Treading the Missed Mondays: I Know What You Did Last Frontman

WHAT’S POPPIN’, JIMBO?

Aren’t you glad that no remembers how you used to eat Elmer’s glue is 1st grade? Or that nobody remembers that time you did that REALLY promiscuous thing at a party and had to get tested the next day? Aren’t you glad no one remembers that incident with the beer pong and two dudes kissing and watching Jurassic Park?

Wait, that last one might be from personal experience.

ANYWAY, THE POINT IS, SOME FUCKERS MIGHT FORGET ABOUT THAT SHIT, BUT YA BOY GOT A MIND LIKE A STEEL TRAP ABOUT FUCK-UP’S, DREGS, AND DEBAUCHERY.

And one such instances that I remember VERY WELL, is none other that of Texas own, PAAANNTEEERRRRAAAAAAAAA!~

Jeeeezus.

Right?

Bad. Really bad!

. . .

But you know what?

I LOVE IT. (Editor’s note – we do too)

Let have us a little looksy at the gems and doozies from the fucking sweet-ass Terry Glaze hair metal-era that they wish we would forget about.

Up first on the block, “Death Trap” from 1988’s “Power Metal”.

Okay, so actually, this is actually Phil Anselmo era, BUT I BET THEY STILL WISH WE FORGOT ABOUT IT. God damn if there wasn’t just exact slightly too much reverb on Philly’s mic. Everything he says hits shrill pitches that could have been touched-up in mastering, but for whatever reason became a side note to making most everything else crisp when it needed to be, and then intoxicatingly looow-down and gritty when it knew it should be.

Lyrics pree bad too doe.

Riffs from pole to pole keep your mind quite preoccupied thankfully, as little 115-pound Dimebag Darrell with 6-pound hair has more guitar chops at his ripe young age that most gods to ever touch the instrument. I miss that dude eternally, think about him commonly, “sad reacts only pls”. Holy fuck is that nonsense ever garbage by the way! If you only want to surround yourself with sorrow anyways, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY JUST KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. YES GRIEVING IS A PART OF THE HEALING PROCESS BUT HONEY YOU JUST MOPEY.

*Adjusts tie*

Following that song is a very different flavour of Pantera than the rest of this album. It’s almost a love song? With double vocal almost Judas Priest-esque verses, and iconically Anselmo choruses, this song feels like it feel out of an 8-track player from pearl-white Lamborghini.

Sexy, right?

Synth soaked in places with very correctly written guitar underneath makes all the difference. Dime knew when to be the support (even then his style still made it look like he was showing off), but he also knew when it was HIS time. You don’t hear NOTHING over almost any of Dime’s solo’s because they are “as the kids say”, “Quite LIT “.

But about 6-7 years before this something magical happened. The very FIRST iteration of Pantera was born. Featuring frontman Terry Glaze, it carried a sound similar to bands like RIOT and Diamond Head. One look at their first cover and you will know EXACTLY how good the dish you are about to be served is.

Okay, I mean, FIRST OFF:

– HOW THE HELL DOES THAT “SWORD” WORK?

– IS IT A CAT TURNING INTO A MAN, OR THE OTHER WAY AROUND?

– THE ONLY METAL THING IN THIS COVER IS THE “SWORD”, SO IS IT INHERENTLY “MAGIC”?

– WHAT ARE IT’S D&D STATS?

I gotchyu, fam.

Okay, so this album has some gnarly trinkets. Take this heartbreaker to start it up:

It’s reeeeeal hard to make a rock song have more shimmer and tinsel than this pile. Massively gay synth haunts it like racist ghost living in rural cabin, and it is UNNECESSARILY gentle. It’s probably one of two songs on this album that aren’t straight rippers (in my opinion), but showing the highs and lows of a bands potential is what I want most of this column to be going forth. Maybe some still active band will see their thing and be like,

“Oh man, Bear is so right. Why didn’t I hear that palm mute clicking on the pick-ups?! Why am I such a weiner?”

A few tracks later we hear ANOTHER ATTEMPT at a love song! Come on, boys. You’re gonna get laid, you’ve invented far too much money into these outfits to fail now. That being said,

ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PANTERA SONGS:

Great cresendo through each verse, with solid builds, and it paints a damn enthralling picture. Using a cliché I had ever heard before definitely gives it another solid “+2”. Solo city.

Sliding in from 1985’s “I Am The Night”, the final album to feature Glaze’s beginning to degrade voice, as apparent from the very intro track.

“Haaa-aaa-aaa-aaa-aaa-aaaht”.

Or you could noo-ooo-ooo-ooot.

Fortunately, not too far down the road on the same album is the what I would call one of the first “gonna be a metal band no matter what” anthems.

Since he doesn’t spend the whole time hunting for notes that are outside his range, Glaze offers us some straight up screams that are organic and powerful! Slutty bends and whammy bars amongst arpeggios at such a tempo that it makes me pretty green with envy. Let alone that there is just a whole song on this album where Dime gets to solo with nothing else.

Alright friends, moral of the story (since I always seem to need one), learn from your mistakes, ‘cept gettin’ hungover,

You keep learning that lesson ya alcoholics.