The studio lights at A&M Records in Hollywood caught something different in 1991 — Ozzy Osbourne hunched over a mixing desk, arguing for a bass line Bob Daisley had laid down three takes earlier. The singer wanted that specific growl, the one that made the floor vibrate, and he wasn't about to let anyone smooth it over. That stubbornness shaped No More Tears, the sixth studio album from Ozzy Osbourne, released on September 17, 1991 through Epic Records.
Thirty-five years later, the record still sounds like a man refusing to coast. By the early nineties, Osbourne had survived a decade of solo reinvention, label shifts, and enough personal chaos to bury most careers. No More Tears arrived as a deliberate consolidation — heavy metal muscle, hard rock hooks, and blues rock swagger locked into the same frame. Epic Records backed the project, and the singer pushed for creative chemistry with Daisley specifically, the bassist who had been anchoring his sound since the beginning.
The final sessions of a core lineup
The sessions carried a strange weight. Randy Castillo sat behind the drum kit for what would become his final album with Osbourne. Bob Daisley, the longtime bassist and songwriter, also closed his chapter here. The rhythm section that had defined so much of Osbourne's solo identity was recording its last statement together, even if nobody framed it that way at the time. The album title translates from English as 'Enough Tears' — a phrase that could read as defiance or exhaustion.
Zakk Wylde, already entrenched as the guitarist, contributed to the songwriting across the record. But the most unusual credit belonged to Lemmy Kilmister of Motörhead, who wrote lyrics for six songs. Only four made the final cut. That surplus of material hints at how much was being thrown at the wall — Osbourne was stockpiling ammunition, not just filling tracklists. The process had the feel of a band leader checking every corner of the room before locking the door.
Chart success and a Grammy win
The singles told the story commercially. Four tracks from No More Tears cracked the top ten of the American Hot Mainstream Rock Tracks chart. 'Mama, I'm Coming Home' climbed to the second position on that same rock chart, a ballad that gave Osbourne a softer entry point without sanding down the edges. Meanwhile, 'I Don't Want to Change the World' won a Grammy, proof that radio friendliness and award-season credibility could coexist on the same album.
On the Billboard 200, the record reached the seventh spot. In Britain, the UK Albums Chart placed it at seventeen. Those numbers undersell the long game — No More Tears became one of the two best-selling Osbourne albums in North America, second only to the debut Blizzard of Ozz. The RIAA certified it quadruple platinum, and Canada's CRIA doubled that with a two-times platinum certification. The album simply refused to leave shelves.
The bass credit dispute
Then there's the bass credit confusion, a footnote that collectors still argue about. Mike Inez appears in the music videos and toured with the band, and he's credited as the writer of the title track. But Bob Daisley played bass on the actual recording. Inez didn't touch the studio version. The visual narrative and the sonic truth split in different directions — fans watching MTV saw one lineup while their turntables spun another.
That disconnect feels appropriate for an album built on contradictions. A Grammy-winning single sits next to a title track credited to a musician who wasn't in the room. Lemmy's unused lyrics linger somewhere in a vault. The record celebrates survival while marking the end of a core lineup. No More Tears never resolves these tensions; it just lets them hum alongside the riffs, which is exactly why the album still gets played.
The record celebrates survival while marking the end of a core lineup.
The sessions ended, the tour rolled on, and the lineup that finished the record never reassembled. No More Tears stands at the edge of that shift — the last document of a particular chemistry. The title was a dare and a shrug at once, and thirty-five years on, the bass line Osbourne fought for in that Hollywood studio still has enough weight to make the floorboards answer back.