Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath’s Final Concert Headed to the Big Screen

''Back to the Beginning'' film, which captures Osbourne's star-studded farewell gig, has been mixed in surround sound for stadium feel

Ozzy Osbourne in 2024.

Ozzy Osbourne‘s emotional goodbye to his fans will be the subject of the upcoming concert film Back to the Beginning, which will hit movie theaters beginning on Oct. 28. Osbourne headlined the star-studded Back to the Beginning concert, performing a solo set and one with the original lineup of Black Sabbath, in his hometown of Birmingham, England last July less than three weeks before his death.

Tickets for screenings go on sale at 10 a.m. ET on Sept. 24. Full details are on the Back to the Beginning website.

“Back to the Beginning came about because I asked Ozzy what would really make him happy,” Sharon Osbourne, Ozzy Osbourne’s wife and manager, said in a statement. “And he said the only thing that would make him happy was if he could perform again and say goodbye to his fans. That’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to say goodbye and thank you.”

The day-long concert at Birmingham’s Villa Park stadium featured performances by Metallica, Guns N’ Roses, Slayer, Pantera, Anthrax, Halestorm, Yungblud, and many others. The music director for the concert was Rage Against the Machine’s Tom Morello, who commented in a statement that “there’s never been a precedent for a show like this.” It all led up to Osbourne’s solo set and four songs by Black Sabbath.

“It was a closure for the band, and it was a good way to go out, I think,” Sabbath guitarist Tony Iommi said in a statement.

“To me it was like pure love,” the band’s bassist, Geezer Butler, said. “It was just a wave of love. It’s the only way I can describe it really. I mean I could feel it as if it is like tangible.”

“[I] felt completely at home in a place where I belong,” drummer Bill Ward said. “It almost felt like I was in a dream.”

Filmmaker Ben Wainwright-Pearce, whose credits include Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour and George Michael: The Faith Tour, directed the concert film. The live concert footage, which was livestreamed during the concert, was directed by Tim van Someren. The movie presentation will feature Dolby Atmos and 5.1 surround sound to bring the stadium feel of the performance to the big screen.

Rolling Stone praised the original concert in a review. “For all the false farewells and goodbyes in his career, there was something so final about this one that added a crushing poignancy to the night,” the magazine said. “The great tragedy is that so often such legends die before celebrations on this level can take place, yet by some great miracle or divine intervention Ozzy Osbourne was here to take his final bow with his own tribe.”

Stella Lefty onstage at Lollapalooza in Chicago. She'll play the country festival Stagecoach next year.

In May of 2026, an unusual thing happened. A single by an artist that few had yet heard of in Nashville debuted on the Billboard Country Airplay charts. The singer was named Stella Lefty and the song was titled “Boston,” which, for a genre that doesn’t have many songs about northern cities, was already a unique occurrence. It was also by a woman, another anomaly in the heavily male-skewed world of country radio.

What wasn’t unusual, however, was that “Boston” sounded familiar: It held enough melodic similarity to Noah Kahan’s “Stick Season” that the Vermont songwriter eventually had his name added to the writing credits as an approved interpolation. But on Music Row? Familiarity works. No one batted an eye.

“Country music,” as RJ Curtis, executive director of Country Radio Broadcasters, Inc., puts it, “has always borrowed from itself.”

Lefty kept rising. “Boston” flew up the charts and currently sits at Number Three on Country Airplay and Number Two on the Hot 100. By the time Nashville’s mecca of country music, CMA Fest, rolled around in June, Lefty was playing to a capacity crowd, and her tour dates started selling out one after another. Though a vocal part of the internet was lobbing allegations at Lefty of being a “nepo baby” or an “industry plant” because she is the daughter of Groupon founder and billionaire Eric Lefkofsky, the audience at her shows told a much different story. Young girls sung every word, and country fans hounded her to sign their “Lefty” hats, which she did diligently. For all the anger online, the people who went to see her sing live seemed to be having a pretty good time.

Two months later, a lot has changed. Lefty has been accused of multiple instances of plagiarism, with “Stella Thefty” memes popping up all over the internet. Beyond “Boston” and Kahan, music fans noticed a similarity between her song “Summer You Were Mine,” from Lefty’s debut LP Long Way Home, and the Chicks’ 1998 hit “There’s Your Trouble.” According to a representative for Atlantic Records, Lefty’s label, a streaming platform mistakenly left off the names of Tia Sillers and Mark Selby, the songwriters behind “There’s Your Trouble.” (Both now appear in the credits for “Summer You Were Mine.”)

Then, as Rolling Stone detailed, there was a series of other claims. Her 2025 track “Why Wouldn’t We” apparently mirrors Blake Shelton’s 2017 song “I’ll Name the Dogs,” while her song “Seven Eleven” sounds similar to Wheatus’ “Teenage Dirtbag.” Most recently, “Misery” from Lefty’s Tragic, Really EP, is being compared to “A Million Dreams” from the 2017 musical movie The Greatest Showman. Perhaps the most outlandish comparison is one asserting that “Summer You Were Mine” sounds like the theme song to Full House, a show that aired before Lefty was born. None of the writers of those songs have been credited or addressed by Lefty’s team thus far, nor is it clear if they need to be. (A rep for Lefty did not immediately respond to Rolling Stone‘s request for comment.)

Further accusations have ranged from reasonable to the irrational, with some claiming that Lefty is part of an AI experiment launched by her father — who runs a healthcare company that leverages AI to help cure cancer, which he started after his wife, and Lefty’s mother, was diagnosed with the disease. When Lefty performed at the Grand Ole Opry last month, some seized the opportunity to complain about Lefty’s appearance at the country institution in the comments of a video of her singing for kids in active treatment at St. Jude’s Children Research Hospital. There’s also been online chatter leaning toward the antisemitic (Lefty is Jewish), and other comments painting her as a thieving mastermind knowingly ripping off songs.

In Nashville, though, many are shaking their heads. While few would argue that an artist should use another’s material without credit, some industry insiders think that the degree of vitriol being directed at Lefty is unfounded — especially since country radio, and Top 40 as well, is often dominated by songs that sound very much alike. So much alike, that a YouTube account called Sir Mashalot once put together a mashup of six country songs, from male artists like Blake Shelton, Luke Bryan, and Cole Swindell, that all flowed into one another so seamlessly that it was nearly impossible to discern them.

Bro-country, the prevailing country trend of the 2010s, was defined by songs that were interchangeable, using the familiar signifiers of trucks, tailgates, and ladies in jean shorts, usually set to the same mid-tempo beat. And by 2023, rewriting old songs had become its own trend among country’s male contingent as “interpolation songs” dominated the charts. Swindell’s “She Had Me at Heads Carolina” re-created a portion of Jo Dee Messina’s 1996 hit “Heads Carolina, Tails California” — and won Song of the Year at the ACM Awards. Jake Owen redid Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” to “On the Boat Again.” Dustin Lynch and Jelly Roll turned Dobie Gray’s 1973’s hit “Drift Away” into “Chevrolet.” To be clear, these songs all credited the original writers, but they also lifted entire melodies and sonic patterns, with the artists transparently coopting the familiarity of the source-material songs to try and score easy airwaves success. But even without direct interpretations, country music has always borrowed, with male artists allowed to succeed under this model with little scrutiny.

“Let’s be honest, that’s been going on for years in this town,” Curtis says. “How many sounds and artists has Nashville begun mass producing once the original becomes popular?” Curtis points to the way new artists and songwriters come of age, “with access to an almost limitless musical universe,” he says. “Country. Rock. Pop. Hip-hop. R&B. Americana. Indie. EDM. Music from generations before them and music released halfway around the world yesterday. So when someone in a writing room says, ‘I want something that feels like that,’ ‘that’ could be almost anything.”

When you mature as an artist covering songs on TikTok — as Lefty has — that becomes even more prominent. The inspiration base isn’t a set of five or six CDs that an artist played while growing up, but rather an infinite scroll of melodies that come through their phone in 30-second blasts.

That applies to listeners too. Curtis points out that fans having limitless music available to stream makes them their own amateur musicologists. “We’ve probably never had more listeners capable of instantly recognizing, and pointing out, where they think they’ve heard something before,” he says. “There’s still a fine line line between influence and copying. There always has been.”

Ed Sheeran, who went to court in 2024 on claims that his hit “Thinking Out Loud” copied from Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” once explained it this way: “There’s only so many notes and very few chords used in pop music. Coincidence is bound to happen if 60,000 songs are being released every day on Spotify.” Sheeran ended up winning his case.

Nashville has come to Lefty’s defense more often than not. Kelsea Ballerini backed her up, and so has Luke Combs’ manager, Chris Kappy. Lefty played a number of shows at CMA Fest, and on Monday was announced as one of the performers at Stagecoach 2027, with her name on the same line of the poster as Shaboozey and outlaw-country songwriter Cody Jinks. She also continues to stream globally, with tens of millions weekly.

Leslie Fram, a country music executive who leads the artist-development company FemCo, finds the “intensity” of the backlash to be out of proportion. “Country and pop-country have always worked with a fairly limited palette of chords and melodies. Similar progressions, familiar hooks, and shared lyrical DNA show up across decades of hits,” Fram says. “Plenty of songs have echoed older ones without anyone rushing to file claims. Sometimes it’s pure coincidence. Other times an artist absorbs something they’ve played or covered so many times that it surfaces without them even realizing it. When a clear similarity is noticed, the professional path is straightforward: clear the interpolation and give the proper credits. That’s exactly what happened with the Chicks and Noah Kahn references.”

To her credit, Lefty did act swiftly to rectify the publishing credits when it came to “Boston” and “Summer You Were Mine,” but comments she made to Vanity Fair in which she claimed to not be thinking about Kahan while writing didn’t do her any favors. Dr. Jada Watson, a musicologist, does see some similarities in the other songs Lefty is accused of copying, but says that once a pattern is established, it’s easy to start questioning a writer’s practice.

“One accusation of this nature leads to fishing expeditions,” Watson says. “Unfortunately, the similarities are there to find. There are legitimate reasons for scrutiny in each of these cases. But misogyny can shape the intensity and character of that scrutiny: women, especially young women, are more likely to become the subject of the kind of listening expedition where finding the next similarity becomes a game.”

Watson thinks the conversation should not just be about Lefty’s practice, but also about the larger issues at play. Namely, who gets to inherit traditions in country music. “Lefty makes several forms of inheritance unusually visible at once: extraordinary financial resources, access to the institutional machinery that can protect and sustain a career, entry into a genre whose ideas of authenticity and belonging have historically been shaped by race, gender, and class, and, quite literally, access to the music that came before her,” she says. “The point isn’t that any one of those things makes her undeserving. It’s that not everyone gets to inherit — or to make use of what they inherit — on equal terms.”

Fram warns against dismissing an artist’s career because of song soundalikes. “Throwing out an entire catalog because a few tracks share DNA with older records treats familiarity as a fatal flaw. Follow that logic far enough and a huge amount of popular music disappears,” she says, chalking up much of the vitriol directed at Lefty to “class resentment.”

To be sure, having a billionaire father in an age where financial inequality is more stark than ever opens Lefty’s career up to scrutiny. And her family’s extreme wealth should make it easy for her to navigate any number of legal complications that may come, while also affording her the luxury to make music without day-to-day worries. What it doesn’t mean, though, is that Lefty is able to buy fans. Money isn’t putting people in concert seats; the songs are. (As manager and music publisher Tracy Gershon puts it, “Good is good.”) But because the fans in those seats are primarily young women, it’s often easy for the public to dismiss their taste in an artist as invalid.

“I manage artists,” Comb’s manager Kappy wrote on Instagram. “I have become very successful and have money. Success isn’t based on money, or every act I manage would be in arenas and stadiums because I would just buy it. That’s the problem with all of your arguments and stupid comments. Yes, they are stupid, you need to hear the truth. No amount of money buys success, it’s the music.”

Curtis, however, is deflated that all of this talk around Lefty’s alleged song-poaching is taking away from what he sees as a defining highlight of 2026. “Isn’t it disappointing that this Stella blowback is even a story, in the midst of an historic year for female artists in country music, and a week where females dominated the CMA nominations?” he says. “For me, that is the real story.”

Noel Gallagher with fellow Manchester City fans during a Premier League match between City and rivals Manchester United

Noel Gallagher returned to his favorite press outlet — U.K. sports radio — to drop a few tidbits about Oasis’ 2027 tour amid a much more robust chat about soccer and his beloved Manchester City.

Speaking with talkSPORT host Andy Goldstein, Gallagher revealed that he and his brother Liam knew almost immediately that their hugely anticipated (and hugely successful) 2025 reunion tour wouldn’t be a one-off. Asked when they decided to do a second tour, Gallagher said it was after their second show at Wembley Stadium in London, just a few weeks into the trek.

“Nobody really knew what was going to happen… well, you can see it in the documentary,” Gallagher said, referring to the new film about the reunion tour, Oasis: Don’t Look Back in Anger. “But nobody really knew how it was gonna go, so we did Cardiff and Manchester, and then by the time we got to Wembley, somebody said, ‘Well, you know…’ And it was decided that we were gonna do it. And it was all set in motion then.”

Part of the reason for the quick decision, Gallagher added, was that Oasis wanted to make sure they brought the show to their fans in Europe, which was skipped entirely during the 2025 tour. “We couldn’t not do Europe,” he said. “Our fans in Italy, and France, Germany, Spain, and Holland have been great with us down the years… so there was always a plan to do that.” (The 2027 run includes multiple shows in all of those countries.)

From there, the itinerary snowballed. Gallagher said Oasis was supposed to play Las Vegas and Boston in 2025 “but couldn’t for some reason,” so they added it to the 2027 tour. Then, they figured, why not do Knebworth Park, where the band famously played in 1996 as part of the Knebworth Festival.

“We were having such a great time that… why wouldn’t you?” Gallagher said.

Nevertheless, Gallagher was noncommittal when asked if he thought he’d want to keep going with Oasis after the 2027 tour. “I dunno,” he replied.

And when asked the obvious, eternal follow-up about a possible new Oasis album, he replied, “There won’t be any new music.” When Goldstein asked if Gallagher wanted to “talk more about it,” the musician cheerfully replied, “No,” before happily chatting at length about soccer.

Oasis will kick off their 2027 tour with five gifts at Celtic Park in Glasgow, Scotland next May. A lengthy run in the band’s hometown of Manchester, England, will be followed by stops in Germany, Spain, Netherlands, France, and Italy. After their Boston and Vegas shows in August, Oasis will close out with two shows in Ireland, followed by that run at Knebworth in September.

It's been a dizzying year for Angine de Poitrine, the Saguenay, QC band who shot to fame within the last few months, thanks to their over-the-top costumes, strong sense of anonymity and polka-inflected microtonal math-rock. They can count nearly every rockstar on Earth as a fan, from Canadian prog-rock veterans Rush to Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, who has a tendency to fly out to see the band perform whenever he can.

Last night, the duo reached another milestone by making their American TV debut on late-night's biggest stage, Jimmy Fallon's Tonight Show. To mark the occasion, Angine de Poitrine premiered a new song, titled "Zugzegk".

Though not featured on their latest album, Vol. II, the song sounds like it would have its place on a deluxe edition, with its tortuous time signatures that relents into a boppy, surf-rock chorus before going back to their signature complicated harmonies on the double-necked guitar.

Angine de Poitrine are currently wrapping up an American tour before going back to Europe. They come back to Canada in November for shows in Toronto, Québec City and Montréal.

TikTok influencer Gabbie Gonzalez in a Los Angeles court on July 23

TikTok influencer Gabbie Gonzalez, her father, and her ex-boyfriend pleaded not guilty in a California courtroom Monday to charges they plotted to kill Why Don’t We singer Jack Avery with a paid assassin recruited on the dark web.

Los Angeles County prosecutors say the trio conspired to kill Avery amid a bitter and prolonged custody battle over Gonzalez’s seven-year-old daughter with the boy-band singer. Gonzalez, 25; her father, Florida lawyer Francisco Gonzalez, 59; and Hawaii-based surf instructor Kai Faron Cordrey, 26, appeared in court while out of custody on varying conditions. Each is charged with the same three counts of attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and solicitation of murder.

“Yes, your honor,” Gabbie told the judge when asked whether she agreed to postpone her next hearing until Nov. 18. She otherwise remained silent during the proceeding and declined to answer media questions afterward.

“There are two sides to every case, and thus far, the public has heard only one. We are confident that when the evidence is presented, tested, and placed in its proper context, a very different picture of Gabriela and this case will emerge,” her lawyer, Elliot R. Zarabi, said in a statement after the arraignment.

In a prior court filing asking that Gabbie be allowed to see her daughter while the case is pending, Zarabi argued his client “played a comparatively limited role in the alleged conduct,” with the “primary operational aspects” of the alleged scheme purportedly carried out by Cordrey.

“Much of the evidence against Ms. Gonzalez derives from statements made by Cordrey himself, a charged co-defendant, with every incentive to shift blame and minimize his own conduct,” Zarabi wrote to the court. He claimed prosecutors lacked “direct evidence showing that Ms. Gonzalez hired a hit man, negotiated a killing, transmitted cryptocurrency, communicated with undercover operatives, or directly engaged in operational planning.”

Prosecutors, meanwhile, say Gabbie and her family viewed Avery as “the obstacle to their desired control” over the child. Gabbie and her father’s alleged conduct “escalated from family-court litigation and efforts to discredit Jack, to surveillance and attempted third-party intimidation, and ultimately to a funded murder-for-hire plot designed to remove Jack permanently,” Deputy District Attorney Alexander Bott wrote in a July 22 court filing obtained by Rolling Stone.

Lawyers for Cordrey and Francisco did not immediately respond to Rolling Stone’s requests for comment on Monday.

Prosecutors allege that between October 2020 and May 2021, Gabbie “repeatedly discussed wanting Jack Avery dead,” and that she enlisted Cordrey to help. They say Gabbie and Cordrey discussed using bitcoins on the “dark web” and how they hoped to make the hit “appear to be an accident.”

According to the felony complaint, Gabbie’s father allegedly sent Cordrey $10,000 in April 2021 to find and hire someone to kill Avery. Prosecutors say Cordrey moved the money into a Gemini cryptocurrency account and began communicating with a dark web murder-for-hire account under the alias “LizardKing69.” On May 22, 2021, Cordrey allegedly identified Avery as the target, provided a Los Angeles address for his location and said Avery could be killed by whatever method was easiest, including a shooting or staged incident, the complaint states.

The account administrator allegedly demanded another $4,000 on June 4, prompting Cordrey to go back to Francisco for more money. Days later, Cordrey allegedly pressed for Avery to be killed within a couple of days, the complaint states.

Prosecutors say the plot continued into September 2021, when an undercover FBI agent posing as a hit man spoke with Cordrey by phone. Cordrey allegedly identified Avery as the target and discussed payment and proof of death. In a later call, Cordrey allegedly said Gabbie wanted Avery killed and that Francisco could pay for it. Prosecutors say Francisco then contacted the undercover agent using the password “Bullrun” and discussed a previous bitcoin payment.

More than a year later, on Oct. 20, 2022, Gabbie allegedly spoke with Cordrey on a recorded call about the supposed hit man and “how to respond to the threat of exposure,” according to the complaint. She also allegedly said she could talk to her father because “he had been handling most of it.”

If convicted as charged, all three defendants face 25 years to life in state prison, prosecutors say.

A few days before the wild case was made public in May, Avery sought a civil restraining order in Los Angeles County Family Court, saying he had known about the alleged murder-for-hire plot since 2021. “I was notified by the FBI that a hit man was hired to kill me,” Avery wrote in a declaration.

The singer said a detective told him that Gabbie had been arrested on suspicion of attempted murder and was in police custody. Their daughter had been placed with a foster family, he said, and he rushed to pick her up. He claimed Gabbie’s relatives had been calling and texting him “relentlessly” demanding to know where the child was. Two women he identified as Gonzalez’s friends allegedly showed up at his Southern California home, banging on the door and ringing the bell while looking for the girl.

He said the FBI warned him “it was not safe” to be around Gabbie and that he remained “very aware of the safety risks” whenever he arranged visits with his daughter.

“I continued to travel to see [my daughter] and had to learn to manage my own fears and anxiety,” Avery wrote in his petition for a civil restraining order against Gabbie. “I did so because of how important [my daughter] is to me and out of serious concern for her safety and well-being.”

In certain corners of the internet, Carly Rae Jepsen is not just the woman behind the immortal 2011 hit “Call Me Maybe,” but a bard of pop excellence. Her fans will say she has penned at least five of the century’s best pop songs (though no one can agree on which). She is considered the Canadian equivalent to the Down Under disco queen Kylie Minogue by some, and recalls a young Taylor Swift for her unabashed earnestness. Across her vast discography, she writes, almost exclusively, about this crazy little thing called love, delivering endearing declarations of running away together and bold breakup anthems in her syrupy-sweet voice.

Jepsen’s instinct to follow her heart, whether it’s toward new love or to experiment with an untouched genre, has always been her greatest asset. Her latest record Day and Night isn’t just a double album; it’s also a travelogue — musically and lyrically — of love, some of which is inspired by her romance with producer Cole M.G.N., whom she married last year. From cotton-candy afternoons flecked with Balearic influence to two-stepping sunset soirees and blissed-out bossa-nova confessionals under a twilight sky, it’s Jepsen’s most experimental and exhilarating work, and she makes falling in love feel brand-new all over again.

The Day side of the album draws from silky genres like dream pop and folk pop, where she sounds like she’s on cloud nine. The nu-disco “Habits of Creatures” establishes Jepsen’s desire for stability (“Gimme some more of the same,” she sighs as the synths, which mimic a familiar Todd Terje track, pirouette toward the heavens), and on “Soft,” she lets her guard down and twirls into her lover’s arms. Night jets off to clubs across the globe, where she gets more direct with her desires. There’s the deep house “Near or Far,” the sexy, sample-heavy “Never Let a Good Thing Die,” and a whole lot of disco (this is a Carly Rae Jepsen album, after all). “Don’t Leave Me on the Dance Floor” is a sing-so-hard-you-cry proclamation, where each repeat of the song’s title, from sky-high shouts to cellophane-thin coos, feels like the difference between life and death. “Don’t leave me in the dark to face another song alone,” she beckons to her lover on the metallic chorus, concurrently recalling French touch and ABBA.

Day and Night is a never-ending honeymoon as she saunters through a variety of serene tableaus, like the beach sway of “Blue Skies” or the opulent bacchanal that is “Versailles.” The latter track takes overt inspiration from Sofia Coppola’s 2006 film Marie Antoinette, as Jepsen beckons her love to engage in life’s vices with her, like marring bedsheets with fruit stains and dashing nude through the garden. The record was chiefly produced by Jepsen mainstay Kyle Shearer, who provides Day and Night‘s most danceable tracks, while Bullion, CJ Baran, Magnus Lidehäll, and more, make appearances too. Most notably, M.G.N. co-wrote and produced several songs, including the bubbly ode to family “Motivation” and “Just a Little Walk on the Moon,” which dabbles in bossa nova and acts as a fairytale closer to Day and Night’s first side.

With Jepsen, it’s all about love, all the time, from the dazzling highs to the devastating lows. To her, there’s no shame in airing out your baggage and confessing your feelings in a single song. Night closer “Super Sage” starts with Jepsen nervously pacing, worried she’s driving her lover to the brink as synths pile and pan like spiraling anxieties. Then suddenly, ­“Super Sage” rockets to the psychedelic-pop cosmos. The tempo picks up, synths undulate like a sine wave, and it all mimics that rush of heat one feels when they’re about to confess everything. Despite the Edenic imagery painted throughout Day and Night, Jepsen’s repeated gasps of “I love you” make for the album’s most romantic and vulnerable moment, full of stark intensity. Seven years ago, on Dedicated‘s “Real Love,” Jepsen screamed to the clouds about wanting genuine connection. On Day and Night, it sounds like she’s found it.