Man, this album grooves. Hard. These are some powerful jams that will really bust your chode. 420 really liked this album...before he died. And now he's rocking in Valhalla. But he will return. You'll see.
Chodes. In your face. Sputtering hardcore. That's what
Cowboys embodies. It's the hard chode, right after a workout session, in your face, beating your ***ing teeth out with how hard it is. Fists. Hard fists. Just like that.
Philip Anselmo had a mission. Glam was dead, it was time to single-handedly create the new breed of heavy metal; groove metal. Some say it was going on long before Pantera... I dare you to say that to Sir Philip Anselmo's face. He'd go down on you by delivering a superjoint ritual right to your ***ing lip.
This album is basically a collection of jams that all sound the same. Hard riffs, big dicks, sweaty chodes; A grandma's worst nightmare. Feel the beast. It rages on inside us all.
Inside.
Us.
All.
Philthy Philanthropist The Rock" Anselmo, or as I call him, Captain ***er, will beat your meat with his mighty vocals. He shrieks, grunts, screams, like your granddad straining out a turd after Thanksgiving feast. Shouldn't have ate that mac and cheese, you dirty son of a bitch. That's this album summed up. Mac and cheese at Thanksgiving, constipating you with its dirty power. Not for the faint of hard.
And lest we not forget the fallen warrior, Dimebag. RIP, brother.
Have fun with 420yeah666yeah69. In Valhalla, Texas. Drinking. Like hard men. With chodes.
