Ranking the (Studio) Albums: Pantera (Part II: #4-1)

Considering their (surprising?) finest moments

Some of the assessments made in the first half of this series went against common perceptions about the Pantera catalogue. Really, who on earth would argue that Projects in the Jungle was, if not better, at least more enjoyable than The Great Southern Trendkill? For that matter, why were certain records not ranked lower? Well, that’s how this analysis shook out (agree or disagree? Comment below!), and that’s how it will continue to play out over the final four.

Regardless of how these last four are ultimately ranked, there is no getting around the fact that two of them perhaps shouldn’t be here- definitely not higher than Far Beyond Driven, right? Well… actually they do belong here, for reasons not worth prefacing any further…

So, the final four…

#4: I Am the Night (1985)

Sometime around the mid ‘90s, Dave Mustaine took to claiming that Pantera had copied Megadeth’s musical approach. That was almost entirely disingenuous- by 1994 the two bands were on completely different wavelengths and trajectories- but there was a connection beyond Mustaine nearly breaking Pantera up in the late ‘80s (more on that later): during the early years, as the band was getting tighter and more focused from playing literally anywhere and everywhere in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, at least three-fourths of the band were rapidly absorbing new influences and soaking up all of the great heavy metal coming up from the underground. By 1985, that meant getting a taste of an album called Kill ‘Em All- the guys were nowhere near ready to play anything remotely resembling thrash, but Diamond Darrell Lance clearly latched on both to the Michael Schenker-esque soloing of Kirk Hammett as well as the spidery riffs and chords prevalent in the songs Mustaine co-wrote.

The thrash influences would more fully manifest later, but I Am the Night was the first inkling that the Abbotts and Rex “Rocker” Brown were moving towards more extreme pastures. Yes, there were still commercial overtures (the generic “Come-On Eyes” and the pathetic closing ballad “Forever Tonight”), but the band’s third record was definitely heavy metal, and their most aggressive yet. The title track was a frantic screeching speedball, while “Valhalla” and “Down Below” were relentless ragers. And even if it was largely traditional and mainstream, it was arguably better than most of the major label metal records of the moment: sure, Vinnie Paul made the unfortunate decision to try out an electronic drum kit on a handful of tracks, but he still made those sound monstrous, while Darrell was well on his way to establishing his own tone, and as a player was already on another level. Everyone was growing by leaps and bounds, with even Terrence Lee’s screeching feeling mostly contextually relevant.

To be sure, I Am the Night didn’t transcend its time: there was plenty of silliness on display, from the frequently insipid lyrics to Darrell’s ludicrous instrumental "D*G*T*T*M" (“Darrell Goes to the Movies”). But there was also a metric ton of fun, with even the opening “Hot and Heavy” totally succeeding as a beer-soaked hollering anthem despite its laughably cheesy video. Yes, the verses were ridiculous and the yelping in the bridge even more so, but the chorus was joyously stupid fun, and underneath the gang vocals and pounding toms was an awesome Darrell riff. It was dumb ‘80s metal, but also thoroughly entertaining and without pretense or delusions of grandeur.

I Am the Night sold well enough as an indie to garner some measure of label interest: after all, if a metal record this cheaply made and not really distributed outside of the band’s own gigs could shift around 25,000 copies then something must’ve been in the air. Indeed, Atlantic Records would’ve made a ton more money had they signed Pantera over the likes of Raven and Malice. But as enjoyable as it was, I Am the Night was the last of its kind for the band, who were outgrowing this sound with each step. And they seemed to know it, for even as their prospects were improving they recognized this wasn’t where they wanted to stay- well most of them, at least. Exit Terrence Lee Glaze, who moved to Nashville and strangely enough made a major label-distributed album before his previous band (1989’s Deaf Gods of Babylon by Lord Tracy), and eventually settled in the east coast for a quieter (and presumably saner) life.

But even though the rest of Pantera were more interested in making heavier music, they weren’t ready to fully shed their old sound, bringing on the Glaze soundalike David Peacock to play label showcases in Los Angeles and starting to write their next record with him before they realized that a different approach was needed…

Rating: 3.5/5

#3: Power Metal (1988)

…and so enters Phil Anselmo, who although technically coming in as Pantera’s third singer, was actually their sixth choice to replace Terry Glaze. Before David Peacock’s short stint, the band first tried out Matt L'Amour, who apparently couldn’t sufficiently replicate Glaze’s screeching and only wanted to sing cover tunes. More interesting was their attempt to work with future Agent Steel frontman Rick Mythiasin: that didn’t work out because of “cultural differences”- Mythiasin was from El Paso, see. Peacock was next, and when that fell through the Abbotts reached out to San Antonio native Jason McMaster. Now this was an interesting choice: at that time McMaster was known in the underground as the vocalist for prog-thrashers Watchtower and was a decisively different singer than anyone else Pantera had considered to that point. However, McMaster was on the cusp of signing a major label deal with his side project Dangerous Toys, so with his own prospects otherwise looking good he declined. Finally, after a very brief consideration of Donny Hart (Pantera’s very first singer back when the Abbotts were in their early teens), the guys auditioned 18-year-old New Orleans native Anselmo, who may have been a much tougher and more aggressive vocalist but still hit the same high notes.

And that was the dichotomy he brought to Power Metal: the band’s fourth album was immediately heavier than anything else Pantera had done simply by virtue of having a much less ornate production. Gone were the electronic drums and keyboards, replaced by a drier and streamlined recording from papa Jerry Abbott that made the riffs and drums hit harder. More than that, the riffs themselves were harder, less given to melodic flourishes and more prone to slam and hit the gas. And then there was Anselmo, whose mere glare gave the band the extra edge they were seeking.

Of course, this was still ‘80s Pantera, which meant that they hadn’t quite found themselves yet. And perhaps nobody epitomized that more than Anselmo: his voice was deeper, yes, but he still yelped like a stereotypical metal frontman, and when he went for the dog whistles he recalled nothing less than a Southern-fried Geoff Tate. And then there were his lyrics, which mostly proclaimed his love for heavy metal on tunes with titles like “Rock the World” and “Burnnn!”, even showing good manners on the title track (“U say U want some metal/ I’ll give you all I got”- that was nice of him). And while Power Metal was certainly heavier than the band’s previous records, the guys were still trying to work within the parameters of the day, which among other things meant working with Keel guitarist Marc Ferrari and recording one of his leftover tunes (the self-explanatory “Proud to Be Loud”).

But even more than I Am the Night, Power Metal was a straight-up blast from front to back, even with the silliness of the lyrics and some of the more boilerplate riffing. So many of these tunes slam with reckless abandon, and even if Darrell’s riffs on “Rock the World”, “Power Metal” and “Death Trap” felt a bit obvious and even recalled parallel tracks from I Am the Night, they were also a boatload of fun to rock out to. Even a redone “Down Below”, with Anselmo gamely wailing Terry Glaze’s lyrics about people running in the street looking for some meat to eat, roared without a care in the world.

Power Metal was the first of two bridge albums for Pantera, amping up the aggression while not entirely forsaking the song structures and dynamics of their last record. But they were continuing to grow as writers and players, and even the lone ballad (“We’ll Meet Again”) was a significant upgrade from previous disgraces, though admittedly it was very much a dress rehearsal for the slow one on the next album. And if nothing else, Power Metal has the distinction of including Diamond Darrell’s one turn at the mic: “P.S.T. ‘88” was laughably stupid, but intentionally so, and there was no question the guys were having a blast ripping it up.

And that was Power Metal in a nutshell: a stepping stone for future glories that promised bigger and better things even as it reveled in its own nonsense. Nobody could call it a masterpiece, but just like I Am the Night, it was at least as good if not better than a lot of the major label metal coming out at the time, and was definitely a lot more fun.

Rating: 3.5/5

#2: Vulgar Display of Power (1992)

Although Vulgar Display of Power proved be the right album at the right time, and has only grown in stature over the past 30 years, it was actually a slow seller upon release, not making the Top 40 or moving Pantera to the next level either commercially or as a touring act. But if it was not an immediate blockbuster, it also sold steadily over the next 18 months as the guys decimated every stage that would have them, winning the respect and admiration of peers, legends and followers.

Coming back to that first point: this was exactly the right album at the right time, starting with a cover photo that made clear these dudes weren’t messing around. And that immediately carried over to the precision bulldozing of “Mouth for War” and the gated pummeling of Vinnie Paul’s drums. Not coincidentally, Vinnie co-produced Vulgar with Terry Date, and together they crafted an immediately identifiable sound that upgraded the sonics of …And Justice for All by layering in substantial bottom end and preserving the spontaneity and joy inherent in Diamond Darrell’s buzzsaw squealing. The music was all muscle and virtually no fat, and Phil Anselmo responded in turn by shaving his head, flaunting his “Unscarred” stomach tattoo and smothering his bark with nihilism. All of this combined made for the first defining metal album of the decade.

But despite Pantera’s repudiating their years as an indie act, Vulgar Display of Power was in a lot of ways a culmination of their years woodshedding and workshopping. Essentially, all that time playing house parties and VFW halls and learning how to write songs meant that when the majors finally came calling, they were ready for the big stage. All the same, they couldn’t have written and arranged this material without the benefit of experience, because, dare we say it, they needed something like Power Metal to hone their craft, as the fact was that “Walk”, “By Demons Be Driven” and “Hollow” were all descendants of earlier tunes, even if the violence of their performances indicated otherwise.

The point is that the previous 9 or so years had sharpened Pantera’s instincts, and Vulgar Display of Power’s songs reflected that. Of course, it was just as crucial that Pantera went into Vulgar having come off a lengthy cycle promoting Cowboys from Hell, emerging from their first real touring cycle a leaner, tighter and more vicious act, and the resulting album was the sound of four guys ready to pounce. While Metallica had become a stadium act on par with Guns N’ Roses (with whom they would infamously tour later in 1992) by simplifying their approach and tamping down the aggression of old, Megadeth planning to similarly streamline their sound, and Anthrax and Slayer temporarily dormant in the face of major lineup shifts, there was simply nothing else quite like the fury with which Pantera attacked numbers like the immortal “Fucking Hostile”, “A New Level” and the aforementioned “Mouth for War”. These tunes, and this band, were simply undeniable.

And yet… for all the deserved praise Vulgar has garnered over the years, what still gets glossed over is how front-loaded the record is. In truth, that could be said about all of their records, but here it feels like everyone forgets that the 4-5 song stretch between “This Love” and “Hollow”, while not at all bad, is a bit of a lull. “By Demons Be Driven” had that lethal opening riff (which was ultimately used as intro music for Headbanger’s Ball), but the chorus was somewhat trite, while “No Good (Attack the Radical)” and “Regular People (Conceit)” largely rehashed lyrical themes already articulated to lethal effect on “Walk”, “Mouth for War” and “Fucking Hostile” without offering anything new, and the music similarly reflected that. None of these tunes derailed the album, but they did hold it back from being an end-to-end classic. Just as consequential was that the aforementioned numbers plus “Live in a Hole”, while heavy and forceful, felt overly ponderous and took themselves a little too seriously, and for the first time felt like Pantera wasn’t really having a lot of fun making this music. And to be clear, as intense and spiteful as Vulgar’s most famous tunes were, there was never any question that all four members absolutely loved every second playing them- even “ballads” like “This Love” and “Hollow”. So the sense that they didn’t feel the same way about a decent stretch of this album ends up holding it back just a touch.

Rating: 4.5/5

#1: Cowboys from Hell (1990)

As anyone who has made it this far has likely fathomed, most Pantera albums come with a surprising amount of backstory- much more than the usual “band puts out an album, plays a bunch of shows, comes home and then puts together the next one” narrative. And their first album with major label distribution and money indeed did not emerge in a vacuum: besides going into the making of Cowboys from Hell after having spent the better of 7 years workshopping, woodshedding, playing and building a local but fervent fanbase, Pantera also briefly faced the possibility of disbanding before even making it to their fifth record.

Sometime around 1989, Dave Mustaine was already building his third incarnation of Megadeth, this time looking outside Los Angeles for a new guitarist and drummer. And with a couple Jeffs (Waters and Loomis) in the running, Mustaine had an embarrassment of riches to ponder. But it was a squealing shredder from Texas that really caught his attention, and in Mustaine's (inherently not entirely reliable) telling, Darrell Abbott was a prime contender and possibly on his way to landing the gig until he issued a crucial stipulation: he would be down for joining Megadeth- and walking away from the band he co-founded when he was 15- as long as his older brother came along on drums. As the story goes, Mustaine had already recruited Nick Menza for the drummer slot, and although Darrell may have been open to leaving Pantera, he wasn’t going anywhere without Vince, leaving us with another of a surprisingly large amount of “what if” scenarios surrounding this band.

But the fact that a barely 23-year-old Texas guitarist still calling himself Diamond Darrell was a viable contender to play lead guitar for arguably the most technical and cantankerous band in thrash says something about how much his approached had evolved, and that evolution was ultimately reflected on Pantera’s first Atco album. For above all else, Cowboys from Hell was a confident album, fully in love with its bashing and brawling and a barnstorming showcase of the band’s full range of abilities as well as an escalation and elevation from what had come before. There was no denying the feeling of excitement over finally making it to the big leagues (albeit on a small subsidiary of Atlantic Records) and that vibe announced itself right from the opening stutter of the title track’s first “money riff”. And with high voltage production from Terry Date (a fellow rising star who had previously introduced Soundgarden and Dream Theater to the big leagues), Cowboys from Hell burst out of speakers with canonfire drumming, rumbling bass, cajoling vocals and riff after motherfuckin’ riff.

If all of the above makes Cowboys from Hell sound a bit like a party record, that’s exactly what it was, albeit a party record from, well, hell. Phil Anselmo yowled, howled and wailed about how much ass he was ready to kick, but he was willing to forgive if you bought him a shot. And as heavy as the tracks were- and make no mistake, this was by far the heaviest shit put out by the majors in 1990- every note sounded like the guys were having an absolute blast, which was why the title tune, “Psycho Holiday” and “Domination” felt absolutely natural both at the bar as well as the moshpit. Date’s recording played no small part, as numbers like “The Art of Shredding” and especially “Cemetery Gates” had basically been previewed just one album earlier on corresponding tracks “Burnnn!” and “We’ll Meet Again”, but instead of coming across as amateurish and a bit bushleague, here they absolutely wrecked.

What ultimately made Cowboys from Hell stand out (and why it’s #1 on this list) is the overarching sense of fun- what comes through on every single note is how much Pantera absolutely loves every second of what they’re doing. Nobody was out to prove a point about anything, even as they were on their way to becoming icons. Even something as ludicrous as “Shattered”, with Anselmo’s Geoff Tate/King Diamond impression and hilarious apocalyptic lyrics (“families are dying!!!”), just fucking rips: that opening Darrell/Vince barrage mowed down everything within a 50-mile radius, and before anyone could laugh too hard at Phil’s hysteria they were pelted with shrapnel and pasted to the wall. And out of all of Pantera’s ‘90s albums, Cowboys also most lends itself to rediscovery: deep cuts like “Medicine Man” and “The Sleep”, while somewhat boilerplate lyrically, contain massive grooves and killer choruses, revealing themselves to be hidden gems.

Cowboys from Hell was the heaviest thing Pantera had done up to that point, and was also the last time they sounded like they truly enjoyed what they were doing. And that is why it tops this list- later records were heavier, and perhaps more definitive, but they didn’t have the same charm.

Rating: 4.5/5

Epilogue

The question that has loomed over the metal community for almost 20 years- and the elephant in the room over the last 11ish months- is whether Pantera would’ve gotten back together had the Abbotts not set foot in an Ohio club on that cold December night in 2004. Almost everyone agrees that they would have: the band’s legend was too strong, and the upside was too large for the four to have stayed apart for too long. Depending on exactly when that might’ve happened, it could have been an uneasy truce between the Abbotts, Anselmo and Rex Brown (who de facto took Anselmo’s side by remaining with Down, and later wrote a scathing tell-all full of dirt about Vinnie), but somehow, some way and at some point… Pantera would’ve been back.

What nobody will ever know is how it would have gone down. Could the guys have focused enough to put out a killer latter-day record, or would the bloat of the late ‘90s remained? Regardless of the speculation, what we’re actually left with is a Pantera tribute act- Zakk Wylde straight up admitted that recently- and while Zakk and Charlie Benante are clearly genuine in their affections and work overtime to do the Abbotts and their music justice, nobody could pretend the act calling themselves Pantera in 2023 is anywhere near the real thing.

Rest in Peace

Diamond/Dimebag Darrell Lance Abbott (August 20, 1966-December 8, 2004)

Vinnie Paul Abbott (March 11, 1964-June 18, 2018)