A Sad Day For Metal

As I woke up on Thursday morning, I did my usual routine of scratching my balls, coughing up bloody phlegm, wondering why I even woke up in the first place and popping in some music and turning it up extremely loud while I shower. By coincidence (though at the time I didn't realize it) I put on Pantera's "Far Beyond Driven" album and scrubbed my balls to the brutally fast riffs of "Slaughtered".

It couldn't have been more tragically ironic even if I tried.

For those who just don't care to know (and shame on you for not), "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott, guitarist of Pantera and Damageplan, was tragically shot down by an insane fan on Wednesday night at the age of 38 while performing with Damageplan at the Alrosa Villa nightclub in Columbus, Ohio. Apparently, according to the police, the guy jumped on stage right after the opening number of the show, shouted something at the band then proceeded to shoot "Dimebag" Darrell a whole bunch of times before turning the gun on the crowd and killing three more people. The cops were there, thank god, and killed the man like the cowardly dog he was. "Dimebag" Darrell was, without a doubt (at least in my mind) one of the most influentual metal guitarists alive today. His riffs and compositions are copied, broken down, strained through, and literally worshipped by countless hardcore, thrash and metal bands trying to meek out a living today. While not the most complicated… goddamn it the man could fucking play. Ask any one familiar with metal, and play them two seconds of a Pantera riff and we could all tell which song it was the moment the guitar kicked in. And now he's gone.

Now, I'm not one to pine on a celebrity’s death but this hit me close to the heart. I was always a huge fan of Pantera and even when Phil Anselmo and the rest of the band went there seperate ways a couple years ago I would still hope for a reunion tour. Because growing up in the late 80's and early 90's during junior high and high school, I fit into that category of "Dirtbag". We were the ones spat on by the Jocks, shunned by the Preps, and looked down upon by those stinky bastards, the Grunge-kids. Why? Simply because we shaved our heads, we wore spikes and combat boots, we drove Irocs and run-down Mustangs and we fucking rocked out to the sounds of Slayer, Iron Maiden, Sepultura, and Pan-motherfucking-tera! We were the down-trodden, the beaten, the abused by our fathers, the ones scorned by "normal" Society and we didn't have to listen to no whiny bullshit from Pearl Jam either to let our feelings out. No, we had the sounds of Phil Anselmo growling into the mic while we sang along with him note for note, heads banging to Darrell's memorably riffs. It wasn't pussification music by any means. It was pure empowerment! It was one huge middle finger stuck in the face of everyone else who just didn't get it. So if your a fan, drop what your doing, raise a beer to the sky, and thank "Dimebag" Darrell for all the wonderful music he provided us.

Rest in peace, Darrell Abbott...

...you will be sorely missed.