Sharon Osbourne Claps Back at Sabbath Manager Over Early Recordings Dispute

Sharon Osbourne has once again stepped into the spotlight to defend Black Sabbath’s legacy—this time in response to claims from the band’s former manager, Jim Simpson. Her latest statement, posted on X, laid out her objections clearly, bringing renewed attention to a conflict that has been simmering for well over a year. What began as a disagreement over ownership has evolved into a pointed exchange about legal rights, business practices, and the authenticity of early Sabbath recordings.

The issue traces back to rare pre-Sabbath material recorded when the band was still known as Earth. Simpson insists he funded those early studio sessions and therefore owns the recordings outright. Osbourne disputes both the ownership and how Simpson has handled the matter, emphasizing that the band has never even been allowed to hear the tapes he claims to possess. For her, this is not simply a disagreement over tapes—it’s about maintaining the integrity of the band’s origins.

These competing claims have led to a series of back-and-forth press releases, social media posts, and legal positioning. What once looked like a niche archival matter has now reached a point where both sides are publicly defending their versions of history. Osbourne’s newest statement, detailed and forceful, signals her determination to push back against any release she and the band believe misrepresents their early story.

Simpson’s Claims and Osbourne’s Point-By-Point Pushback

Simpson’s November 2025 press release laid the groundwork for this latest escalation. In it, he described Big Bear Records as the UK’s longest-running independent label and highlighted a new distribution partnership with Trapeze Music & Entertainment Ltd. Osbourne wasted no time responding, challenging nearly every major claim—beginning with the label’s history. Citing Topic Records, founded in 1939, she countered that Big Bear’s self-description simply doesn’t hold up.

She then aimed at the heart of Simpson’s distribution announcement: the idea that an independent UK label, burdened by debt and carrying legacy material of questionable copyright status, would suddenly be positioned to reintroduce “lost” recordings to the marketplace. Osbourne detailed the financial instability of Trapeze Music, referencing previous bankruptcies and liquidations tied to its leadership. Her message was that these were not organizations she or the band would trust with something as important as Black Sabbath’s early archive.

More importantly, she argued that Simpson’s own narrative about royalties had never aligned with the band’s experience. He has publicly claimed he intended to pay the group fairly. Osbourne insisted no such offer had ever been made. This is where the dispute becomes emotional rather than merely technical—because for Osbourne and the band, the releases are not only unauthorized, but fundamentally misrepresent how the group’s earliest work should be handled.

The Legal Tangle Behind the Recordings

The conflict escalated when MVD, a US distributor associated with Trapeze, temporarily made some of the disputed recordings available online. Osbourne stated that this violated agreements requiring a 14-day notice window before any release. The material was quickly taken down, but the damage was done: it demonstrated how easily these recordings could slip into the public sphere without the band’s consent.

At the core of the dispute is an unresolved question of ownership. Simpson maintains that because he paid for the early studio sessions, he has both the legal and moral right to distribute the tapes. His argument leans heavily on the idea of stewardship—preserving historic material and making it available to fans. He has even claimed that if the band refused royalties, proceeds would go to charity. On paper, it sounds noble. In practice, the band sees it differently.

For Osbourne and the members of Black Sabbath, the problem is not simply the release itself but the lack of transparency around it. Her latest statement repeats something she has said before: Simpson has refused to let the band hear the tapes, even as he prepares commercial plans around them. To Osbourne, that alone casts doubt on the recordings’ authenticity and condition. If the owner of the material won’t let the artists themselves assess it, she argues, then there is a deeper issue at play.

Legacy, Control, and Why the Dispute Still Matters

This dispute continues because it touches on something larger than a handful of vintage tapes. For Black Sabbath, their early recordings represent the fragile, formative period before success. Those sessions shaped who they became, and how they are remembered. When someone outside the band controls that story—or profits from it without their approval—it conflicts with how they believe their legacy should be preserved.

Simpson’s position hinges on a sense of historical duty, but Osbourne’s arguments focus on accuracy, respect, and artistic control. She has repeatedly emphasized that the band will not approve any release through Big Bear Records or Trapeze Music, and that they view the ownership claims with skepticism. Her detailed public rebuttal shows that this is not merely an internal disagreement but a matter she feels must be addressed openly to protect the band’s narrative.

As the dispute enters another year, fans are left watching two competing truths unfold. On one side is a former manager holding onto a piece of the band’s past. On the other is the band’s long-time manager defending the group’s rights and legacy. With neither side budging, these early recordings—once just obscure artifacts of the Earth days—have become the center of a much bigger argument about who gets to tell the story of Black Sabbath’s beginning.