

And he pulled a gun
out from the sofa,

and Randy's like,
"What the hell are you doing?"

He aimed the gun
and started firing it off.

♪ Say what you wanna say ♪

That really pissed Randy off,

and Randy just took a run
at Kelly at that point

and just basically tackled him
and it was just total chaos.

You know, in retrospect,
it was a very tragic night,

and I know both of them felt
equally bad about it later.

I think Randy walked
in there with dreams

that his boyhood band
could make it as is,

and he walked out going, "Okay,
it's time to move forward.

Now I have to make
decisions for me.

I have to do the right
thing for my band."

It was a line
that was drawn, okay,

where Randy moved
from being in a garage band

to being in a professional band.

With Kelly outta the band,

they needed to find
a new bass player.

One of their first auditions
was with Nikki Sixx.

And Nikki,

at the time,
quite some time ago,

he couldn't even tune the bass.

Randy had to show him
how to tune the bass,

and he was trying
to show him songs,

but, you know, Nikki
had no formal training,

so he didn't know,
you know, Randy would say,

"This is in C" or "This
is in E" or whatever.

Nikki didn't know
what that meant.

Oh, you're kidding.

Was Nikki any
good at that time or?

Oh, really.

So we realized this isn't
gonna work because, you know,

Randy was a real virtuoso,
and he just couldn't be

playing with some guy who didn't
even know

you know, what key
things were in,

so we auditioned a few guys,
one of which was Ronnie Barron,

and the look didn't quite work.

It's hard to find somebody
who weighs less than 100 pounds

to stand next to Randy onstage.

Rudy had the look.
He was a solid player,

and he matched real
well on the pictures.

How did you find Rudy?

Unfortunately, Quiet
Riot never operated

like a band should.

It was one of the problems
I had with it from day one,

and part of it was
because Randy and Kelly

were so close together.

They grew up playing
together all the time.

Randy taught Kelly
how to play bass,

you know, bands, the way
they're supposed to work,

the drummer creates the time,

and then everybody
plays with that time.

But it didn't work that
way ever in Quiet Riot.

Kelly played with Randy.
Randy played with Kelly,

and I was just back there.
Nobody ever listened to me.

Drew Forsyth on drums!

So, Rudy brought
a different thing to the band.

Immediately was better.

He was a better musician
than Kelly by far.

The band became
more professional.

Doo-doo-den,
doo-doo-den, dun-dun-den,

dun-don da-da-den-den-den.

Actually, "Killer Girl",

it's the song that I had
to learn for my audition,

and I took it for granted that,

since the riff sounded
like a typical E,

in the key of E, riff, that
that's how the song went.

'Cause it's doo-doo-den,
doo-doo-den, right? Open string.

But no, it happened
to be an F song.

♪ The chicks in town
been runnin' around ♪

When I went in to audition,
started playing the song,

of course it was total cacophony

'cause I was playing it in
the wrong key, and, anyways,

I just had to transpose
everything really quickly,

but it felt really
comfortable, really good,

to be playing with really
polished musicians.

♪ Killer girls waitin'
in line for me ♪

"Killer Girls".
Very, very unique song.

And it's a very
well-crafted song.

It has a lot of not only key
changes but tempo changes.

You know, very, very
sophisticated, you know,

for a bunch of kids
from the valley.

But, you know,
Quiet Riot liked to do things

a little bit outside of the box.

We were not really a cover band
and that was very refreshing

because that's exactly
what I was looking for,

an original band.

We interrupt
this music to bring you

a special bulletin.

We've just received
information about the riot

that has broken out downtown.

The house lights
would go out in The Star wood,

and there were police lights.

We had these red police lights.

A young
singer, Kevin DuBrow.

The sirens would go.

A new person,
bassist Rudy Sarzo.

The place would be going nuts.

Guitarist Randy Rhoads.

You know, kinda creating
some kind of a riot or a chaos

right before the band
started to play.

Bassist Rudy Sarzo,

one man whose vibes would
be the cause of disturbance,

guitarist Randy Rhoads.

Collectively, they are
known as Quiet Riot.

The mobs are gonna be seen.

There's nothing like a little
sweat before you go on!

This is the part that
Quiet Riot gets to be nervous.

You know,
on the sound effect intro,

the mentioning our names
before we go out,

cameras, lights, action.

- Woo!
- Go on!

- Get "em, Kevin!
- Hal"

- Happy birthday!
- Thank you!

You know, we were doing great,

but we weren't doing
well as a business.

The TOBY organization sent
out demos all the time,

and they had
a relationship with Atlantic,

and the guy at Atlantic,
you know,

every couple of weeks
they'd send him something,

and we would get
a letter back each time,

and, you know,
which they'd say "pass",

"We're gonna pass
on these guys,"

but after like the 10th
time, he got a letter.

They sent a letter
back that said,

"Pass, pass, pass, pass, pass,
pass, pass, pass, pass.

In case you don't understand
what this means, pass!"

So, Atlantic was outta
the question for us.

That was never gonna happen.

We believed
we had a great band

that was gonna go out
there and really do something,

and then suddenly it was stuck,

you know, and it went from
the greatest of optimism to,

"What's happening next?
Where are we gonna go?

What's gonna happen
to the band?"

In 1979, Warren
Entner was out as their manager

and was replaced
by David Forest.

The pressure was building
as to whether Quiet Riot

could finally get a record deal.

I also happen
to manage this band, Quiet Riot,

which happens to be kind
of a weird phenomenon

'cause they don't
have a record deal,

and yet they're
drawing huge crowds.

They don't have
a record deal yet.

If they don't in
the next six months,

I doubt that they'll
stick together.

Punk and new wave
exploded on the music scene,

and bands like X and the Go-Go's
were getting more popular.

Those bands were
now being signed,

and we still weren't
getting any toehold

with the record labels.

The record company
were very short-sighted.

They were just focusing
on whatever happened

to be selling records at
that time in that certain spot,

which happened
to be new wave music.

After The Knack became very big,

they really shut the door on any

of the other rock
bands up and coming,

and we were going into
a record company and saying,

"Listen, we got this demo here,"

and the guy would say, pull
out Billboard magazine and say,

"Okay, if you guys
come up with a song

like 'Do You Think I'm Sexy'
by Rod Stewart,

I will have to check it out."

So, yeah, we would go out,
rehearse, record some songs,

go to a record plant, you
know, spend money and time,

go back to that guy
and, by then,

You Think I'm Sexy'
is off the charts.

It was like,
"Nah, that song is dated.

Come up with this other song."

You know, it was like we were
basically chasing our tails.

You're not working
for the record company.

The record company's
working for you.

They contract you to
make a record for them.

You basically sort of employ
them to release the record,

but when they're holding
the money,

what are you supposed to do?

You can't go down
there with a gun,

although God knows
we've all wanted to.

For the most of this last week,

we have been recording
some stuff here

in our never-ending
attempt to make

these American record
labels give us a deal.

And when I say never-ending,
you can count on the fact

that I mean
never-ending, all right?

All right!

♪ One in a million, baby ♪

♪ You're a lucky charm ♪

There was some push for us,
especially from management,

to do some things.

Like, "One in a Million"
is a perfect example.

It's a disco song.

Why are we doing this?
I don't know.

Gonna try anything
to get us signed,

SO we were trying
a lotta things that,

in retrospect,
weren't a great idea.

You have to do what you do best

and not worry
about anything else.

That's what you need
to do, and we never did that.

There were too many times
where we made exceptions.

"One in a Million" is a perfect
example of that.

We coulda given them
"Sgt. Pepper"

and it didn't matter.

We were not a new wave band,

so, out of desperation, I say,

"Hey, how about if
we take our fan club

and have them picket at
every single record company?"

I just said that, probably
the most ridiculous thing

I could come up with,
you know, just as a joke,

and Kevin said, "Wait a minute!

This sounds like a great idea!"

And I went, "Whoops!"

Fan club president
Lori Hollen wasted no time

getting the word out.

She was able to recruit
fans all the time,

so our fan club just kept
growing and growing and growing,

and in the days, you know,
before Facebook or MySpace

or anything like that,
she did an incredible job.

Everybody went
to Ron and Kevin's house,

and we printed T-shirts.

They were hanging on
the beds and the dressers

and all over the place.

We screened all these T-shirts
that said "Quiet Riot"

so that all the fans
could have a T-shirt on

while we picketed
the record companies.

We made big signs and banners

and got all the kids organized

at this park in Burbank.

And they went from record
company to record company

to record company trying
to get that band signed.

The idea was to make as
much noise as we could.

So we went to all the major
record companies,

Warner Brothers.

Carrying on to Capitol Records.

A&M.
— Elektra.

CBS and Century City.

Kevin had laid out the whole
route, and we've got signs

saying "Sign Quiet
Riot! Sign Quiet Riot!"

Kevin's ultimate idea was
to try to get

news coverage for this,
so he had a little schedule.

Unfortunately, on the first stop

in Burbank at Warner Brothers,

we didn't have
a permit to demonstrate.

We were chased out of there,

so the schedule was pushed
about half an hour ahead,

SO every time news
media was alerted

that the demonstration
was gonna happen,

they missed it by half an hour,

but eventually on the very
last stop at CBS Records,

they actually got to catch
the demonstration

and actually appear in the news.

We did get the news
people and we did get

on several of the news stations,

but if we'd had
a publicity agent

who could've really
got the people there,

that might've helped us.

Did we get a record deal? No.

But we got a hell
of a story out of it.

With no deal
on the table,

the future was uncertain
for Quiet Riot,

but for Randy Rhoads,

things were about to take
an unexpected turn.

Across town, singer Ozzy
Osbourne was holed up in a hotel

after being fired as the front
man of Black Sabbath.

The band had enough of
his out-of-control behavior

and sent him packing.

Down but not out, Ozzy
still wanted to make music,

and he came to Los Angeles
to find a lead guitarist.

After leaving Black Sabbath,

I've never, ever auditioned
anyone in my life

'cause Sabbath just
formed, we were mates,

so I didn't even know how
to go about auditioning.

Randy was familiar
with Black Sabbath,

but it wasn't his cup of tea.

And he used to tell
me, he used to go,

"I don't like Black
Sabbath very much.

"I know you do so we're not
gonna get into it," but he goes,

"Who the fuck would write
his name on his hand?"

He goes,
"I don't understand that."

Didn't care for Sabbath.

Thought it was
too dark and too sluggish.

Dana Strum.

That bass
player was Dana Strum,

and he had only one person
in mind for that audition.

I was calling Randy Rhoads
at his mother's music studio

in Burbank, Musonia.

And he said, you know,
"I'm here with a guy"

that wants to audition you.

"He wants you to be in his band.
This could be really big."

Just come down
but bring the shit

that you used at The Star wood.

If he doesn't get what
I get when I see what I see

from that balcony looking
down, then I really thought,

"I'm as wrong as could be
and I'm fucked and whatever,

but I have a feeling
there's no one

that isn't gonna get what I get

if you're put in
the right circumstance.”

And Randy said,
"Well, I teach here 'til 9:30,

10 o'clock at night,
I'm tired, I don't know,"

and then Dana said,
"Look, all right, trust me.

Something tells me
you need to do this."

Meeting Ozzy was
a freaky experience,

and I went to the hotel
and, as I opened the door,

I made my way through
50 Heineken bottles.

"I've got a list." He had
a list of guitar players.

I'm like, "Can I see the list?"

"Yeah."

He had no way to get there,
no plan, just hands me a list.

"We're gonna go
see these people?"

I said, "Well, I know
a few of these people. Nope."

I said, "But I have the guy."

And I met this bloke.

This guy introduced
me to Randy Rhoads.

He said, "This guy,
you gotta hear this guy play.

This guy's amazing."

Pulls out this little combo amp.

"Wait 'til you hear this."
He goes, "It's huge."

I said, "Let's hear Jesus now.
Let's hear the man now.

Let's hear the Messiah."

And he starts tuning
up and doing arpeggios.

I'm like, "Go, kid.
This is it."

And I remember Ozzy
went from the hair down to

almost stammering.

And I says,
"Just play something,"

and I thought I was dreaming
when I heard this guy play.

The guy was a little guy
with such a big, big sound.

And it just happened like that,

and I flew back to England
and I said to Sharon's father,

who was still
involved with us then,

"You gotta hear his playing!"

And he says,
"No, no, we'll find one here."

Meanwhile, Sharon
came from America,

and I said to Sharon,
"Please get me this guy,"

and Sharon went
back and got Randy.

I had an 18th birthday party,

and Quiet Riot came to my party,

and Randy and I were
strolling in behind everybody,

and he goes,
"Hey, Lori, come here.

I gotta tell you something."

I said, "What?"

He said, "Do you know
who Ozzy Osbourne is?"

And I said, "Is he that
guy in Black Sabbath?"

And he goes, "Yeah."

He said, "I auditioned
for him today."

I said, "You what?"

"All I did was
plug in my guitar,

and all I did was go
do-da-loo-da-loo-da-loo,

and he goes, "You're the guy'"

And I said,
"Well, what does that mean?"

And he goes, "Well, I'd
have to leave Quiet Riot

and go on tour with him,
what do you think?"

I said, "Well, Randy,
I think you should go

and make a name for yourself,

and you can always come
back and get Quiet Riot."

He gave it some great thought
and decided to go with them,

but I know he was in
horrible turmoil inside.

He really felt that he was
betraying the band,

especially Kevin.

He was scared to death
of having to walk up to Kevin

and say, "I'm leaving the band."

You know? He knew it was
gonna hurt Kevin really bad.

And I think that was probably
the hardest part of it,

but I don't think
there's any doubt

that it was
the right thing to do.

I'm sure Kevin was
obligated to try to save it.

I mean, who wouldn't?

When you're
in a band, you kinda feel like

you're all part of this machine,

and so it felt like
a betrayal of a sort.

I don't remember
exactly how I found out

that he was gonna
play with Ozzy.

What I do know is that
he didn't call me himself.

That was the thing that
I was most disappointed in,

was that he didn't make
the effort to call me,

after, you know, spending
all these years with him,

that he wouldn't pick
up the phone and say,

"Hey, you know,
this is what I'm gonna do,"

so I was disappointed in that
and his lack of character,

but I certainly understood why.

Part of the reason he moved on

was because of his writing
relationship with Kevin.

It was, you know, toxic to him.

He could not write

what he wanted to write
with Kevin.

The last gig
of Quiet Riot at The Star wood,

everybody...
was walking on eggshells

that night because nobody
really knew what was happening,

but they kind of knew,
and it was a very odd night.

And at that time, I knew that
that was the end of an era

for that band and that time.

The night before Randy left
to go to England to join Ozzy,

we all were at Randy's house
reminiscing about old times

and what it would be
like for him to go.

That night, I remember that
we just had fun, you know?

We had fun
like we used to have fun.

There are certain nights that
are snapshots for me of Randy.

I'm sure that's a night
that Randy probably put

in his pocket, and whenever
he felt homesick,

he could think
of a night like that.

I think it was
in September 1979,

I'm sitting in my apartment
in West Hollywood

getting ready
to go to a rehearsal,

and I get a call from Randy
out of nowhere,

and the phone rings
and he goes, "Frankie?"

And I go, "Randy?"
And he goes, "Yeah."

And he was, like,
very direct, right to the point.

He goes, "You wanna
go play with Ozzy?"

And I said, "Ozzy?"

He goes, "Yeah,
the Black Sabbath guy,"

and we drove to a rehearsal
studio that I knew.

It was Mars Rehearsal Studio,

and I walked in and set up
my 1969 green sparkle Ludwig kit

with a 38-inch gong
and everything,

and then I finally met
Mr. Ozzy Osbourne himself.

Right away, we started playing.

So the first song
we started working on

was the beginnings of what
became "Over the Mountain."

Randy was pretty much
running the rehearsal

in that Ozzy sat there
for the most part

and just looked
and nodded in approval,

and everything seemed
like it was gonna be a go,

but, as luck would have it,

I am told that
Jet Records had decided

that they were gonna record
in the UK rather than the US.

They were only gonna
bring one person over,

and the choice
hands-down was clear.

It had to be Randy.
It certainly wasn't gonna be me.

But I have wonderful
recollections of that

because I actually got
to be in the room with Randy

at the very, very beginning
of what turned out to be

a wonderful musical experience
for the world.

Then he came to England and
he lived with me in my house.

We lived together
for about a year

in my house writing songs.

It was Randy's
riff for "Crazy Train"

that would not only
jump start Ozzy's solo career,

but it would put Randy
on the map as a guitar legend.

"Crazy Train" was the first
single off the album

Blizzard of Ozz,
which was released in 1980.

I'll never forget
a memory I have,

and I'm crossing the street
in front of Warner Brothers.

There's about four cars
at the stop sign,

and I walked in front of them,

and every car was
playing "Crazy Train".

He was in a big band,

and he was being played
on the radio all the time.

The Blizzard of
Ozz line up was now complete

and featured
Ozzy Osbourne on vocals,

Bob Daisley on bass,

Lee Kerslake on drums,

and Randy Rhoads on guitar.

A huge commercial success,
Blizzard of Ozz was certified

four times platinum in the US,

went on to sell over
7 million albums worldwide.

I truly, truly believe that
Randy was the one element

that made it possible for Ozzy
to reach greater heights

than he even had
with Black Sabbath

which is unheard of.

Randy's influence
on a generation of guitarists

was felt immediately.

If it wasn't for him,

I wouldn't be playing
the way I do.

On top of the great
songs or the great riffs,

I mean, any Randy song,
you could take a riff,

and you play it and people know.

I remember, you know,
being, a...

gosh, I guess like
a 12-year-old kid

and like walking
up to my local mall

and going to the Music land

and buying
the Blizzard of Ozz cassette

and gettin' home
and poppin' it in

and hearin' "I Don't Know",
and it just like blew me away,

and I was like,
"This is like the coolest guitar

I've ever heard in my life,"

and it was really like
rock and roll perfection.

The playing was just
meticulous and unique.

I knew they were double

you know,
and tripling his solos,

which I know how hard that is.

These riffs and these
songs were really special

and gave such an amazing,
you know, template

for Randy to shine.

Right away, I thought, "Wow,
Ozzy's really done something"

'cause, you know, I'd been
a fan of Black Sabbath,

and I liked Ozzy

and he left and I really loved
when Black Sabbath got Dio,

and that was cool
but we kinda wondered,

"What's Ozzy gonna do now?"

In September, 1980,
the Blizzard of Ozz tour

kicked off in Europe
with a North American leg

soon to follow.

Is this
pretty close to the dream,

being with Ozzy

and starting out
with this magnificent stage?

But behind the scenes,
tensions were rising.

During a management dispute,
bassist Bob Daisley

and drummer Lee Kerslake
were fired

before the North
American tour started.

Back in LA,
Quiet Riot was struggling

without its lead guitarist.

There was a short
period of time there,

a couple of months probably
where we weren't certain

whether Randy was
gonna stay with Ozzy

and be a permanent thing

because he was kinda leading
us on that he would come back,

so there was a time of just,
you know, foundering,

and then after that we realized
he wasn't coming back.

Certainly, the Ozzy stuff shows
more where he wanted to be.

After Randy left
Quiet Riot to join Ozzy,

he returned to LA
and we did a reunion show.

I had cut my hair
and wanted to turn new wave,

just because,
you know, I had to eat.

I met this kid called Eddie.
He called me and said, "Hey."

You know, "Randy's
playing at the Whisky.

He's gonna be playing
with Kevin DuBrow."

I do remember we came back down

to the second level
of the Whisky,

and we watched Randy
come out and play.

He played a couple songs.

I can just remember today
that his guitar sound

just stickin' to my face.

He came back to do that show,

and the whole time
his demeanor is,

"Oh yeah, we're gonna
continue to do this,"

which I think he had no
intention

of continuing to do that.

It was great to have
Randy back playing with us,

but it was also very sad knowing

that it was gonna
be very short-lived.

When Randy left,
Kevin was a little bit deluded.

I think Kevin really
thought in his gut that,

at some point,
Randy was gonna come back

and play with him
in Quiet Riot again.

I mean, I really think
he believed that,

and I don't think there
was a chance in hell

that was gonna happen.

Randy had moved on.

Classical guitar
became Randy's focus.

He would spend hours
practicing after shows.

He would always
be doing his scales.

I could hear him
in the next room.

Doo-da-loo-da-loo-da-doo,
all day, every day.

Randy would say to me,

"I don't know if I'm doing
the right thing here."

He was quite apprehensive
about the whole thing

because he was studying
classical guitar,

and actually I think he felt
it was interrupting his studies

in a way.
- Right.

And I said, "No, this is great
for you, man."

You gotta do this, you know?"
And it's like, I think

I gave him the right advice.

On Blizzard of Ozz, Randy wrote

an incredible classical piece
dedicated to his mother, Dee.

It's a piece that's inspired
musicians for decades

and one that is often
covered in tribute to the man

that never stopped teaching.

One of the things
that Randy would always do

was we had support bands,
and they asked him,

"How do you get
that kinda sound?"

He would teach the other bands,

and he would give them
lessons always all the time.

He always had time
for musicians, always.

You know, I think another
thing that Randy did

was he made classical cool.

I'm the son
of two classical musicians,

and, you know,
I couldn't wait to get away

from learning cello
and piano when I was a kid

and play rock guitar,

and, you know, all of a sudden
when I heard Randy

and I was introduced
to the concept

of classical music being
quote-unquote "cool,"

it really made me
reevaluate everything

that I had been through.

Really trying to
figure out all of the parts

that were in "Revelation
",

if you've never
heard Randy's music

and this is one of the first
songs that you hear,

you'll notice a heavy
classical influence on that,

and he's playing acoustic guitar

and all the overdubbed parts
are all these puzzle pieces

that make it challenging
to figure out

what the voicing
is for each thing,

SO you can't necessarily figure
out an easy accompaniment.

I got into other kinds
of classical music

because of his playing.

| Randy's virtuoso
performance on Blizzard of Ozz

and his eclectic
style was making waves

in the music industry.

In 1981, he was presented
with the Best New Talent award

from Guitar Player Magazine.

It was a proud moment
for the kid from Burbank

to finally land
on the world stage.

Less than a year after
recording Blizzard of Ozz,

the group headed back
to the studio to begin recording

their follow-up album
Diary of a Madman,

but unlike Blizzard of Ozz,

where the band took their
time crafting songs,

Diary of a Madman was
recorded in just over a month.

Despite feeling
rushed in the studio,

Randy's neoclassical guitar
work reached new heights.

The complex music showcased
his ability to shred,

create great riffs,
and weave in classical themes.

You know, one of those players

that I personally
love listening to,

and I know a lotta people do,
where they're just not trying.

They're serving the composition,
for one, and secondly,

not trying to show off.

But he was really
pickin' his spots,

and he was very economical
in the way he played

and very smart
and served the song.

In support
of Diary of a Madman,

the group was gearing up
for their second concert tour.

Bob Daisley and Lee
Kerslake were replaced

with drummer Tommy Aldridge
and, on Randy's recommendation,

his former Quiet Riot
band mate, Rudy Sarzo, on bass.

It was a tour highlighted
by some moments

only Ozzy was capable of.

It was during a show
in Des Moines, Iowa

that a fan threw
a dead bat onstage.

Thinking it was a toy,

Ozzy picked it up
and bit its head off.

Then in San Antonio, Texas,

after yet another
night of drinking,

Ozzy was arrested for
relieving himself on the Alamo.

I remember
Randy was saying to me,

"Ozzy, why do you drink so much?

Why do you take so much dope?

Why do you get
stoned all the time?"

He never drank much.
He never took drugs at all.

He never smoked a joint.

He smoked cigarettes,
but that's about it.

He had the occasional drink,

but I was drunk
and stoned all the time,

and he would say to me,

"You know, Ozzy,
you're gonna die soon."

For Randy,
touring was exciting,

but he was in uncharted waters

as a guitar hero
in a heavy metal band.

The tour
was a huge success.

After weeks of playing
to sold-out venues,

they played what would
be Randy's last show

at the Knoxville Civic Coliseum
on March 18th, 1982.

After the gig,
they boarded their tour bus

and headed to Orlando, Florida
to play Rock Super Bowl XIV,

which featured Foreigner,
UFO, and Bryan Adams.

On the way to Orlando,
bus driver Andy Aycock

made a pit stop
in Leesburg, Florida

to fix a broken air
conditioning unit on the bus.

They pulled into the estate
of country singer Jerry Calhoun,

who was the owner
of Florida Coach.

Aycock lived on the property,

which housed an airstrip
and several small aircraft.

Aycock, who knew how to fly,
convinced keyboardist Don Airey

and tour manager
Jake Duncan to go for a flight.

He took the plane
without permission

and headed on a joy ride.

After buzzing
the bus several times,

they landed safely
and now Aycock wanted Randy

and makeup artist Rachel
Young blood to go for a ride.

Young blood had a heart condition
and was hesitant to go.

Although Randy
didn't like flying,

he agreed to it when Aycock
said he would do nothing risky

because of
Youngblood's condition.

Randy also wanted
to take some aerial photos

to send to his mother.

During the flight, Aycock
didn't stick to his word.

Instead, he buzzed
the tour bus several times,

flying at over
150 miles per hour,

and on his last attempt,
everything went wrong.

The plane's left wing
clipped the top of the bus,

sending the aircraft
spiraling outta control.

The plane hit the top of a pine
tree and burst into flames

after crashing into the garage
of the mansion.

Everyone on board was
killed instantly.

It's amazing in one
second how your whole life

can turn around, you know.

You go to bed on a bus
driving down a freeway,

and you wake up and you're
in the middle of a field

and there's a house on fire,

and there's bits of
airplane everywhere,

and people are like
running around screaming.

It's horrendous!

According
to police, the three were on

an early morning joyride after
staying up over 24 hours.

While some members of the
Ozzy Osbourne band slept

in their tour bus parked
next to the house,

the other three buzzed overhead,

circling the bus three times.

On the fourth time,
they didn't make it.

Is this really happening?

You don't think it's happening.

You don't think
it's not happening.

You can't understand
what's happening.

You're just kind of like
locked in a time lock,

and it's like horrible.

And you can't get out,
every time you turn around,

there's something worse
happening, you know,

and it's like being
in a battlefield, you know.

And I'm pretty sure
I heard about it,

I was listening to
the radio and they said it,

and as soon as I heard it,
I called Kevin

and he was crying.

He couldn't believe
that that happened.

And, of course, everybody
wanted to know what happened,

why, how. It's just a tragic
thing that happened.

Kevin was destroyed when
Randy died when he got the news.

I remember going to the funeral.

Kevin was one
of the pallbearers.

It was just awful. He was just
so upset and so depressed,

and it was a terrible,
terrible thing.

My heart went out
to his mother and his family

and to my own son,
who was so deeply affected

by having lost this friendship.

You know, it was very
hard for me personally

to carry on playing in Ozzy's
band after Randy's death.

Every time we went
onstage, it was, you know.

The memories, you know.

It was the same stage,
production, clothing.

Even the intro of the show
was Randy playing

Diary of a Madman,

and,

I don't know, I had become
very robotic onstage,

and the only way that I could
really survive the show

was just to shut down
and just, you know, play.

In 2004, Randy
received another honor.

He was inducted into
Hollywood's Rock walk of Fame.

Fans and fellow
musicians joined in

to celebrate his life
and legacy.

Today, we're here
to honor the memory

of an extraordinary musician.

He was a man that, during his
brief 25 years on this planet,

touched millions of people
just like you and me

with his talent
and he left a musical legacy

that will never,
ever be forgotten.

Randy was just 22
when he joined Ozzy

for the Blizzard of Ozz album.

He wrote many
of the songs on that record,

and after Blizzard of Ozz,
of course,

Randy went on to write
music for the next album,

Diary of a Madman,

And it's his work
on just these two albums

that have guaranteed
Randy Rhoads

a lasting place in rock history

and his induction today
into the Rock walk.

Ozzy Osbourne, folks.

It seems such a long time ago

that I played with Randy Rhoads,

and yet it seems so like
yesterday I knew him,

but what all I can say about
my memory of Randy Rhoads

is that I will never forget
as long as I live

that he was a small guy with
such an enormous, giant talent,

and he's so certainly
missed in my family,

and there's not a day goes by
without us thinking of him.

He'll never die in my heart.
He's there forever.

God bless Randy Rhoads.

I feel that,

in my heart, definitely
Randy and I were soul mates.

It's funny when you
talk about that "it" factor

and the presence that Randy had.

He'd enter a room and people
would just turn and look,

you know, and it was amazing,

but that wasn't what
made him who he was.

I mean, part of who
he was was the fact that,

it's like his talent,
it's like you're aware of it,

but it's not the big deal?

He was my friend and,

at the time,
we were just two guys

that were having a great time.

Randy had
celebrity, is what he had.

There are certain people
that just have that.

From the time I first met him,

you know, we would play a party

and thousands of people
would show up.

You know, at the time,
he was like, you know, 15.

It wasn't because he was
such a great guitar player

at the time but he had
celebrity, he drew people.

When somebody is a celebrity,
when they have that essence,

that light, everybody
gravitates to it.

They're like moths to the light,
and that's what Randy was.

When you're watching
the band on stage, you know,

all the audience gravitated
to that side of the stage

because that's
where the light was.

Randy was the light and everyone
gravitated to the light.

And Randy's
light continues to shine.

In 2021, he was recognized
for his contribution

to the music world

and was inducted into
the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

In a short time, Randy inspired
millions across the globe.

It's a legacy that
continues to this day.