Call it an early onset of mid-life crisis, but I’ve made the decision that my birthday/Crimbo present this year will be a proper, honest to goodness electric guitar. Probly one of these bad boys. I’m bored with my acoustic, it’s just stopped being fun to play.

Anyway, as part of the research procedure, I’ve started buying guitar mags again, which took me back to when I was young and stupid and used to buy them on a regualr basis, to drool over custom axes that I could never (and still can’t) afford. Imagine my amusement to see that some of the shredders who used to clog up the tutorial sections of these magazines are still there, teaching kids who should know better about two-hand tapping and sweep arpeggios. Imagine my surprise to read about this cowboy from hell and his untimely demise.

Metal just got itself a martyr. Rest easy, Dimebag.

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Published by

Rob

Writer. Film-maker. Cartoonist. Cook. Lover.

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