Originally published in the Columbus Alive (Dec. 13, 2004)
There are those who believe, in hindsight, that if the Alrosa Villa had imposed stricter security measures, the senseless tragedy of December 8 that resulted in the deaths of five people, including Damageplan guitarist Dimebag Darrell Abbott, may never have occurred.
In an interview with MTV.com, Paul Wertheimer of Crowd Management Strategies, a consulting firm specializing in concert safety, said that had security guards used handheld metal detectors at the Damageplan show, “It would have caught the gun and you would have never heard about it. It would have been an item in the police blotter of the Columbus Dispatch.”
It’s this type of misinformation that’s turning the focus away from the execution-style killing of Dimebag Darrell and placing blame on somebody other than Nathan Gale, the 26-year-old Marysville man who opened fire in the crowded concert venue and was shot to death by Columbus police officer James Niggemeyer.
Wertheimer missed an important piece of information: According to eyewitness reports, Gale did not enter the club through the front door and therefore would not have been subjected to a security check. He was on a mission to kill former Pantera guitarist Dimebag Darrell and possibly Dimebag’s brother, Damageplan (and former Pantera) drummer Vinnie Paul. If he hadn’t been able to get access to them inside the club, there’s reason to believe he would have waited by the Damageplan tour bus to make an attempt there.
While fans, friends and family continue to search for the reasoning behind Gale’s madness—how he went from being a diehard Pantera fan to killing someone he idolized—the heavy metal nation has pulled together to remember the guitarist whose influence is widely recognized. Some of hard rock’s biggest-selling acts—Korn, Limp Bizkit, Disturbed and Slipknot, among others—have publicly acknowledged that without Pantera’s influence they would not be where they are today.
But it was more than Dimebag’s guitar playing that endeared him to peers and fans. He was a people person, always willing to chat with a stranger. One has to wonder what would have happened if Gale hadn’t snapped and, instead, shared a beer with Dimebag at the end of the Damageplan set.
My first exposure to Pantera came via MTV’s Headbanger’s Ball in 1990. At a time when most hard rock videos were made by guys wearing hairspray and spandex, Pantera’s “Cowboys from Hell” stuck out on the weekly video show. The music was intense, a far cry from the pop-metal style popular at the time, and the video was shot in black and white with strobe light effects punctuating the barking snarl of Phil Anselmo, the blazing guitar riffs of Dimebag Darrell and the pounding assault of Pantera’s rhythm section, bassist Rex Brown and drummer Vinnie Paul.
I later discovered that Pantera had previously gone through a hair metal period of sorts, releasing three albums with another singer and playing a style that mixed the sounds of Judas Priest, Van Halen and Mötley Crüe in a somewhat undistinguishable mess. Once Anselmo entered the fold, though, the band turned to a more aggressive sound, just in time to permanently alter my perceptions of what heavy metal could be. To this day, Pantera’s 1992 release, Vulgar Display of Power, is as important to my musical upbringing as Nirvana’s Nevermind, both albums proving to me that there was life outside of mainstream rock radio.
I experienced Dimebag’s outgoing spirit on two separate, albeit brief, occasions during his days in Pantera, both while waiting behind concert venues after a show for the band members to sign my CDs.
One of those experiences came following a June 1990 show at the Newport. Dimebag and the rest of Pantera came out into the back lot armed with beer and Sharpie markers. Dimebag was readily passing out cans of beer to those of us who had been patiently waiting and engaged in conversation with people rather than just signing autographs in assembly-line fashion. It was more like hanging out with a friend than meeting a rock star, and it was apparent that Dimebag appreciated the opportunity just as much as the fans did.
Drugs brought an end to Pantera in 2000; Anselmo overdosed and was actually dead for four minutes before being resuscitated. The band had already been traveling a bumpy road. Nü metal was attracting fans away from Pantera’s audience and Anselmo’s drug problems had spiraled out of control. The band split up shortly thereafter and Dimebag and Vinnie sought out new musicians to form Damageplan.
While I remained an admirer of Dimebag’s guitar skills, I wasn’t a Damageplan fan. On their debut release, New Found Power, singer Pat Lachman does a pretty decent impersonation of Anselmo on cuts like “Wake Up” and “Breathing New Life,” but going to see Damageplan would have been, for me, like going to see Van Halen with Gary Cherone on lead vocals. That’s not to say that Dimebag wasn’t pushing the envelope with his power-groove guitar style; from the thrashing riffs of “Fuck You” to the murky tone of “Pride,” he still had plenty of fresh ideas.
It’s been reported that even after Gale pumped Dimebag full of bullets, the revered guitarist continued to play his guitar as he dropped to the floor, unaware of what had just happened. If this is indeed true, it’s a testament to the will of life he held.
In the wake of Dimebag Darrell’s death, the outpouring of grief from those close to him has been overwhelming. Eulogies from peers in the music industry, former tour partners, close friends and even from those who never met Dimebag Darrell but respected his style continue to be posted on sites like Blabbermouth.net.
The most fitting tribute on the site comes from Hank Williams III, who plays bass in Superjoint Ritual with Phil Anselmo.
“It just ain’t fuckin’ right,” he writes. “Alcohol should have killed Dime, not a fuckin’ piece of shit worthless fuck with a gun…. For those of us that were lucky enough to be around Dime as a person…or see him jam in no matter what band it was, you know he liked to have a good time…. In his honor, crank up his fuckin’ music and get motherfuckin’ wasted on whiskey!”
As I’m sure the Texas-born and raised Dimebag Darrell would say if he were still around, “Amen brother, amen.”
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