Slayer 66 2/3: The Jeff & Dave Years. A Metal Band Biography.

by Ferris, D. X.

  Nobody thought to invite Wallace — the Trilogy’s engineer — to the party.

  King, as all artists always are, was proud of his new product.

  “I love it,” he said in the accompanying press packet, the official liner notes the band provides for the press. “I really like God Hates Us All, and I think that’s the best record we’ve done in my opinion since Seasons in the Abyss, and I like this better than that one. I think it’s a more complete record, I think sonically it’s better: all the performances are awesome.”

  Araya underscored the lyrical themes, which remained unchanged, but updated. It skewed toward current events more, with the soldier song “Eyes of the Insane” and the crusade anthem “Jihad.”

  “With this record, as far as a theme: there is none,” the singer explained in the press kit. “That’s just our subject favorite subject matter. The common thread is death…. We all share death, and we share it at different times in different way, but it’s one thing we all have in common. We all die. It’s how we live that makes us different.”

  King dominates the ten-song, 38-minute album. Working alone, King wrote seven sets of lyrics and music for five songs. He went so far to note “all leads” in the credits for “Consfearacy” and the personal manifesto “Catalyst.”

  Hanneman receives sole credit for music on three songs, and splits lyrics with Araya on three.

  Like Divine Intervention, the album doesn’t have a single all-Hanneman track. Or a Hanneman-King collaboration.

  After reading about soldier suicides in Texas Monthly39-5, Araya wrote the lyrics for “Eyes of the Insane” himself, — and it would be a jackpot.

  [Click here for album's full songwriting credits in Appendix B]

  And Lombardo was back on the throne, for the record.

  “The one and only thing that he brings to what we were and what we are is his style,” Araya told KNAC.com at the time. “He helped create the foundation of what Slayer is, and there’s nobody like him. He’s a very freestyle drummer, not a very disciplined drummer. Paul was a very technical drummer…. Dave has a style of his own, and he comes up with some real crazy shit, he’s really into just playing. He’ll come in, you’ll show him a riff and he just starts playing. And it’s never the same, he always changes as it goes along. When we hear something that we think is cool, the trick is trying to get him to play it twice.”39-6

  Double-bass drum rolls, once Lombardo’s unique area of expertise, had now become commonplace in metal. Some drummers could fire off bursts for the entire length of a song. Far more players achieved the effect with computerized triggers that provided the technique without the attendant skill. But even the skilled percussionists’ playing had a mechanical quality that never quite replicated what Lombardo did or how he did. Lombardo later told Modern Drummer’s Ken Micallef it wasn’t entirely a physical skill; his contributions came from somewhere deeper.

  “Once I get into the beat, I go into this roll, and I don’t know where it comes from,” he told Micallef. “I’ll start it in an unusual place, and the band knows Dave is starting one of those weird rolls. I’ll go nuts, go everywhere on the kit. The band is praying I come down on the 1, and I always do. I get into this trancelike or hypnotic state. And I always wonder afterward, What did I just do? That was amazing. What is it? I’ll never know what it is…. It’s either out-of-body, or I just become unconscious behind the drums. But everything goes blank. And the drumming is different, it’s not what I play in a conscious state. I know it comes from one of those experiences.”39-7

  Going into the record, the band had stockpiled material for years, going through three rounds of demos and revising the songs along the way. Despite the tight collection of tunes, the band still ran out of time. Araya couldn’t complete a track called “The Final Six,” and the group wrapped the record with ten tracks.39-8

  Considering Lombardo’s long-awaited return following his 16-year absence on Slayer records, Christ Illusion has few standout musical moments. Hanneman’s vorpal solo is the customary knock-you-on-your-ass moment in the opening track (“Flesh Storm”).

  Abraham also mixes, capturing every auditory atom of an attack that’s relentless but monotonous. The record’s at its best when the entrained band rediscover dynamics, as in “Black Serenade.”

  During “Consfearacy,” you can almost hear King scrape the bottom of a metal barrel to come up with lyrics like: “I need to redefine / All the things I hate today / Politics that fail / From a president derailed…”

  On albums like Reign and Seasons, Slayer’s collective distrust of institutions inspired epic images of a world afire, drowning in gore, with gods at war. On “Cult,” King looks at religion and basically says, “Fuck it.”

  American released the album in August 8. By then, downloading had done its damage to the music business: sales were harder to come by, but chart positions weren’t. The band received its highest chart ranking ever: 5 on the Billboard album chart. Then disc helped Slayer achieve success on a level that, until it happened, was unimaginable.

  Christ Illusion received positive notices and was generally received as the band’s best effort since 1990’s Seasons in the Abyss.

  Writing for L.A. hard rock fortress KNAC, Peter Atkinson noted: “Basically, the bottom line here is this: If the mere fact that Christ Illusion is a ‘new Slayer album’ will be enough to scratch your Slayer itch, then you should be more than satisfied — and I’ve got to admit, at times, it works for me, too. But for anyone expecting — or at least hoping — for anything more monumental than just another ‘damn Slayer record,’ hate to bust your bubble. Christ Illusion is full of sound and fury that ultimately doesn’t signify a whole hell of a lot.”39-9

  As of this writing, on the mainstream-leaning review aggregator Metacritic, Christ Illusion has an average 7.9 rating on a 10 scale — the same average Blabbermouth fans gave its predecessor39-10.

  Metal veteran Don Kaye, now writing for Blabbermouth, rated Christ 7.5 on a scale of 1 to 10. And readers concurred, cumulatively scoring it a 7.7 (as of July 2013).

  “Everyone's known it for years,” wrote Kaye. “While Slayer is widely considered one of the greatest live metal acts of all time, the band has not made an equally great album since 1990's Seasons in the Abyss.”39-11

  Not that it was a bad album.

  “Not since the maniac thrash of 1986's genre-eclipsing Reign in Blood have these SoCal wastrels managed music that sounds so frighteningly out of control and yet wholly, idealistically pure of intent,” wrote Austin Chronicle’s Marc Savlov39-12.

  When push came to shove, Slayer got the thumbs-up in critical circles.

  February 11, 2007, the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences awarded Slayer the Best Metal Performance Grammy Award for “Eyes of the Insane,” lyrics by Araya, music by Hanneman.

  The song had a timely topic. Again, Slayer were ahead of their time, in this instance penning a song about new kind of epidemic, one that would be hotly discussed in the following years.

  "A lot of soldiers do that — they commit suicide before they make it home," explained Araya in a press release. "It's... an issue that the military deals with by not talking about it."39-13

  And that night, Rubin claimed part of four more Grammys. Before long, the bearded figure was hired as the co-head of Columbia Records, the corporate parent that had once refused to release Reign in Blood. (His title and duties were never formally defined.)

  By that point, Slayer was simply legend. In coming years, it would become routine to find concert goers shouting “SLAYER!” at other band’s shows, sometimes in opposing groups, bleating the name back and forth. The band’s name acquired a rock infamy on par with “FREEBIRD!” At 2010’s Grammy Awards, a member of the crowd shouted “SLAYER!” during Janet Jackson’s tribute to her late brother39-14.

  That year, Slayer even got its own holiday. American superfans Dag Hansen and Jim Tate organized the first National Day of Slayer on June 6, 2006. The title sp
oofed the National Day of Prayer, an annual American day of observance recognized by the United States Congress, in which citizens are encouraged "to turn to God in prayer and meditation." As an alternative to prayer, Hansen and Tate urged all Slayer fans to celebrate by blasting the band’s music loud.

  “The National Day of Slayer is in effect a national day for all metal,” explains Hansen. “Slayer is the quintessential metal band, and their enduring popularity and legitimacy made them an ideal figurehead. The creation of this holiday was necessary because Hessians continue to be ignored as a cultural movement, despite their global presence and developed collective identity. We needed something to make the rest of the world realize that metal is more than just another form of entertainment.”

  The next year, the event changed its name to the International Day of Slayer to include Slaytanic soldiers worldwide.

  Slayer had planned to launch the tour on that day — Araya’s 45th birthday. But his body had other plans. In early May, the singer underwent gallbladder surgery. A handful of shows were postponed to later in the summer — as was the album itself.

  When Slayer did hit the road, they hadn’t lost a step. The next year, Spin readers voted Slayer Best Live Band.

  Putting on that caliber of a show wasn’t as easy as it used to be. By then, King — now 42 — was also feeling the wear and tear of years on the road. Even for younger players, tearing through a vigorous set of speed metal can leave a musician feeling liked he spent the night playing tackle football. To keep his neck loose, King now stretched half an hour before shows. Then he followed by playing for another half hour. Then he would stretch his back and neck again. Then he kept warm by playing until it was time to hit the stage. To King, full physicality was an important part of the live Slayer experience:

  “That’s what people expect of us,” King said. “That’s what we expect of ourselves…. When Dave filled in for Lars [Ulrich of Metallica in 2004], the thing that intrigued me most — I’m watching them play ‘Whiplash,’ and the only one who’s got any fire on stage is [new guy and younger bassist] Trujillo. James didn’t move his neck, Kirk didn’t move his neck at all. ‘Aren’t you guys Metallica?’”

  By then, writers were starting to ask how long Slayer could continue playing so fast and furiously. Speaking to Tim Henderson of Brave Words & Bloody Knuckles, Araya had half an answer:

  “I don't live by age,” Araya said. “I live by how I feel, and I feel young and great…. Honestly, it has nothing to do with anything aside from physical ability…. It's the physical ability to be able to play that fast, to be able to do what we do. And it comes to a point where if you can't play 100% — especially with what we do — it's not going to sound that great."39-14

  On that tour, Slayer’s business matched its props. 2006 had been a decent year for Slayer business, with around 70 concerts between June and November. The next year, between January and September 2007, they matched it.

  A summer 2007 tour with Marilyn Manson saw the band back in proper-sized arenas and sheds. Technically, the bands co-headlined, though Slayer took the stage first and let Manson play in their dust. It was an unusual pairing. But in a tough economic climate, the digital era had merged with a recession. So groups were forced to think of creative ideas to attract concertgoers.

  King was still famous for slaughtering metal's sacred cows, verbally laying headbanger heroes to whaleshit. So surely he would have some hilariously venomous barbs for Manson, the fur-stole-wearing albino vampire who was as responsible for the Hot Topic aesthetic as anybody else in the business. But King surprised everyone by saying Manson was pretty cool. Then he zinged him.

  "People ask me how I think this tour is going to go, and it depends what Manson brings to the party," King told me, promoting the tour. "He could play a set from Holy Wood on, or mix it up and hit the whole audience. We [just saw the band] at a festival. Four songs in, they played the song I wanted to see, 'Irresponsible Hate Anthem.' And I'm like, 'Cool, I can leave now.'"39-16

  The bill brought out two distinct crowds, but their money was all green.

  Click here to Google search “Slayer photos 2006”

  Chapter 40:

  Manson Tour 1: Louder Than Hell

  Slayer-Manson show review I filed following the Cleveland show at Time Warner Cable Amphitheater at Tower City, Summer 200740-1:

  Last night’s Slayer/Marilyn Manson show killed. Of course. Or, rather, Slayer killed.

  Like half the audience, your duly delegated representative didn’t stick around for Manson. If you’ve seen Slayer before, they were as good as they always were – in fact, they were more revved up than usual.

  Maybe it was the lingering energy from the orange full moon two nights before. Or maybe it’s because they are, in fact, fueled by Satan. Their massive video projection backdrop – flying pentagrams and pictures of Christ in various stages of decomposition and torture – suggested the latter.

  Intro: “Metalstorm” (on tape)

  1. “Flesh Storm”

  2. “War Ensemble”

  3. “Chemical Warfare”

  4. “Ghosts of War”

  5. “Jihad”

  6. “Cult”

  7. “Disciple”

  8. “Bitter Peace

  9. “Payback”

  10. “South of Heaven”

  11. “Raining Blood”

  12. “Hell Awaits”

  13. “Mandatory Suicide”

  14. “Angel of Death”

  Following are some scenes from the massacre.

  4:15 p.m. It’s hot as hell. And bright as hell, too. Nice day for a concert. The opening act, Bleeding Through, isn’t scheduled to start until 7. Slayer fans don’t fuck around; they’re lined up already. Think Seal’s “Crazy” can’t be deafening? It can when it’s being playing at full blast over the Tower City Amphitheater’s sound system, and there aren’t 4,000 hot bodies to soak up the sound. At the right volume, adult-contemporary hits from the ’90s can kill you. Or make you wish you were dead. Seal, not Slayer, is the devil’s music.

  Quick description of fans: Guys in camo hats. Girls with pink hair and big, black boots that ride all the way up their calves. Guys in dreads. Note to all balding guys with dreadlocks: Let it go, man. Let it go.

  4:30 p.m. Sweat’s washing black and white makeup off the Manson kids. More notes on the crowd: Many girls in black corset-dresses, pink fishnets, and high-heeled boots. Girls at heavy metal shows did not used to look this good. You’ve come a long way, baby.

  4:38 p.m.: The Manson family outnumber the Slayer cult, but one dude in an original 1986 Reign in Blood tour shirt can easily take out ten Hot Topic shoppers. If some prison-riot shit goes down between the two disparate fan bases, it won’t last long.

  4:44 p.m.: Apropos of nothing, some guy yells the first “FUCKIN’ SLAYER!” of the night. Many more will follow.

  5:20 p.m.: Spotted: The first shirtless, puking, apparently underage kid with a Slipknot tattoo across the base of his neck. Many more will follow.

  8:05 p.m.: As promised, Slayer take the stage like an occupying force, to the canned sound of one of the songs from their debut, 1983’s Show No Mercy. Don’t think we’re poseurs for forgetting which one it was; the concert melted the brains of at least half the people there. The band launch into “Flesh Storm,” one of many songs about war, atrophy, black magic, and assorted forms of bloodshed. The 4/5-full tent is so packed there’s no room for much of a pit, just a massive crush of bodies pressed against bodies. Lift up your feet, and you won’t fall. Just like every Slayer show for the last 20 years.

  8:15 or thereabouts: Gray smoke wafting around them like battlefield fumes, Slayer launch into a double-shot of war songs: “Chemical Warfare” and its sort-of sequel, “Ghosts of War.” Lucifer himself would be intimidated, or at least impressed. Tattooed from his fingertips to his skull, bald guitarist Kerry King is raging, pulling his guitar back and forth across his body like a warlock furiously trying to kick-start his broom.


  8:25 p.m.: Appropriately, it is goddamned loud. A coterie of Manson fans are hiding on the far side of the vibrating concessions building, where the ear-pulverizing volume is slightly less toxic. Back on the road between Tower City Mall and the amphitheater, a line of thrifty fans are watching from the chain-link fence. Their cochleas are probably bleeding, too. You can see the right outfield walls of Jacob’s Field from the amphitheater; if the stadium collapses any time in the next year, Slayer’s sound man may be sued, and the plaintiffs will have a solid case. I shit you not: people two hours East in Erie can hear “Payback.”

  8:35 p.m.: In a steady haze of red smoke, Slayer are playing so loud, they’re actually making the sun go down. The sound is echoing off surrounding brick buildings, killing trees. On the immediately adjacent Cuyahoga River, topless multi-tier boats and rowing crews float by. Aside from the whole soundtrack-to-total-and-complete-devastation thing, it’s quite a cosmopolitan scene. Down the block, the encroaching metal is probably making some poor saps at the Sheryl Crow concert pee themselves. This point bears repeating: The Mighty Thor himself could not handle two hours of this volume; good thing Slayer’s scheduled for a 70-minute set.