Post-Black Flag, Henry Rollins certainly cultivated an image of drill sergeant-meets-motivational speaking guru, and no matter how tortured he tried to come across in any of his musical projects, I can’t shake that overall view of the guy. The other prevailing view of him is, he has an acerbic, funny side to him, but you know what? Other than some deadpan or in-character performances on the big and small screen, not much actual humor comes across in his act – from a sheer music/performance perspective, at least, and it’s especially hard to come across on The End of Silence. That’s just one of my issues with this disc, which, despite some of the talents pooled and players involved falls short in a lot of ways. Another, more pertinent issue, is the overall length of the experience – ten songs that run over 72 and a half minutes, and I would say and a good half to two thirds of the music turns out to be well technically-played filler, dragged out to oblivion because Rollins seems to be on a quest to lay bare the deepest recesses of his so-called tortured soul, one way or another.