perfidy

There's a post I was going to write about the murder of "Dimebag" Darryl, but didn't.

I had a little intro about the first time I heard Pantera, in a barracks in 1992. I tied that experience into broader themes in my life at that time and, after a re-read, had to cop that the intro was really just a vehicle to talk about myself and therefore highly inappropriate.

I planned to touch on the music, but had to be careful not to come across as a wanna-be. I have some Pantera records, but to me Far Beyond Driven is still their new record; I don't know anything about Damageplan. Still there were some half-decent turns of phrase: Dimebag could "bring the sweet but never sacrifice the sledge" with his playing; or, how his sense of harmony and melody was never drowned by his heavy riffs- anything he wrote would never be confused for something by those two cute lesbos from Nelson. I was even going to title the piece something like "Sure, the Vibe Awards but a metal show?!" to prompt an initial cynical snicker.

But I realized a couple things, and they were enough to derail the initial post.

I realized that there will be no shortage of half-assed tributes in the coming days: from your local rock station that likes to think it really rocks and maybe played a couple Pantera singles in 1993 and now broke out the black scrim in the studio to be in mourning over the terrific loss of this guitar player that those jocks sort of heard of once and that their 14-year-old sons explained that they should express feeling loss over; to MTV, which will likely have some sort of extended commentary about Pantera or Damageplan and we're all supposed to forget that MTV became a wholly-owned subsidiary of Hip-Hop Marketing, Inc many years ago and couldn't pick Darryl out of a lineup where the other suspects resembled NBA players. There was other coverage as well, from Howard Stern, the most influential man in broadcast radio who didn't even now who the guy was and made no apologies for it; and Howie Carr, right-wing Boston blowhard who spent an hour referring to the victim as "Dirtbag" and to Pantera as "Pantload". Carr's a real hoot.

So I think I did the world a favor by sparing it one more opinion, one more explanation of his contributions, one more defense of his existence, one more half-assed tribute.

And I realized something else. As of this writing, three other people were killed by the gunman, and the shooter himself was killed by police. But most of us were really only interested, beyond that initial five minutes, because we lost Dimebag. That's a goddamned shame, because it's not about one picker from one metal band; another overdosed junky or ugly plane crash or singer who drank himself to death. It was no accident. It's also about three dead fans, all gone for nothing and forever. Because of one goofy fucker with a gun. And who in one final "fuck you" moment to the world didn't surrender to police but let himself be killed, denying us the satisfaction of his becoming some thug's wife in prison.

I'm upset that we normals have to share the planet with the unpredicatble and dangerous goofy fuckers. And I'm disappointed that the kid just didn't off himself, instead of all these other people.

And I'm sorry.

And I guess that's all.