The First Time I Heard Crazy Train

Certain songs conjure deep memories. I was a teenager the first time I heard “Crazy Train”. It was in the mid-90s, so the song wasn’t new to the world, just to me. One of the many beautiful things about music is that it finds us when we’re ready.

My brother and I were aimlessly assassining down the avenues of Colorado Springs, a favorite pastime. I recall sitting in the passenger seat of his Chevy Beretta while rocking along to whatever was spinning on KILO 94.3.

Then it happened.

I was captivated from the moment the signature lick dropped in over the rhythmic punches of the intro to the creepy cackling in the outro. If hard rock guitar playing was akin to English literature, then surely I must have been listening to the Bill Shakespeare of shredding.

Or maybe it was the devil.

Stacks of memorable riffs, wild feedback, epic pick slides, screeching harmonics, lightning-fast pull-off licks, and finger-tapping whammy bar goodness. These devices embodied the sophisticated heavy metal vocabulary that was melting my greasy, adolescent face off.

Each section seemed like perfection. Each transition scorched the earth behind it while driving toward an uncertain future. At the time, I had no idea I was listening to Ozzy Osbourne, and I certainly didn’t know I was listening to the guitar pyrotechnics of Randy Rhoads. All I knew was that the sound blasting from those factory-installed speakers was fucking me up.

I immediately wanted another hit.

But I was shit out of luck. In those days, if the DJ didn’t announce the song, you had no choice but to wallow in mystery. I couldn’t even call the radio station. This cosmic event pre-dated the digital age, where every teenage suburbanite had a cellphone.

So I waited.

Discovering the Prince of Darkness

In my limited circle, it was common knowledge that Ozzy Osbourne was an agent of the devil who bit the heads off bats to get his kicks. His notable antics include:

• Founding member of Black Sabbath

• Bit the head off of a living dove at an industry event.

• Banned from San Antonio for a decade for pissing near the Alamo

• Snorting a line of live ants because Nikki Sixx didn’t have any cocaine

In my small corner of the world, Ozzy’s reputation preceded him. I was aware of his mythology before I was aware of his music.

I miss mystery.

The Unholy Trinity

Eventually, I assembled the pieces of my musical scavenger hunt. I learned that “Crazy Train” was on Ozzy’s solo debut, Blizzard of Ozz.

I purchased the CD with my busboy money. I soon began taking guitar lessons from a guy who was well-versed in the ways of Randy Rhoads. He turned me on to Diary of a Madman and Tribute.

The unholy trinity was complete.

I felt like I was doing something audacious and naughty. Colorado Springs was known for its evangelical tendencies, and Ozzy was a man of contemptible reputation.

It was forbidden fruit.

I spent many hours listening to those records. Much of the allure was fueled by the guitar stylings of Randy Rhoads.

Discovering Randy Rhoads

Randy Rhoads was one of my early musical crushes. His playing was haunting, moody, epic, and really fucking fast. It left a lasting impression. He brought classical elements to heavy music and helped pioneer a neo-classical flavor of metal.

Listening to the guitar playing of Randy Rhoads reveals a hard-earned understanding of the materials that make for memorable music. Sadly, his life was cut short when he died in a plane crash at the age of 25, but not before his musical gifts resonated with the world.

Going Off the Rails: A Crazy Train Spin-Off Story

I played in a working band when I was in college, mostly bars, military bases, and private events. One of our more unusual gigs was a birthday party for twin 12-year-old girls, which took place during a blizzard (possibly of Ozz).

It must have snowed 12 inches that day.

The booking agent told us that the birthday girls wanted to hear “Crazy Train”, which surprised me. But what really surprised me was that those kids wanted to hear it again and again. It was akin to the “Rawhide” scene in Blues Brothers.

We must have played it six times.

Years later, I would recall that evening while playing at a backyard high school graduation party for a small group of visually impaired teenagers and their parents. Between songs, a keen young man smirked his head in my direction and asked, “So what’s the second most awkward show you ever played?”

For someone who couldn’t see, he saw plenty.

My Crazy Train Cover

Stylistically speaking, my “Crazy Train” cover is in stark contrast to the original. The original is an uptempo hard rock number that prominently features the electric guitar as it chugs along in the key of A. My version is a mid-tempo shuffle that calls for togetherness in an overwhelming world as it strolls along in the key of C.

Same brush, different painter.

It all happened organically. I was strumming my Martin D-15 (capo III) and saw the same chord shapes used in “Crazy Train.” After fumbling around with some half-baked melodies of my own, my mind made the connection. I started crooning “Crazy Train,” and it felt great.

I was a bit nervous when I decided to document such a classic song. Fortunately, the feedback I received in the aftermath was positive. I’m proud that I was able to make it my own.

When done right, a cover song is familiar but fresh. It’s like collecting dividends on an investment made years prior. Such is the power of a universal classic.