Carrie Underwood couldn’t get a word out at Ozzy Osbourne’s funeral – but then she sang a song he’d heard her sing backstage on American Idol, and the whole church fell silent.

An insider said: “She was shaking, her voice was hoarse, but in the end it was a farewell.”

Carrie Underwood’s Silent Farewell to Ozzy Osbourne: A Song That Stopped the Church

On July 30, 2025, Birmingham’s Black Sabbath Bridge overflowed with tributes to Ozzy Osbourne, the heavy metal legend who passed at 76, weeks after his final Villa Park performance. Amid the rain and the echoes of Bostin’ Brass playing “Paranoid,” the private chapel memorial drew family, friends, and music icons. But it was Carrie Underwood, the country superstar, who delivered a moment that left the church breathless. Unable to speak through her grief, she sang “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” a song Ozzy had heard her perform backstage during her 2005 American Idol days. Her trembling, hoarse voice brought the room to a standstill, a farewell so raw it echoed Ozzy’s own vulnerability. An insider later said, “She was shaking, her voice was hoarse, but in the end, it was a farewell.”

The funeral balanced Ozzy’s wish for a joyful send-off, as he told The Sunday Times in 2011, with The Beatles’ A Day in the Life requested for his exit. Fans left flowers, whisky, and notes at the bridge, while the chapel service, attended by Sharon, Kelly, and Jack Osbourne, alongside figures like Tony Iommi, was intimate. Underwood’s presence, though unexpected, spoke to a quiet bond with Ozzy, forged two decades earlier. Known for her powerhouse vocals and faith-driven country hits, Underwood seemed an unlikely mourner for the Prince of Darkness, yet their connection, rooted in a shared love of music’s redemptive power, ran deep.

In 2005, Underwood was a 22-year-old American Idol contestant, weeks away from winning the competition. Ozzy, then 56 and a reality TV star via The Osbournes, was a guest mentor for a rock-themed episode. Backstage, as Underwood prepared her performance of Heart’s “Alone,” she was nervous, unsure if her country roots could handle rock’s intensity. Sources close to the event, speaking anonymously due to its private nature, say Ozzy overheard her rehearsing “Jesus, Take the Wheel,” a gospel-country ballad she’d later release as her debut single. Struck by its raw emotion, he approached her, sharing stories of his own struggles with addiction and how music—his “wheel”—had saved him. “Sing like you’re letting go,” he told her, a piece of advice she carried into her career.

Their bond grew over the years. Underwood, who admired Ozzy’s resilience, sent him a handwritten note after his 2003 quad bike accident, thanking him for his encouragement. In 2019, during Ozzy’s No More Tours 2, Underwood attended his Nashville show, later meeting him backstage to reminisce about their Idol moment. Ozzy, battling Parkinson’s, called her voice “a prayer in itself,” a nod to their shared belief in music as a spiritual force. When he died, Underwood, fresh off her Denim & Rhinestones tour, canceled a week of shows to attend the funeral, her grief too heavy for public statements.

At the chapel, as Sharon spoke of Ozzy’s legacy, Underwood sat quietly in the second row, her hands trembling. Asked to say a few words, she approached the podium but couldn’t speak, her voice choked by tears. The room, filled with mourners like Rihanna and A$AP Rocky, held its breath. Then, unprompted, she began to sing “Jesus, Take the Wheel.” Her voice, hoarse and unsteady at first, carried the weight of her grief, each note a plea for strength. The lyrics—“Jesus, take the wheel / Take it from my hands”—echoed Ozzy’s own surrender to music during his darkest moments, from addiction to his final battle with illness.

The church fell silent. Sharon’s eyes welled up, Kelly clutched Jack’s arm, and Iommi bowed his head, the song’s simplicity cutting through the room’s sorrow. Underwood’s voice, though strained, grew stronger, her vibrato cracking with emotion as she reached the chorus. The choice of song was no accident—it was the one Ozzy had heard backstage in 2005, a moment that bonded them across genres. An insider described the scene: “She was shaking, her voice was hoarse, but in the end, it was a farewell—a way to say what words couldn’t.” The performance, unamplified and raw, lasted barely three minutes, but its impact lingered, a testament to Ozzy’s ability to inspire beyond metal.

Underwood’s silence before singing mirrored her restraint in the public eye. Unlike the viral moments from the funeral, like A$AP Rocky’s rap, her performance wasn’t recorded, preserving its sanctity. Fans outside, catching wind through whispers from attendees, flooded X with posts, linking the song to Ozzy’s own spiritual ballads like “Dreamer.” Some recalled Underwood’s 2010 tweet praising Ozzy’s “heart of gold,” fueling speculation about their connection. The black rose Rihanna placed on the casket earlier seemed to resonate with Underwood’s song, both gestures tying personal loss to Ozzy’s enduring spirit.

The choice of “Jesus, Take the Wheel” was especially poignant. Its message of surrender and faith aligned with Ozzy’s own journey, from his near-death experiences to his final Back to the Beginning show at Villa Park, where he performed “Mama, I’m Coming Home” for Sharon from a bat-themed throne. Underwood, a devout Christian, saw parallels in Ozzy’s redemption through music, a theme she explored in her own gospel-infused work. Her decision to sing rather than speak was a nod to their 2005 conversation, where Ozzy urged her to let music carry her burdens.

The funeral’s public procession, with fans chanting and brass playing, celebrated Ozzy’s legacy, but Underwood’s moment was its emotional core. She left the chapel quietly after singing, avoiding the press, her tribute complete. Sharon later told Billboard, “Carrie’s voice was Ozzy’s kind of prayer—real, broken, beautiful.” The silence that followed her song was more than an absence of sound; it was a collective exhale, a moment where grief and gratitude met.

Carrie Underwood’s inability to speak at Ozzy’s funeral wasn’t weakness—it was the weight of a bond that words couldn’t capture. Her song, a memory from their Idol days, was a final gift to a man who taught her to let go and let music lead. As Birmingham mourned, her voice carried Ozzy’s spirit, proving that even in silence, a song can say everything.