REBEL MEETS REBEL: Rebel Meets Rebel (Big Vin Records)
By Fizz
Rating: 8.5
For most of my life, I’ve hated country music. I didn’t have much exposure to it either, since my father was the only one in the family who actually liked it, at least in the ’80’s. It didn’t matter, I still hated it. And then, sometime in the mid-’90’s, the unthinkable happened: country became cool. Oh, I don’t mean it was cool to ME, because I still refused to have anything to do with it. But for my mom and her sisters, who had up until that point listened to top-40 radio, country was the new frontier. After all, the top-40 stations were starting to play more rap and R&B, and suddenly, thanks to Garth Brooks (and to a lesser degree, a mulleted clod named Billy Ray Cyrus), you didn’t have to be a hillbilly to like country music. You could settle for being a suburbanite pretending to be a hillbilly, going to line-dancing classes and sporting a ridiculous cowboy hat in the grocery store. After all, the “young country” being played on the new radio stations that sprang up in our area was really little more than lite-rock with a twang. But to my teenage metal heart, it was The Enemy.
Actually, I still hate about 90% of country music, and just about 100% of the recent crop. But somewhere in my college years, another strange thing happened. I developed a bit of a taste for old country, REAL country. Was it a rebellion against my “hip” northern classmates and their Weezer records? Were my musical tastes getting softer? Or did it have something to do with my newfound pastime, drinking? Or did I just need some late-night bum-out music?
But enough about me. Along comes Rebel Meets Rebel, a group consisting of Vinnie Paul and the late, great Dimebag Darrell of Pantera fame, their bassist Rex Brown (who is, I’m sure, used to being an afterthought), and behind the microphone, none other than legendary country outlaw David Allan Coe. (For the uninitiated, Coe penned such gems as “Jack Daniel’s, If You Please,” “Longhaired Redneck,” and the classic, tongue-in-cheek “You Never Even Called Me By My Name,” among many others. He also released a pair of highly controversial, X-rated albums, which got him branded a racist, and even more unfairly, helped him to be endlessly confused with KKKountry singer Johnny Rebel.) Pantera was always one of my favorite metal bands, and Coe was one of the artists I gravitated to in my exploration of country music, so needless to say, this was something I had to hear.
So what might a project featuring these worthy gents sound like? This is one case where the simplest answer is also the best: it sounds exactly like what you might expect it to. Neither Coe or the Cowboys From Hell change their respective styles all that much, and yet the music (recorded between 1999 and 2003) works amazingly well. Musically, there are still the meaty riffs and crushing grooves we’ve come to expect from Pantera, with Coe’s rich, melodic voice laid over top. Maybe the music isn’t quite as aggressive or chugging as some of Pantera’s output, but it’s still obvious from the start who’s playing.
“Nothin’ to Lose” starts things off with some Eddie Van Halen-like whooping and squawking, before exploding into a fast and heavy boogie, the swiftest track on the album. And then DAC comes in with his seasoned, bluesy vocals. This song is pure, shit-kicking fun, and my favorite on the disc. Actually, it sounds a lot like an American Dog song, and what’s wrong with that?
Wonders don’t cease after the first song though. Hell no! The rest of the album is full of delights and surprises. The self-referential “Rebel Meets Rebel” is a hoot, with its banr-dance fiddle mixed in with the heavy crunch of Dime’s guitar. (As a side note, let me just get it out of the way that I really don’t like Rebel Meets Rebel as a band name. Okay?) “Cowboys Do More Dope” features some tasty honky-tonk piano alongside its chunky, groove. Darrell offers up a blazing solo near track’s end as well. Meanwhile, “Heartworn Highway” sports a bruising, double-time midsection, like the best of Pantera, and then dissolves into noodly blues-guitar heaven for the last minute or so.
A bit later on, we’re treated to “Get Outta My Life,” a rousing number with a great shout-along chorus, and some of DAC’s biting, half-spoken lyrics in the verses (think “If That Ain’t Country”). It’s a tune about finally getting rid of that person who’s nothing but trouble, an empowering dump-song. There’s just something about hearing a sixty-something redneck holler “Get outta my motherfuckin’ life!” that tickles me. And oh yeah, nice bongo drums! “Cherokee Cry” follows suit with a killer groove, and Rex gets to make his presence known on the bass, something he rarely got to do in Pantera.
Two of the heaviest tracks lurk near the end of the record. Is Coe trying on a bit of Phil Anselmo growling in “Time?” Not too much, don’t worry. And then “No Compromise,” as the name suggests, is the undisputed heavyweight champion, sounding more like Pantera than anything on the disc. Note Dime’s signature ear-splitting solo that’ll set the neighbor’s dog howling. (Personally, I didn’t think he needed to play that part twice, but that’s just me.)
There are some mellower moments scattered over the landscape as well, like scrub brush in the desert. “Panfilo” is a short, acoustic instrumental on which, I believe, DAC lends a hand, that flows seamlessly into “Heartworn Highway.” “Arizona Rivers” is a serene track with distant, echoey vocals over placid guitar and piano that makes me think of lounging in the shade on a hot afternoon.
The album wraps up with “N.Y.C. Streets,” the lone song that veers into novelty territory. Acoustic guitars strum, a kick-drum keeps time, and Coe plays the part of the out-of-place country bumpkin in the Big Apple, hurling jabs at the Cowboy Junkies, Prince and “freaks on the corner with hair dyed blue.” Later, he name-checks Pantera, Iron Maiden and Motorhead, chortling, “Heh! Heavy metal ain’t dead!” Some sort of mouth-instrument appears as well, I’m not sure if it’s a harmonica or some kind of flute. DAC delights in co-opting metal slang learned from his new friends, repeatedly exclaiming ‘Hey dude!” as in this interlude from near the end: “Hey, dude! Check it out! I got this tape by some friends of mine called Blowjob! You gotta hear these guys!” Finally, we hear a loud crash, as though Vinnie pushed over his drum kit, and someone utters a deeply-satisfied “Fuckin’-A!” And then it’s time to hit repeat.
One of the most striking things about Rebel Meets Rebel is the marvelous sense of fun in the music, something that was at times sorely missing from Pantera’s later albums. These guys sound like they’re having a blast making these tunes, thanks in large part to David Allan Coe. Out is the brooding, self-absorbed fuckup Phil Anselmo, and in is the more lighthearted (and melodious) Coe. I’m guessing the lyrics are mostly his, as they deal with typical country-and-western fare, all about kicking ass, taking no shit, and life on the ramble (or on the run.
A lot of bands have tried to inject their normally rockin’ music with varying doses of country charm. The results range from the intentionally campy (Nashville Pussy), to the solid but seldom-heard (Every Mother’s Nightmare), the musically sterling but somehow fake (Pride and Glory). But Rebel Meets Rebel is the first time I’ve ever heard out-and-out, headbanging METAL being infused with such textures. And really, Pantera were the only band who could do it, when you come right down to it. I always thought that, lurking somewhere deep inside their monster riffs and neck-snapping grooves, there was a foot-stomping southern-rock band waiting to be let out. And now we have the proof (although the flair is more western than southern), and in David Allan Coe, the boys have the genuine redneck credibility that the posturing Zakk Wylde can only dream about. Rebel Meets Rebel is an awesome, fluid, multi-faceted record. Most country fans probably won’t like it much, and some hardcore metalheads won’t either, but for those who can appreciate a little something different, this is sure to please.
Best songs: “Nothin’ to Lose,” “Cowboys Do More Dope,” “Heartworn Highway”
Worst song: “One Nite Stands”
