The world of metal has its heroes and villains, those that stand out as paradigms of goodness, respect and an adherence to the metal code of honour (Ronnie James Dio, Steve Harris, Chuck Schuldiner, The Koller Brothers, Steve Brodsky et al). On the reverse side of the coin you have those ne’re do wells such as (and this is just my opinion) Sean Putnam, Varg Vikernes, Frankie Palmeri and others who either by their actions, beliefs or lyrical content, provoke feelings of hatred, disquiet and general fuck offery. Now, somewhere in between you have that purgatorial piece of land that some others exist within shades of grey, both revered as well as provoking feelings of abhorrence. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury I give you one Phillip Hansen Anselmo.

I appreciate that Big Phil is his own worst enemy at times and his flirtation (and some would say overt) with casual racism that has manifested itself on occasions throughout his career, have been discussed, documented and debated at length and Phil has certainly divided opinions in both public arenas and those within the metal community as a whole. Indeed there have been those such as Machine Head’s main man Robb Flynn, who called Anselmo out, at length, for an incident at a charity gig in memory of Anselmo’s fallen ex band mate Dimebag Darrell in 2016, that led to a host of gaslighting and hostile reactions to purported racial slurs and comments he drunkenly called out onstage. Let us be clear here, racism, in any form, is unacceptable …period. There can also be no doubt that whilst said acts of racism are deplorable (Anselmo has been eating several servings of humble pie ever since) that Anselmo, through his work with Pantera and the myriad of other side projects such as Down, Superjoint Ritual, Christ Inversion et al, is one of the metal scenes most impressive frontmen with his vocal range and stage presence one of the major factors behind Pantera’s global domination despite his own questionable socio/political views.

And so to 2020 and another side project, this time joining forces with old friends and bandmates Jimmy Bower, Kevin Bond and Stephen Taylor, plus others, for a more cerebral musical endeavour that really couldn’t be more removed from his illustrious back catalogue and previous musical oeuvre. So, to the music and what to make of it. Firstly, straight out of the gate, gone are the shredding guitars and bombastic double bass drums, replaced with brush stick drumming, swishing the cymbals like a tablecloth in a Parisian summer breeze. The acoustic guitars gently strum, providing a soft cosy chez lounge for Anselmo’s vocals, coming across as a mixture of Nick Drake and Tom Waits. Drawled, weathered like a cowboys face, you can literally hear the years of emotional damage, whisky and a thousand choruses of New Level, drifting from the speakers, gurgling like an abattoirs drain, gooey, sticky and it has to be said surprisingly emotive.

For the album’s entire running time, this continues, like vignettes from Charles Bukowski’s most hungover days, sitting on a bar stool counting the damage from last nights drug/drink bacchanal, mournful, tortured, self-obsessed with a side order of self-indulgence. There are also times here, where Anselmo’s voice is so low and guttural, it shifts the contents of your bowels and reduces him to a seismic rumble. Reviewing this is a tough beat though. I mean, from a purely musical perspective, this should not be within ten miles of Ave Noctum’s citadels. It is a musical therapy session, a vibe orientated meditation on grief, loss and depression. EN-MINOR been touted as ‘depression core’ and whilst that sounds like a lazy, unimaginative sobriquet, I am struggling to find a more fitting summation. It’s like a funeral dirge with Leonard Cohen, slow and ponderous, the tempo barely raises itself above walking pace and it’s certainly not what Anselmo’s legions of fans will be expecting. I am not sure what to make of it really? It’s a curiosity. Anselmo’s name alone will guaranteed this album press, publicity, and an audience but I wonder what many will make of it? In summary, this is an album that has splashes of excellence amongst the occasionally over indulgent more spoken word passages and on tracks as such ‘Warm Sharp Bath Sleep’ you could be listening to an outtake from Travis, Divine Comedy or Blur but with one of metal’s most prolific and fearsome vocalists pouring his heart out onto the floor. Do not listen to this album whilst operating heavy machinery, driving or doing anything that requires and eighth of your attention, it will lull you into a deep state of woken paralysis and render you incapable of performing even the most basic of bodily functions. ‘When The Cold Truth Has Worn Its Miserable Welcome Out’ is as enjoyable as it is unexpected and incongruous.

(6.5/10 Nick Griffiths)

https://www.facebook.com/enminorofficial

https://enminor.bandcamp.com/album/when-the-cold-truth-has-worn-its-miserable-welcome-out