You never really know what someone is going through. Not at the gas station. Not in traffic. And certainly not at a heavy metal concert. The faces in the crowd, some pierced, some painted, some beaming, don’t always tell the full story. That sentiment hit harder than usual on September 9th, as I found myself walking alone into Pantera at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, heart heavy and thoughts distant.
Some come to these shows for the pageantry of the noise, the lights, and the sense of rebellion. Some are looking to blow off steam with a few beers and buddies. Others show up because the ticket was free and they had nowhere else to be. But sometimes, when your world feels hollow and unfamiliar, and grief follows you like a shadow, a metal show becomes something else entirely. A place of comfort. A crucible for catharsis. And if you’re lucky enough, a place for healing. You wouldn’t expect the words “Pantera” and “healing” to be used in the same sentence, but then again, nothing about grief, or this band, is expected.
The night’s energy was heavy long before the first note. This wasn’t just another date on the tour. This was a homecoming. The last time Pantera played SPAC was 25 years ago as part of Ozzfest 2000. A different world, a different lineup, and two fewer Abbot brothers on the stage. The “Heaviest Tour of the Summer” was originally slated for July but was postponed after the death of their mentor, Ozzy Osbourne. That absence loomed large over the night, a silent but sacred presence. It had been two and a half decades since Saratoga Springs felt the sonic rage of Pantera, and now, after the breakups, the tragedies, and the rebirth, they were back. Older, wiser, weathered, but still, unmistakably, Pantera.
Before the Texas legends took the stage, we were treated to the frenzied chaos of King Parrot, an Australian grindcore band that hurled themselves into a 30-minute aural assault that felt like a punk rock fire drill. They were unhinged, frantic, and wildly entertaining. Like watching a brawl break out in a basement bar and realizing too late that you’re loving every second of it. With a sly humor beneath the aggression, it was the kind of jarring, primal warm-up that either throws you in the deep end or drags you there by the collar.
Then came Amon Amarth, the Swedish warlords of melodic death metal, who transformed SPAC into a Viking battlefield. Flanked by massive statues and a glowing Viking helmet drum riser, they brought myth, metal, and pageantry in equal measure. Heavily influenced by J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, their name actually translates to ‘Mount Doom,’ the volcano location in Middle-earth. Songs like “Guardians of Asgaard” and “The Pursuit of Vikings” weren’t just brutal, they were immersive. Frontman Johan Hegg and crew tore into tracks like “Shield Wall,” “Raise Your Horns” and “Twilight of the Thunder God” with thunderous intent. They headbanged in tight, synchronized formation, their long blond hair whipping like war flags in the wind. Yet even amid the theatrics, there was warmth. Hegg grinned often, shouting out Saratoga and thanking Pantera for bringing them on tour. “Put Your Back Into the Oar” and “We Rule the Waves” turned the pit into a roiling sea of fists. By set’s end, the crowd was primed and fully initiated into the Viking brotherhood. Finally, it was time for the main event.
As the smoke cleared and intermission ended, a massive Pantera curtain with spinning marijuana leaves projected onto it was draped across the stage. Suddenly the house lights went out and the haunting acoustic intro of “Suicide Note, Pt. 1” played over the PA. Delicate, eerie, and reflective, the deeper themes were already sinking in. The song, a rare outlier in Pantera’s catalog with keyboards and a sorrowful introspection, set the emotional tone. This wasn’t just another metal show, this was a moment of mourning. A nod to loss. To addiction. To pain. And to all the things metal fans don’t always talk about, but feel deeply. It was a jarring contrast to the chaos that would follow, a choice that felt intentional. And then the curtain dropped.
The transition into “Suicide Note, Pt. 2” was instant whiplash. Gone were the acoustics. In came a sonic sledgehammer and the crowd exploded. Twenty-five years ago, I saw Pantera here at SPAC. The venue looks basically the same, but everything else has changed. We’ve lost legends. Dimebag Darrell, murdered on stage in 2004. Vinnie Paul, gone in 2018. The surviving members, Phil Anselmo and Rex Brown, spent years estranged before announcing the reunion tour in late 2022. They weren’t trying to replace their fallen brothers. This wasn’t a cash grab. This was a celebration. Projected images of Dimebag and Vinnie, immortalized on Charlie Benante’s drum kit, reminded us this version of Pantera is, by design, a tribute and on this night, it felt like one
Phil Anselmo, now 57, proved time has only sharpened his edge. His growls are no less guttural, his energy undimmed. He barked, roared, and prowled the stage like a caged animal with a vendetta. In complete command as he roared through anthems like “Hellbound,” “Strength Beyond Strength,” and “5 Minutes Alone” with both rage and reverence. There’s a reason he’s one of the most iconic frontmen in heavy metal. The snarls, his testosterone-fueled pacing, the menacing eye contact. But on this night, his power came from somewhere deeper. He seemed grateful to be there, was having fun and seemed bound and determined to make sure everyone else at SPAC was having, too.
Connecting with the audience in heartfelt moments that weren’t manufactured, he was giving us everything he had. As always, Anselmo was quick to remind us that crowd participation at a Pantera show was mandatory and joked that security has been advised to throw people out of the venue if they get caught sitting down. He would goad fans all night too, calling out the people on the back lawn, and those who were apparently busy on their phones. By mid-set, like a true master of his craft, Phil got his way and had the crowd eating out of the palm of his hands with everyone locked in, fists raised, and voices hoarse.
Introducing “Becoming” as something everybody can dance to, if you can cut through the sheer brutality of the music and the guttural screams, Pantera has always had a strong groove component to their songs. Even if you can’t decipher what Anselmo is curdling about, the music still has that special flare for being catchy. While some may want to fight me on this, I’ve long seen the band as a natural conduit in the evolution of rock ‘n roll, influencing far more than just the heavy metal genre. Perhaps finding a second bizzarro home in the jam world, hell, who could forget Umphrey’s McGee covering “Walk” at the Stone Pony, or Dopapod bassist Chuck Jones regularly playing gigs in a Pantera shirt? Then, of course, there are some out there who even believe “Tweezer,” one of Phish’s biggest jam vehicles, is just a slowed down rip-off of the early Pantera B-side “Killers.” Based on the clips below, it’s hard to argue there isn’t a strong similarity.
The setlist at SPAC, however, was a near-perfect cross-section of Pantera’s career. From the groove-laden “I’m Broken” to the unrelenting stomp of “Goddamn Electric,” the show played was a greatest-hits sledgehammer. The more introspective “10’s” and “I’ll Cast a Shadow” slowed things down just enough for the weight of the lyrics to land, while “This Love” turned into a full-throated singalong that was part love letter, part war cry, part therapy.
Zakk Wylde, stepping into the impossible role of filling Dimebag Darrell’s shoes, was simply phenomenal. Bringing his own unique fire, fury and style, he wasn’t trying to replace Dime, he was honoring him. Every squeal, divebomb, and harmonic he delivered had purpose. Passion paired with precision. As Ozzy’s longtime guitarist and a lifelong friend of the Abbot brothers, he was the only person who could do this gig justice. He played the songs his way but with a reverence that was palpable. You could feel Dime’s spirit, not copied, but echoed in every note. On the drums, Charlie Benante was a force of nature, too. The Anthrax timekeepers massive kit, etched with tributes to Dime and Vinnie, sat high like a shrine. His playing was tight, brutal, and respectful. Rex Brown, always the silent assassin on bass, held it down with stoic grace, locking in with Benante’s double kicks and machine-gun fills that gave the show the thunder it demanded. But nothing hit quite like “Cowboys from Hell.” The stage shook. The pit surged. And for a moment, it felt like it was 1994 again.
As if the vibes weren’t raucous enough already, when Pantera returned for an encore, they decidedly took things to “A New Level.” Raising the energy higher than a Rob Van Dam frog splash, “Walk” blew the roof off the place with the iconic riff that made every wrestling fan and mosh pit kid feel 10 feet tall. One of metal’s greatest anthems, the crowd became a single, pulsating unit. “Respect! Walk! Are you talkin’ to me?” screamed thousands of voices in unison. You couldn’t help but feel it in your bones. Then came the sleeper highlight of the night, a mashup of “Domination” and “Hollow” that was a brutal yet groovy gut-punch from their earlier days. And then… “Fucking Hostile.” The final purge. The exorcism. The release. Screaming those words with everything I had, wasn’t just fun. It was healing. But what followed I’ll never forget.
It was obvious the show was over and the band wasn’t going to be playing anymore. But in a palpable exchange of gratitude, the members of Pantera hung around on stage long after the final note, soaking in the cheers while passing out drumsticks, guitar pics and the always sought after setlists. You could tell they appreciated us just as much as we appreciate them. Then in what seemed like a spontaneous moment, Phil grabbed the mic to thank everybody once again and said ”There’s really only one way to end this show. Take a deep breath and drive home sober” before crooning out the final verse of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.” A goose-bump inducing moment that left the metal crowd momentarily speechless. Bookending the night with reoccurring themes of life and death and Heaven and Hell, I knew sonically this show would be heavy, but mentally I was caught off guard.
On the way out, weaving through the crowd in that strange, post-show daze, I caught sight of a hoodie in front of me. Scribbled across the back it said:
“Dear person behind me, I know things are tough, but there are brighter days ahead of you. Don’t lose sight.
Love, The person in front of you.”
I stopped. I read it again. I nearly lost it. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just another hoodie. But in that moment, it felt like a message from the universe.
I came to this show with a heavy heart, unsure if I even belonged there. But somehow, between the thunderous riffs, the shared grief, and the echoes of legends past, I found something unexpected. Comfort. Support. Peace. Heavy metal gets a bad rap, but the truth is, it has always been about facing the darkness and pushing through it. On a night of remembrance, rage, and resilience, Pantera reminded us that even the loudest, angriest music can offer solace. And that sometimes, the heaviest shows bring the lightest hearts. At SPAC, Pantera delivered a eulogy, hosted a celebration, and provided a sanctuary. It was everything I needed it to be. It may have been 25 years since their last Saratoga performance, but after this, it won’t be forgotten for another 25.
Rest easy, Dime. Vinnie. Ozzy. Mom. And everyone we’ve lost along the way. We carry you with us in every note.
Pantera | September 9, 2025 | SPAC | Saratoga Springs, NY
Setlist: Suicide Note Pt. 1 (tape), Suicide Note Pt. 2, Hellbound, 5 Minutes Alone, Strength Beyond Strength, Mouth For War, Goddamn Electric, Becoming, I’m Broken, 10’s, I’ll Cast a Shadow, This Love, Cowboys From Hell
Encore: A New Level, Walk, Domination/Hollow, Fucking Hostile, Stairway to Heaven outro
Amon Amarth | September 9, 2025 | SPAC | Saratoga Springs, NY
Setlist: Guardians of Asgaard, Shield Wall, The Pursuit of Vikings, Deceiver of the Gods, Put Your Back Into the Oar, We Rule The Waves, The Way of Vikings, Raise Your Horns, Twilight of the Thunder God.
King Parrot | September 9, 2025 | SPAC | Saratoga Springs, NY
Setlist: Guardians Bozo, Disgrace Yourself, Target Pig Elite, Psychotherapy and Valium, Shit on the Liver, Hell Comes Your Way, Home Is Where the Gutter Is, Fuck You and The Horse You Rode In On.
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