What is this? It's music to get a brain seizure by.

“What is this? It’s music to get a brain seizure by.” Thus cried Ozzy Osbourne, prince of heavy sound and herald of the raw edge of art. His words, at once jesting and biting, reveal a deeper truth about music and its power to overwhelm. For here he speaks not only of noise that rattles the senses, but of the kind of sound that confuses, unsettles, and even harms when it abandons harmony for chaos. This is not the uplifting song of the soul, but the reckless storm that strikes with force yet leaves the spirit without nourishment.

The origin of this saying lies in Osbourne’s own world—a world steeped in the ferocity of heavy metal, where music was meant to provoke, to awaken, to shake men from complacency. He knew well the difference between sound that is loud yet ordered, and sound that collapses into frenzy. His words, whether spoken in jest or in frustration, shine as a warning: when music abandons its sacred balance, it ceases to elevate and instead becomes a torment, a seizure of the senses rather than a liberation of the soul.

History itself confirms this lesson. In the ancient days of Plato, the philosopher warned that when music loses its discipline, when it turns from harmony to disordered novelty, it threatens not only the ear but the very state itself. Plato understood, as Ozzy himself implied, that music is not a neutral force—it is a weapon, a medicine, or a poison depending on how it is used. For the same drumbeat that can inspire courage in battle can also, when corrupted, stir chaos and madness in the mind.

Consider also the story of the French Revolution, where street songs and wild chants fueled the mob. These were not gentle hymns of unity, but frenzied cries, shaking the soul into hysteria. The people, intoxicated by sound, cast down thrones and spilled rivers of blood. Here we see that music, stripped of balance, can seize not only the brain of one man, but the heart of a whole nation, pulling it toward destruction. Osbourne’s words echo across centuries as a reminder of such dangers.

Yet his quote also carries an irony, for Ozzy himself was a master of chaos, walking the thin line between madness and brilliance. He knew that sometimes music must shock, must shake, must rattle the chains of convention in order to wake the sleeping soul. But even then, there is a warning: if the storm never resolves, if the frenzy never leads to meaning, then it devours rather than delivers. Music at its best should not bring seizures, but awakenings; not confusion, but clarity through power.

The lesson for us, then, is to discern the sounds we let into our lives. Ask: does this music strengthen me, or weaken me? Does it awaken courage, or merely numb the senses? Not all that is loud is powerful, and not all that is shocking is meaningful. Seek sound that builds, that shapes, that uplifts—even if it is fierce. Flee from sound that leaves you broken, disoriented, and diminished. For what enters the ear soon enters the soul.

Therefore, let each person act with wisdom. Choose your music as you would choose your food or your companions—with care, with discernment, with reverence. Create music, if it is yours to create, that may shake but not destroy, that may stir but also heal. For when sound becomes poison, it is no longer art but affliction. And when sound becomes truth, it is no longer mere noise, but prophecy.

So let Ozzy Osbourne’s words stand, not only as a quip, but as ancient teaching: “It’s music to get a brain seizure by.” Hear in them both warning and challenge. Do not allow the chaos of the world to drown your spirit with empty noise. Instead, seek the songs that electrify your soul with power, yet leave you stronger, wiser, and alive. For music is the fire of mankind—but like fire, it must be tended lest it consume rather than illuminate.