The PANTERA.com News And Upcoming Events website (www-personal.umich.edu) has been updated with the following news:

Former PANTERA/current SUPERJOINT RITUAL frontman Philip Anselmo's back surgery — which was originally slated for November 8th and was then rescheduled for November 21st — "went well," according to his Superjoint bandmate Kevin Bond (guitar). Philip is expected to spend the next few months recuperating at his home in Lousiana while continuing work on several musical projects, some of which may see the light of day next year.

In an October 2005 interview with Revolver magazine, Anselmo spoke in detail about his back problem which has plagued him since the late 1990s.

"The lowest lumbar disc in my back was ruptured — shattered from being onstage since I was 14 years old, jumping off the stage, off Vinnie's drum set, going as crazy as possible," Anselmo said.

"So I asked my doctor, 'What can I do about this?' And he says, 'Well, you're going to have to wear a back brace,' which I've been wearing for 10 years now. . . Anybody who ever thought I had a beer gut or I was fat, I was holding my bones together. Then, after two, three more tours — another MRI. I got another damaged disc, and no cartilage between the bottom one and the next one, which meant bone-on-bone scraping and nerve damage, and so the painkillers got stronger, stronger, stronger just to get up on that goddamn stage and do what I do, man. I mean, I was born to do this and I've known it since I was 6 years old.

"Back in the Nineties, I went to see so many goddamn surgeons, and they all wanted to slice me open from the belly, take pieces of my hipbone out, take all my guts out, lay them on a table, and then fuse the discs from the front, use pieces of my hip to fill gaps in the bone and cartilage, then put all my guts back in, sew me up. I asked the doctor, 'Well, what's the recovery time for something like that?' And he's like, 'Oh, 10 months to a year, maybe a year and a half.' I'm like, 'No way. I gotta work, bro. We're going to Europe. We're doing Ozzfest. I cannot take a year off.' And then, on top of that, I had doctors ask me if I had been fitted for a wheelchair. That's how bad it was. And I never have let that out of the bag before. I said, 'A wheelchair?! I still jump off the damn drum riser, man.' And they're like, 'You're just going to screw yourself up.'

"And so eventually, I got put on the heaviest painkiller known to mankind — it's called methadone. Most people relate methadone to heroin, but I saved every bottle, every document — everything was for my back. And you know, it still hurt to be up there on stage, and when I woke up in the morning, it felt like an ice pick was shoved in my lower back, and the colder it got, the worse it got. And when you'd go to Europe in the middle of winter, it's like, man, I cannot do this without medicine.

"So I think people, especially journalists, took it upon themselves — and I really can't blame them, because I've never spilled these particular beans before. But I was slurring my words, I didn't have that glow anymore. It was killing my soul. You know, drugs, dope, everything you ever hear about them, it's true, man.

"So now, here we are in 2005 — medical science and neurology have come a very extreme distance. I have found an incredible doctor. He has put me through rigorous tests. They've given me my sixth MRI and nuclear testing where they make all your bones glow. [Laughs] And the worst of all was the last one. It's called the discogram — they allow no medication, no relaxants at all, and the whole purpose of the procedure is to duplicate the pain that you feel.

"So, at that point in time, I was slowly coming off this poison called methodone, which ruined my life, and another pill, which anybody who takes it is out of their mind. It's [a muscle relaxant] called Soma. That's what makes you sound like you're on the biggest amount of dope in the world — it makes you retarded, and I hated it. And so I want to apologize to all of my fans. I just wanted to play for you guys, man. And I think an apology is due for all my close friends and family, who had to endure what they didn't understand. And Dimebag, Vinnie Paul, Rex — they didn't understand the pain I was going through and the medicines and all of that. I apologize — so much. I'm not making excuses, but living with chronic pain makes you antisocial, depressed, not yourself. It changes your life, and it did mine, and now I want it back.

"And so, next month, on November [21]], I'm going under the knife, and I'm getting this motherfucker fixed finally, and I will walk through walls again, and I will punch through bricks, and I will rise again. Mark my goddamn words."