Pantera's Philip Anselmo brings his trend-setting howl to Knoxville as frontman for Superjoint Ritual.
by Mike Gibson
You can hear Philip Anselmo's influence all over rock radio today, even if you can't hear much of Philip Anselmo himself.
The lead singer of Pantera, Down, and now Superjoint Ritual has seen dozens of recent nu-metal pretenders cop elements of both his ferocious howl and his bellicose stage presence, as well as Pantera's highly regimented crunch. But while the overly pierced likes of Godsmack, Disturbed and Korn grimace painfully on MTV2, Anselmo and the units he fronts remain largely absent from mainstream media outlets.
"Radio stations didn't make our bands; it was always the fan base," Anselmo says in a recent phone interview. His speaking voice is as striking as his infamous onstage roar, a creaking-hinge rasp serrated by the years of late nights and smoky clubs.
"I think a lot of bands straight up ripped us off. I've personally had lots to do with the image of American young people today, and the music they listen to. Before Pantera, nobody had a bald lead singer who barked like I did. It's frustrating, because you know you've done this music at least 10 years before these other people.
"But it's a fickle business. Who's getting the maximum shove, and who's blowing who? Well, we never blew anyone. We did things the way we wanted, even if we ran straight into a brick wall.
"I hate what they call nu-metal. It's pathetic, and it's embarrassing—heavy metal with some white kid rapping over it. It's a bad cross of two styles that were powerful enough on their own."
The hard-living, hard-touring frontman of Pantera since the late 1980s, Anselmo has earned the right to pass judgment. Renowned for his intense persona, both onstage and off, he's a horror movie buff and a fight fanatic; he brings a boxing trainer on tour when his schedule permits. (He claims to have given jazz crooner Harry Connick a bloody nose at a summer camp outing in second grade.)
All of his musical endeavors share the unifying link of his distinctive vocals, arguably the most galvanizing and kinetic that heavy rock has produced in the last 15 years. But while his other units operated almost exclusively within the rigid framework of heavy metal, Superjoint Ritual channels the raw, hurtling energy of '80s hardcore punk. Their debut record, Use Once and Destroy on Sanctuary, fuses the eruptive mayhem of Black Flagg with the dissonant bludgeon of early thrash.
"This band has been more hands-on for me, in that I write a lot more of the music," Anselmo says. "I realize that in Pantera, we kind of invented a style, but that rhythmic, machine-like tightness is not where my heart's at. My roots are in old hardcore bands, and Superjoint Ritual is more a reflection of that."
Anselmo isn't the only Superjoint member with a pedigree; fellow New Orleans, La., native Jimmy Bowers (guitar) is a member of long-running underground metallists Eyehategod. And bassist Hank III, a Nashvillian, is the offspring of Hank Williams Jr., and grandson of country music's most storied performer.
Anselmo first met III when he (Hank III) was playing drums for the Nashville metal trio Buzzkill in the mid-'90s. Anselmo says the talented multi-instrumentalist and singer is perpetually torn between the heavy rock now so close to his heart and the traditional country that is his birthright.
"He's a good kid, with his own thing going on," Anselmo says. "Everyone's trying to push him to do the country and western thing, and I think he's got some of that in him. But I think this kind of music is really where his head is at."
If the members' past musical ventures offer any clue, Superjoint Ritual promises to be even more combustible in live performance than on record. At a recent show, the crush of frenzied fans brought down the barricade separating band from audience, spilling more than 300 kids on stage.
"You don't see that anymore, bands pushing people like that," Anselmo says. "A guy from England told us last week, 'You are the most dangerous band I've ever seen in my life.' And it's true. When we play live, we come to kill. When the kids recognize me up there, they know they're in for some hell."
Anselmo isn't sure when Pantera will record again. "After our last record, I felt like we needed a hiatus," he says. "If the day comes when it's important we work together again, then I'm there. I'm not sure the guys (in Pantera) understood where I'm coming from. I didn't want to be a guy on stage whipping a dead horse."
In the meantime, Superjoint Ritual has become Anselmo's first priority. The band's second album, A Lethal Dose of American Hatred, is due out soon, also on Sanctuary.
"Superjoint is a very powerful outlet for me," Anselmo says. "It's a beautiful voice in a very drab musical world. Where my head is at right now, it's time for a band like Superjoint Ritual to present itself. The world needs us."
May 22, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 21
© 2003 Metro Pulse
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