"How the hell did you replace Ozzy Osbourne in Black Sabbath?" Ronnie James Dio's autobiography recounts insecurity and threats

Ronnie James Dio had one of the most difficult tasks in the history of heavy metal: replacing Ozzy Osbourne as the frontman of Black Sabbath . Now, fans of the legendary singer can discover the behind-the-scenes story, from his first meeting with the band to the composition of "Children of the Sea" alongside Tony Iommi , in the vocalist's own words.

The autobiography Rainbow In The Dark , written almost entirely by Dio during his lifetime and completed by Wendy , the musician's wife, alongside journalist Mick Wall over the last decade, with material from interviews and notes by the artist, will be released internationally this Tuesday , July 27th.

In Brazil, the book will be released on August 31st by the publisher Estética Torta, with approximately 350 pages and a luxury finish: hardcover, spot varnish, and trilateral painting. The book is already available for pre-order , and an excerpt about this important moment in the artist's life has been released to fans as a preview. Read it below.

Meanwhile, Wendy had befriended Sharon Arden , who would soon become Sharon Osbourne. Sharon was working for her father, Don Arden , one of the most fearsome businessmen in the music world. In the UK, he was known as Mr. Big. Don liked to boast about his connections to the mafia, liked people to know he carried a gun, and had several catchphrases he liked to use, such as "Try your luck." Particularly, that's what the phrase implied if you were foolish enough to cross Don.

Don made his money managing artists as diverse as Little Richard, Gene Vincent, The Animals, The Small Faces, ELO , and now Black Sabbath, to name just a few. He was so wealthy that he lived in a huge mansion in Beverly Hills that had once belonged to Howard Hughes. Sharon lived with Don in the mansion. It was through Wendy's connection with Sharon that I was invited to meet the guys from Sabbath. Everything went very smoothly and politely; when we left, I didn't think about it anymore. They were preparing to make their next album with Ozzy, and I was still thinking about my next move.

Then fate decided to lend a hand. One night, I was at the Rainbow when the tall, taciturn Sabbath guitarist, Tony Iommi, arrived. I liked Tony immediately. I knew he was the musical leader of Sabbath, the mastermind behind some of the most classic guitar riffs in rock history. We started talking and discovered that we were both thinking about doing a solo album. Tony confided in me that the band had just kicked Ozzy out. Ozzy was the first to admit that he was his own worst enemy at that time, a period when his alcohol and drug use was completely out of control. He was hardly the only rock star to suffer this fate. Tony explained that the band's bassist and most frequent lyricist, Terry "Geezer" Butler , was also going through some family problems. Hence Tony's inclination to consider some kind of solo project.

At that moment, I wanted to experiment with ideas and suggested a possible collaboration. Maybe yes. Maybe no. Someday, perhaps. Who knows, nothing serious. The next thing I remember is being in the back of Tony's limousine on the way to a studio in Los Angeles, where he wanted to show me and play this "song idea," but was having trouble finishing it without a vocalist and some lyrics. When he pressed play on the console, I couldn't believe what I was hearing! This wasn't some improvised idea that still needed a ton of work. This was, in its own right, the beastly Sabbath!

It began melancholic and incandescent, with agile acoustic guitars, enhanced by magical guitar passages. Then, suddenly, after about 40 seconds, there they were, bursting from the speakers like a lightning storm, the ultimate monstrous riffs. No other guitarist in the history of rock could have come up with anything like it. Heavy, pure, yet still shining like a beacon. Before the song was halfway through, before Tony could ask what I was thinking, I was already scribbling down the words that came to me immediately.

“In the misty morning, on the edge of time, we've lost the rising sun, a final sign…”.

So there I was, singing into the microphone, Tony doing the sound, a huge smile etched on his face. It was the first thing Tony and I had written together, and it was one of the best. We called it “Children of the Sea,” and the first time we played the demo, in the early hours of the following morning, we both knew. This is what we were going to do next, no matter what.

Initially, the conversation was about me working with Tony on his solo album. That notion quickly dissipated as we created more and more incredible music together. With Ozzy definitely gone and Geezer starting to recover from his family crisis, Tony and Bill took the next logical step and invited me to join Black Sabbath. The truth is, he never wanted to end Sabbath. He simply couldn't see how they could continue without Ozzy.

I admit that, initially, I avoided the expectation. I was desperate to do my own thing again, after years of working under Ritchie Blackmore's rules. I also wasn't sure how the hell I was supposed to replace Ozzy Osbourne in Black Sabbath. Unlike later years, when groups like Van Halen, Bad Company, Iron Maiden , and even Queen , managed to bring in a new frontman with impunity, in the late 1970s, the idea of a world-famous band like Sabbath replacing its frontman was considered unthinkable. Led Zeppelin without Robert Plant, Rolling Stones without Mick Jagger ? Sacrilege.

The fact that I was already well-known to rock audiences as the singer for Rainbow was a double-edged sword, in my view. I could, in the end, alienate both Sabbath and Rainbow fans. On the other hand, in Tony's opinion, bringing in a new vocalist, whom nobody had ever heard of, was a much greater risk. Tony told me he was sure I was capable of being the replacement. Well, vocally, certainly. Ozzy was a great frontman, but a great singer? Not really. But Ozzy was Sabbath, as far as legions of fans around the world were concerned. How could they like the American guy from Rainbow, no matter how well I could sing?

Someone who definitely didn't think I was up to the job was Don Arden, who went crazy when he found out what Tony had done, threatening all sorts of retaliation. Don knew very well, however, that the situation with Ozzy was no longer sustainable. It had also been years since that lineup had had a record of success in the United States. At one point, he even suggested that I write with Tony and sing on the album, but that they take Ozzy on tour.

When Tony told Don where he could shove that stupid idea, that was the end of Sabbath, as far as Don was concerned. He cancelled the lease on the house he was renting to them and sold the business management contract to a guy named Sandy Pearlman, then manager of Blue Öyster Cult, one of the many American bands of the 1970s to be directly influenced by Sabbath's pioneering work. He then told Sharon to start managing Ozzy as a solo artist: the beginning of a long and relentlessly winding road that deserves its own book.

However, to be fair to Don, I wasn't entirely convinced either. What ultimately tipped my hand was the sheer quality of the songs Tony and I were writing. That, plus the fact that Tony assured me it wouldn't be like my situation in Rainbow, where Ritchie was the boss, period. If I joined him in Sabbath, it would be as a partner with an equal voice, both musically and in terms of business.

The decisive argument, in truth, was when Wendy picked me up and said, quite frankly: “Ronnie, we have less than 800 dollars in the bank, we need to do something!”

Wendy was right, of course. She always was. I called Tony: “Okay, man, I’m in. When do we start?”