Friday, November 18, 2005

12/8 is quickly aproaching

December 8 will forever be known as one of the most fucked up days in music history. On this date two assholes took from us two of the greatest musical minds in history. On December 8, 1980, Mark David Chapman could no longer fight the demons in his head. He waited all day for his prey, and even took time to shake the hand of his baby boy. Later that evening, as Chapman waited and became more and more furious, John Lennon's Limo pulls up and the rest is history.

Twenty-four years later, in a small club in Columbus, OH, another sick fuck decides to strike. It has almost been a year now since that sorry son of a bitch took Dime from us. People may think what they want of Dime, Pantera, or Damageplan, but take it from someone who grew up in the same town as the Abbott brothers; this man didn't deserve this shit.

I remember back in the early to mid eighties, when Pantera was first starting out here in Arlington. They would play little shithole clubs but would always pack them in. I was not a fan of Pantera at all growing up. I considered their music cheesier than Def Leppard's music, who at the time pretty much ruled the cheesy music scene. I remember days of going to school depressed for some reason or another, but always being cheered up when I saw how ridiculous Darrell (who went by the name Diamond Darrell Lance back in those days) looked. You could see him about 75 yards down a packed hallway because his hair towered about two feet over his head (that may be a slight exaggeration but you get the point.) And as I would get closer, I would generally have to fight the laughter. This dude would be wearing your standard leopard print sleeveless t-shirt, spandex with bandanas tied all the way up them, and a bullet belt, but what always seemed to get me was the big furry Eskimo boots. Even though at the time I had no respect for this dude, I knew deep inside that he was bound for greatness.

To be continued...

Lefty Metalhead's 2 Cents:

On December 8, 2004, I had a relaxing Wednesday evening. This newfound relaxation was welcome after 10 relentless weeks of Fall quarter work at DePaul University in Chicago. I had several difficult courses, a full-time job, and worked on Senator Obama's campaign. I remember spending the day practicing guitar, listening to metal, and reading books on political strategy (trying to find out why the Dems lost again in 2004). I didn't bother to turn the television on.

The next day, I had an appointment at the Volvo dealer where I had just purchased my new S60 2.4T. They had given me a free polish/wax and interior detail, so I decided to take advantage of it on that day. When I got there, the manager told me they were backed-up. I was pissed off because it was only 9:00 am and they already had too much work. So I had to wait. I walked over to a Walgreens a block away. I remember buying some fruit and a bottle of water. I sat at a bench outside the store and decided to call my buddy Jon. The first thing he told me upon answering was "did you hear the brothers from Pantera were killed last night?" Obviously, he was misinformed. Only Dime had been killed along with crew members and fans. I couldn't believe it. I felt horrible. I actually cried! As soon as I got home, I blasted "Cemetery Gates" and "Hollow", read the latest news on Blabbermouth, and created a makeshift memorial in my bedroom. It's still hanging on the wall today (I'll put a picture up on 12/8). I still haven't fully recovered from the thought of never seeing Dimebag shred again. I had just seen Damageplan at the House of Blues two weeks earlier (November 21). Charlie Benante from Anthrax was there and some other dudes.

As BigNewsDay said, this is to be continued...

"It will never change, so here it stays, forever is my name"

1 comment:

BlackLabelAxe said...

I heard the news the next morning on my way to work, and it totally tanked my day. I walked into my office, with my Pantera wall calendar displaying a red-bearded shredder with a Washburn guitar in one hand and the other showing those devil horns. I stared at it in disbeleif. I barely got any work done that day, I just thought about how the world had lost one of the coolest motherfuckers that ever lived.

When I got home, I poured two big shots of Jack Daniels, drank one, and poured the other out for Dime. The only thing that calmed me down was to think that he's up there jamming with Randy, Jimi, and Cliff.

Then I thought: "dammit, by the time I get there all the Crown Royal will be gone."

Rest in Peace, brother. Or crank it up and don't rest at all, which is far more likely.

Vinnie: Please join the Black Label Society and get Zakk's head out of his ass. You're probably the only person with enough pull to make him straighten up and give us another "Sonic Brew".