Posted on 12/09/2004 11:35:41 AM PST by zetapsi
When I was thirteen, I had the best group of friends a kid could ask for. There was the goofball, the student, the lackey(s), the rich kid, and a few others who fit the various white suburban archetypes. As every other generation of the twentieth century, music was a large tie that bound us. The various groups of friends in junior high and high school were graphed according to their particular musical preferences, and ours was heavy metal. Not the fun metal of the 80's, but the dark, deep, and passionate metal of the early 90's.
The forefront of this effrontery was a band called Pantera. With its dark melodic tone and emboldened lyrics, Pantera provided legions of fans with an ethos they could adopt and call their own...and we did. We could recite all the lyrics and guitar riffs as if we had written them ourselves, and deep in our hearts we felt as though we had. This music was the manifestation of, and manifested, a cross-section of the American public that knew there was just something a little off about the world and what we were being packaged and force-fed.
I was awoken this morning by the voice of David Asman of Foxnews, as he read aloud that "Dimebag" Darrell Abbot, the Guitarist for Pantera, had been shot dead on stage performing with his new band Damageplan in Columbus, Ohio. My first thought was not of how this effected me and the music I so devoutly cherish, and not of the aforementioned legion of fans, I thought of Gabe.
Gabe was the spiritual leader of our little group of friends. He was one of us, a white suburban kid, but he had a rebel quality that we all wanted so badly. He was the kid with the sloppy long hair, the kid that had the new underground CD we hadn't even heard of yet, and the kid who had the affection of the girl we all liked. He was a sharply handsome kid, starkly resembling Luke Perry which he always detested being told, but would've probably rather been ugly just to protest against his parents' proper tones. Essentially, a true literary comparison to his place in the world is something like the "Chris Chambers" character in the film Stand By Me. As much as anything that was mythical about him, he was the first of the group to learn to play guitar. Soon enough, one could tell that he was a musician in the very core of his soul and we loved him for it.
When I got my guitar, in attempt to be him someday, Gabe would give me a few pointers. The first two songs he showed me how to play were "Iron Man" by Black Sabbath (invariably the first metal song one learns on guitar) and "I'm Broken" by Pantera. The guitar riff for "I'm Broken" is a relatively easy one, being that a musical beginner got the hang of it in just a few days, but it is one that has resonated my being and remains with me ever since. Sure its lyrics have a deep meaning within me and it was one of the first songs I learned on a guitar, but there is something greater within it. There is a sound deep within the deafening opening riff, and when you listen carefully, you will cry and yearn for a day that is gone.
The world takes its cruel turns, and Gabe and I no longer speak. I have always wanted to rectify this, but never has it been so painful as I cannot discuss the passing of a childhood hero with him, who was not far from the same distinction. To this day Gabe is as mythic to me as he was back then, perhaps even more so. It is counterproductive to dwell in the negative, and only G-d knows that I have served my sentence, but this day has reminded me that innocence once did truly exist. For this I am grateful, and once again from tragedy comes understanding. I don't know how Gabe is, or even who he is for that matter. I don't know whether he became the Rock Star I wanted him so desperately to become, but I'm not sure if I really care about that. Despite not knowing, something deep inside me tells me that he is fine, and that everything makes sense in his life, at least the way he would define it.
As I write this, I am seated in a crowded room where none of the people have any idea that someone so important died last night. I am wearing the "Pantera Shirt" that I got at my first Pantera Concert. This is the shirt I wore under my gown at my High School and College Graduation, and I wear it today to celebrate a man whose life taught me about who I am, and whose death has taught me about who I have become and that memories stay close to your heart no matter how distant they seem.
Today is a sad day, a hero has fallen. But Darrell Abbot was a different kind of hero. Sure he was a gifted Rock Star with millions of loyal fans, and inspired many to appreciate music and even make their own. But to Gabe, and I, and others, he was apart of something more. Pantera provided the soundtrack to our youth. They provided answers to questions that the rest of the world wasn't ready to ask. This violent death of one of my childhood heroes does not incline me to ask those dark questions, it makes me want to live again in the time when I thought I knew those answers.
;o)
I found it strange that Darrell was murdered on the anniversary of John Lennon's murder.
Ha, thats funny. Pantera's certainly not for everyone, but it made sense when I was young and suffering from teenaged angst. They're very heavy and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone not already into that kind of music to tell the truth. The column is certainly less about them and more about what the music meant.
Drivel comes to mind.
The metalhead subculture weeps for a loss of one of it's star guitarists. Darrell will be missed.
Hero is possibly the most overused word in the English language.
The guy was a good guitarist, he wrote songs that resonate with a small subsection of American youth. It's a shame he was murdered. That's all.
I'll save the term hero for people who voluntarily put their lives on the line for others, and not waste it on musicians or ballplayers.
I offer as exhibit A ...
I don't know how Gabe is, or even who he is for that matter. I don't know whether he became the Rock Star I wanted him so desperately to become, but I'm not sure if I really care about that. Despite not knowing, something deep inside me tells me that he is fine, and that everything makes sense in his life, at least the way he would define it.
Gabe is a banker now dude.
The author seemed to think he had something important to say, but instead wrote a poor man's version of an episode for a show like The Wonder Years.
As Telemann's Tafelmusik plays on my CD drive at this moment, I cannot say I feel any connection to Pantera either.
Amen. It is a sad day for all those who were touched by Darrell and his music.
I am reminded, however, of when Kurt Cobain died. I was in college and watching MTV. The news weenie came on, announced his death (by suicide), and solemnly intoned that kids shouldn't follow his lead and kill themselves. My first thought was that "The idiots at MTV don't have much respect for me or my generation".......
Stranger still: December 8th is Jim Morrison's birthday.
(((cue "Twilight Zone" music)))
certainly noted, as I do have one of my best friends fighting in Iraq. I was referring to that word as it stood when I was 13.
Kind of reminded me of the guy with the guitar on the stairs in Animal House ... "I gave my love a cherry"
Is all that necessary? I guess I did make a mistake on posting it on the News site instead of the bloggers site... but I wouldn't insult something you felt serious enough to write something about. A little tact, no?
Living here in Dallas, I must say while Pantera is not my musical taste, Darrell and Vinnie are a part of this community, especially with their support of the local sports teams (the Dallas Stars theme song that was a huge part of their Stanley Cup run in 1999). I've heard nothing but good things about the guy, he was always very approachable. All the local radio stations here in DFW have been talking about this non-stop today, even the local sports talk radio station, where Vinny used to call into once in awhile.
Anger is good sometimes. Me, I like Nine Inch Nails. But I learned the hard way not to listen to it while stuck in L.A. traffic. Made me want to start blamelessly blasting the wheels out from under every vehicle in front of me.
I am reminded, however, of when Kurt Cobain died.
I hated Cobain's music, but I'll give him credit for giving death a trial run (via drug-induced coma) before actually committing to it by munching the metal popsicle. (Saw pics of that one... Nasty.)
He truly was a good man. I had always planned, in the back of my mind anyway, to go to Dallas and go to one of their bars. That Dallas Stars song is awesome, btw.
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