Dimebag is seen ripping it up circa ’84 and ’85, right up until his Damageplan days. There’s lots of fireworks, most notably used to wake various poor loafers.
Universally beloved, they somehow continue to make oddball, quirky music that caresses humanity’s collective soul while never staying stylistically stagnant.
Never knew much about David Allan Coe but the booze ‘n’ dope legends. Toothless, drunk country lyrics everywhere, while 3/4th of Pantera go all Jackyl on us.
The band is still playing butt-shaking boogie rock, but the tempo’s a bit less frantic, and the psychedelic effects on the vocals may arch an eyebrow or two.
Not as he-man thrash as Alien or SYL, more of a rule-breaker, which is what made City such a proud (and arguably unlistenable) creative moment in the extreme.
A nice, dripping-screwdriver-to-the-forehead stabbing, a penetrating tongue encounter, and a cool vulture demon who sneaks mouthfuls of people’s entrails.