Pantera made groove metal a thing. Anselmo made my brain short-circuit.
With Cowboys from Hell, I’ve officially made my way into groove metal. Released in 1990, this was their fifth studio album (because apparently it takes three full glam misfires before you decide to get serious), and it’s widely credited as the first groove metal album to ever exist. No pressure.
“Wait, Who the Hell Are Pantera?”
Yes, I admit it. Before this blog project, I had never heard of Pantera. Cue the collective metalhead gasp. I’ll give you a second to recover.
And honestly? It’s baffling. Because Pantera isn’t exactly an obscure footnote in metal history—they didn’t walk metal into a new era—they kicked it screaming through the door.
Originally formed as Gemini, then Eternity (so dramatic), and finally Pantera in 1981, they were born in Arlington, Texas by the Abbott brothers—Vinnie Paul on drums and Darrell (later Dimebag Darrell, because of course) on guitar. They were joined by vocalist Terry Glaze, and later bassist Rex Brown in 1982.
The Brothers Grim
Reading about the Abbott brothers immediately gave me Stooges déjà vu—another pair of genre-defining siblings with rhythm and guitar coursing through their veins. But the Pantera story? It doesn’t end with chaos. It starts there.
Dimebag Darrell is still hailed as one of the best guitarists to ever live, and the way he died reads like the kind of horror story metal lyrics are usually about. In 2004, he was murdered on stage, mid-performance with Damageplan. Shot at point-blank range by a fan who blamed him for Pantera’s breakup. Three others were killed. Several more wounded. It’s the kind of story that knocks the wind out of you, even now.
Vinnie Paul passed away in 2018 from a heart attack. Both brothers now rest beside their mother in Arlington. Legends, buried with their roots.
Enter: Phil Anselmo, and the Death of Spandex
Anselmo joined the band in 1986, replacing Glaze and giving Pantera the jolt of venom they’d been missing. Their first three albums were pure spandex-era glam metal nonsense, bless them. Think hairspray, neon, and riffs that sounded like they were trying too hard to be liked.
But with Power Metal (1988), Anselmo made his debut—and everything changed. The eyeliner started running. The riffs got heavier. The whole vibe screamed, "We’re done playing nice."
It helped that Pantera ditched their in-house producer (read: Vinnie and Darrell’s country music songwriter dad, because this band cannot stop being ridiculous) and started leaning into the dirt.
The Moment the Doors Blew Off
Then came Cowboys from Hell. Signed by Atco Records, Pantera finally had the big-label push—and they used it to punch a hole in the sound barrier.
The first song I ever heard by them? The title track. I hit play, and by 0:34—when Darrell drops that riff—I was officially not the same person anymore. That guitar doesn’t enter the song. It detonates it.
Vinnie’s drumming is relentless. Anselmo’s voice tears between screams, snarls, and that unhinged preacher energy only he can deliver. And Darrell? Just casually tossing off the kind of solo that rewires your spine. The whole thing is four minutes of perfectly controlled chaos, ending in a grunt so metal it should be carved into granite.
Cemetery Gates: Because Yes, He Can Sing
If Cowboys from Hell is a battering ram, then Cemetery Gates is the cinematic slow-mo shot of the aftermath. A metal power ballad that shows Anselmo can actually sing when he wants to (rude).
Darrell’s opening riff? Hooked me instantly. The tempo shift? Nice. Anselmo’s vocals? Way cleaner than they have any right to be—and when he does let the grit and the scream creep in, it’s spine-tingling.
The final minute is a full-on duel between his voice and Darrell’s guitar, and honestly? They both win.
Bonus shoutout to the solo at 3:30, which deserves its own shrine.
Other Favourites (aka Songs That Made the Playlist Immediately)
I’ve listened to the album several times now, and there isn’t a single track I’d skip. Heresy and Domination in particular have found a very comfy home on my playlist, right next to Cemetery Gates and Cowboys from Hell. These songs bite. They growl. They groove.
Groove Metal: Less Speed, More Swagger
Cowboys from Hell didn’t just launch Pantera into the spotlight—it birthed a subgenre. Groove metal took the skeleton of thrash, slowed it down, fattened the riffs, and cranked up the brutality. While thrash started to fade in the '90s, groove metal hit the gym, got meaner, and took over.
Bands like Sepultura and White Zombie ran with it. Even thrash staples like Anthrax and Testament started to borrow the vibe. And me? I’m fully sold. Groove metal is now a permanent fixture in my heavy rotation.