Let me make one thing perfectly clear right off the bat: I love Pantera. Their particular brand of in-your-face, street-wise heavy metal served me well through all the highs and lows of my life, from the time I finally passed 11th grade to the time I was arrested for seditious conspiracy, criminal trespassing, and assault on a Capitol police officer. So please don’t take this as an attack on “Cowboys from Hell,” because I absolutely love that album. On the whole, I just think “Vulgar Display of Power” is more consistent, and also I’d like to take this opportunity to thank President Trump for the January 6th pardon.
On “Vulgar Display of Power” we see a maturation in musicianship that shows itself in the performance of every member. Take “Fucking Hostile” for instance. It has a fury not seen anywhere on “Cowboys from Hell,” or, for that matter, Nancy Pelosi’s office before I broke in and took a shit in her wastepaper basket four years ago. There’s not a song on “Cowboys from Hell” that comes anywhere close to matching this type of aggression, which is an aggression that fueled my ascent up those Capitol stairs even though I hadn’t experienced any physical exertion for decades at that point.
Pantera is known as a violent band, and where did this violence originate? Certainly not with “Cowboys from Hell” which, while an outstanding album in its own right, is too mired in old-school thrash with just a hint of the good-time glam of the band’s old image for it to be the go-to album that demonstrates their sound. It’s not until “Vulgar Display of Power” that we hear that true Pantera sound that would show itself in later releases, particularly their stellar follow-up “Far Beyond Driven.” Even the album art, which looks eerily similar to the right hook I laid on the face of that cop who tried to wrench the can of bear mace out of my hands, is more fierce and unrelenting than that on “Cowboys from Hell.”
Pantera, much like myself and my proud patriot brothers who stormed the Capitol that day, has been unduly maligned in recent years. A Confederate flag in a promo shot and a few minor, verbal slipups from Phil Anselmo about white pride, and all of a sudden they’re the bad guys. Well, I think that’s a bunch of beans. I saw numerous upstanding citizens holding Confederate flags in our nation’s capital that day, and they loved their country as much as anyone brandishing a traitorous symbol while disrupting a congressional proceeding at the whims of an aloof billionaire from Queens possibly could.
I’ll close this out, appropriately enough, by touching on the album’s beautifully sonorous closer “Hollow.” Its somber tones were a perfect soundtrack to the regret I felt in the days after the insurrection; a regret that I’ve since learned was entirely misplaced after President Trump issued his sweeping pardons, thus validating my actions that day and emboldening me to continue this behavior going forward. It’s rare that such a tough, no-bullshit president can demonstrate such magnanimity towards his country, just as it’s rare that a band can concurrently be so aggressive and so melodious, and I’ll forever be grateful to both my favorite band and my favorite president for helping me see this.