TRIBUTE TO DARRELL "DIMEBAG" ABBOTT
The first time I met Darrell Abbott, he came to Savvy's Nightclub to watch my band Savvy play. He was only around 17 years old at the time. Darrell didn't have to sneak in with a fake ID. His father, Jerry Abbott, had been involved with our album production at Pantego Sound Studios and was a friend of ours. Jerry Abbott knew that both of his sons were gifted musicians even at that age, and actually accompanied them to Savvy's so they could see live bands and set in from time to time to start honing their chops. The photo on the left was taken at Savvy's on one of those occasions. Skinny little Darrell, with his perm and braces was sipping a coke from a Hurricane glass. His dad Jerry is seen talking game plans with Rex, who would eventually become the bass player for Pantera.
This is how I remember Darrell Abbott; seeing him sitting in the audience with his dad, brother Vinnie, and friend Rex, watching us on stage. Darrell was meek and mild in those days - a very polite and respectful youngster. It was obvious that he was approaching this music thing as a business. He didn't say much in those early days. He didn't have to. His guitar did his talking for him. He won every big guitar competition in town. I was busy playing with Savvy six nights a week and only saw Pantera when they sat in with us. As they took off on their meteoric rise to the top of the metal world, my decade in the music business was coming to its end. Just as I traded in my guitar for college books, Darrell and Vinnie were poised to start trading in demo tapes for hit records. A new era was dawning in rock and roll. It was their era now. Mine had passed.
I knew Darrell. I didn't know Dimebag. But from what I've heard from those who knew him well up until his final days, his heart never changed. He grew up to be what we all knew he would be. He was simply the best. There's a lot of shtick and hoopla in rock and roll sometimes, and to look at the man they called "Dimebag" you might think that Darrell Abbott bought into all that stuff too. But I know now that everything Darrell did - he meant it with all his heart. Every tattoo paid serious tribute to something that had influenced him in his life. Every word he said was from the heart. He was a true philanthropist. He was the first one on the scene when help was needed. What was his was yours. So they tell me. I'm not surprised.
The day Darrell was gunned down, the TV screen was filled with the top names in rock music, all paying tribute to their fallen friend. They all said the same things about him. And all the things they said were the same things I'd thought about him when he was just a kid with a poodle do. He was a mega talented person with a huge heart. I recall thinking that he was far too nice to ever make it in the music business and feared it would eat him alive. How ironic that it would be Darrell who would be eating up the music scene and take the metal world by storm. The web is saturated with tributes to his memory. It's about all we can do.
The Darrell that I miss, mourn, and celebrate may have looked a lot different than the pictures we see of the stocky wild man with the red goatee and brown tangled mane, but I think the essence of the two are the same. Much the same. My heart goes out to the family, his friends, and fans. SJ