20 September 11 - 17, 2025 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents Cowboys From Hell Pantera’s long-awaited return ignites a night of metal mayhem, fiery tributes and hometown pride at the Dos Equis Pavilion. BY PRESTON BARTA T he air at Dos Equis Pavilion on Wednesday night was thick with anticipation, sweat and the unmistakable electricity of a city welcoming back its prodigal sons. Pantera, the legendary Arlington-born metal band, headlined their first hometown show in over 20 years as part of The Heavi- est Tour of the Summer. With a lineup that also featured the brutal Flesh Hoarder, the chaotic King Parrot and the Viking-laden theatrics of Amon Amarth, the night was a stunning study in heavy metal’s raw power and unrelenting energy. The evening began with Flesh Hoarder, a Texas-based brutal death metal band whose guttural growls and horror-in- spired themes set the tone for the night. Their set was a visceral experience, a sonic assault that felt like it was conjured in the depths of the underworld. If you’ve ever come across their tracks “Ritualistic Rape Victims” and “Ejaculating on the Faces of the Aborted,” you know they’re not for the faint of heart, but their unapol- ogetic ferocity is something to behold. Watching their vocalist unleash demonic screams that defy the limits of human vo- cal cords was mesmerizing. Next up was King Parrot, the Australian grindcore outfit known for their thrashy, high-octane performances. With song ti- tles like “Shit on the Liver” and “Fuck You and the Horse You Rode in On,” their ir- reverence was matched only by their re- lentless energy. Vocalist Matt “Youngy” Young prowled the stage like a man pos- sessed, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Their set was a chaotic, cathartic release, a perfect prelude to the night’s escalating intensity. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Amon Amarth took the stage and trans- formed the pavilion into a Viking battlefield. The Swedish melodic death metal band, known for their Norse mythology-inspired lyrics and imagery, delivered a performance that was equal parts concert and theatrical spectacle. Towering statues, battle-worn flags and a massive Viking helmet drum riser set the scene, while lightning effects and sword fights added to the immersive ex- perience. Frontman Johan Hegg wielded a giant Thor’s hammer, smashing it onto the stage with thunderous authority. “Dallas, are you ready to feast like Vikings tonight?” he roared, and the crowd re- sponded with a resounding war cry. Their set, which included anthems like “Raise Your Horns” and “Twilight of the Thunder God,” felt like a journey through the chaos of the North Sea, with the audience as willing crewmates on their longship. But the night truly belonged to Pantera. As the stage was prepared, a massive banner bearing the band’s name hung like a curtain, while a bittersweet reel of archival footage played before their set. The tribute to fallen members and brothers Dimebag Darrell and Vinnie Paul was a poignant reminder of the band’s legacy and the void left by their ab- sence. Their images adorned the bass drums, and their presence was palpable throughout the performance. Frontman Philip Anselmo, with his signature growl, addressed the crowd early on: “Dime and Vinnie are always here with us. This is their city, and this is their night.” When the banner finally dropped, Pantera launched into a blistering set that spanned their storied career. From the opening notes of “Suicide Note, Pt. 2” to the anthemic “Cowboys from Hell,” the band delivered a performance that was both ferocious and deeply personal. The legendary Zakk Wylde, filling the massive shoes of Dimebag on guitar, channeled the late guitarist’s spirit with searing solos and a stage presence that felt larger than life. Behind the kit, Charlie Benante — longtime drummer for Anthrax — stepped in to honor Vinnie Paul’s legacy with a powerful and dynamic performance, en- suring the rhythm section remained as thunderous as ever. And original bassist Rex Brown’s talents rumbled through the crowd, anchoring the chaos with preci- sion. The crowd, a sea of black T-shirts and raised fists, was on its feet for the entirety of Pantera’s set. The fire show during “Walk” and “Cowboys from Hell” was a spectacle in itself, with flames shooting high enough to be felt by those in the first 30 rows. During “Walk,” members of the other bands joined Pantera on stage, blurring the line between performers and audience in a moment that felt like a giant metal family reunion. Anselmo’s voice, remarkably intact after more than three decades, cut through the night with razor-sharp clarity. His banter with the crowd was equal parts heartfelt and humorous, as he reminisced about the band’s history and their connection to Dallas. “We shot the video for ‘Mouth for War’ right here in Dallas,” he said, eliciting a roar of approval. “This city has always been our home.” The setlist was a well-balanced mix of hits and deep cuts, ensuring that both die- hard fans and casual listeners left satisfied. By the time the final notes of “Fucking Hos- tile” rang out, it was clear that Pantera had not only reclaimed their hometown but had also solidified their place as one of metal’s most enduring and influential bands. The night was a celebration of resilience, a trib- ute to fallen brothers and a reminder that the Cowboys from Hell will always ride high in Dallas. ▼ LOCAL MUSIC FALL INTO PLACE THE BECKLEYS SHARE THE STORY OF THEIR EARLY FORMATION AND WHAT THE BECKLEY HOUSE MEANS TO THEM. BY KENA SOSA N o one would have imagined back in 2017, when Noel Cerda bought a fixer-upper on Beckley Avenue, that it would shelter and grow a new gener- ation of musicians. He saw its flaws, but couldn’t know how pivotal the house would be to his brother, his friends and to their music. The songs inspired by the walls watching over the yard, guarding the classic Bel Air and 1951 Chevy Fleetline De- luxe, as pictured in their first self-titled EP, are adorned by murals of local music leg- ends Stevie Ray Vaughan and Erykah Badu. Images of these idols are sandwiched in by portraits of Sharon Jones and Gregory Isaacs were painted by an artist who texted that he was going to bake cookies and never showed up to get paid. The seeds were sown years ago in this tight-knit neighborhood in Oak Cliff when Noel’s brother, Eric Cerda and Alberto Ri- vera met in elementary school and took gui- tar lessons together. Acoustic at first, they later gravitated to the energy of the electric guitar. Rivera couldn’t see himself as a vocal- ist at the time, but the sentiment was there. Inspired by the lyrics and emotions of ran- chero, soulful ballads and the music of his heritage, he understood that the themes of love and heartbreak transcend language, background and genre. Young Rivera accompanied his grandfa- ther in local competitions, singing in restau- rants and clubs, sometimes turning his back to the audience while he summoned more confidence from their applause. Sometimes, he even competed against his grandpa. And even now, as his voice dances on the melo- dies commanding the eyes and ears, flicker- ing in and out of the lights, he tunes into his now and his past. Luis Rodriguez moved into the neigh- borhood and knew Cerda. Rodriguez loved the band Interpol and jumped to see them in Dallas. Between songs, Cerda pushed their demos on Rodriguez. Deep in the bliss-tangled crowd, Rodriguez finally ac- cepted the pushy offer to play drums. They still needed a bassist. As the puzzle assem- bled itself, it just so happened that Rodri- guez knew a bassist from high school, Anthony Najera. A full enough sound, their influences and instincts told them, or maybe just Rivera told them, they needed a keyboardist. That was the one piece barren in their neighbor- hood. Yet, their influences: ‘80s indie rock, soul, new wave, progressive, Latin and Ibero-American rock demanded some keys. No one had any leads, so they put out an ad on Craigslist. Admittedly, they were a bit scared of what or who they might find. A few questionable encounters later, and they got a response from a suburban, classically- trained pianist Mollie Ramsey Valenzuela. Cerda couldn’t help but wonder, what kind of person would drive in from the suburbs to play there? She might be the craziest one of them, or she might be just what they needed. Valenzuela did wonder what she was get- ting herself into. After all, she was answer- ing an ad on Craigslist. She had plenty of time to contemplate as she drove down from Lewisville to Oak Cliff, but could not resist her urge to play. She just wanted to play mu- sic, wherever or with whoever. She admits there were a few times when that may have gotten her into trouble, but laughs it off. “My favorite memory of the Beckley house was the first time I went to audition. When I got there, Eric was hiding whatever happened there the night before, putting a can behind a chair, just trying to make sure it was nice for me,” Valenzuela says. Cerda laughs it off. He was scared she would be intimidated seeing the house, but all she wanted was to play music, no matter where. They laughed together after feeling each other out. “It’s like a puzzle,” Rivera says, “you have to find the right people who fit.” The lost puzzle piece was found. They were perfect for each other. The group did everything in the house— partied, chilled, laughed and sang—but | B-SIDES | ▼ Music Preston Barta Zakk Wylde salutes the heavens, channels Dimebag Darrell’s spirit.
