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

by Ferris, D. X.

  Feedback and whammy-bar noise bridged the brief moments between songs in the band’s adrenalized, full-sized, hour-long set, which comprised speedy versions of:

  1. “Hell Awaits”

  2. “Aggressive Perfector”

  3. “Captor of Sin”

  4. “The Final Command”

  5. “The Antichrist”

  6.” Necrophiliac”

  7. “Fight Till Death”

  8. “Black Magic”

  9. “Die by the Sword”

  10. “Praise of Death”

  11. “At Dawn They Sleep”

  12. Drum solo

  13. “Show No Mercy”

  14. “Evil Has No Boundaries”

  15. “Chemical Warfare”

  “It was, by far, the biggest show they’d ever played,” says Goodman. “At least double, probably triple the largest show they’d ever done. And even though they went over well with Venom, they went over as well on this weird continent they’d never been to.”

  Backstage at that show, photographer Charly Rinne snapped the picture that would grace the rear cover of Reign in Blood14-7. The band are ecstatic, except for Lombardo, who looks tired. Pawing a six-pack of tiny beer cans, they look like manic giants in the photo, making metal faces, eyes narrow, teeth bared, wild hair sticking out in every direction. It was a good day.

  It was a good tour. Slayer headlined over local hellions. The crowds weren’t always big, but they were all enthusiastic. For a month, the band ravaged venues in the Netherlands and Germany, wrecking Katwijk’s Scum Club and Munich’s Alabamahalle. The clubs generally held a few hundred people. They played seven shows in the Netherlands. Destruction opened nine German shows. Artillery opened a Danish show.

  On the rare nights that the venues weren’t packed, they were close, and the crowds were completely rapt in the show. Before Europe had converted to the standard Euro, the band collected the equivalent of $250 or $500 a night in Deutschmarks and guilders.

  Before Slayer’s last show for the European continent, the band met with Roadrunner boss Wessels, who had bankrolled the trek.

  The band found Amsterdam’s Paradiso, a former church converted to a rock hall. The crew unloaded. Inside, Araya, Goodman and Wessels pulled up seats to a table. Wessels was ready to talk business. That made one of them.

  Wessels said, “I want to go over the numbers with you.”

  Araya and Goodman looked at the label head and said, in tandem, “What numbers?”

  Wessels asked for the band’s receipts from their month on the road.

  They didn’t have any.

  The band had gone spent a month in Europe without accumulating a single record of their business expenses — gas, food, lodging. Nothing.

  Wessels politely shrugged it off. Good notices and a growing pile of good reviews had made it a worthwhile investment.

  Slayer returned to London for a final show before departing for America, at the Marquee, a storied club on Wardour Street in Soho. Before the concert, the band drew up a fantasy guest list, filling it with the name of every UK rock writer they could think of from the magazines they read: names like Kerrang!’s Malcolm Dome, the journalist credited with coining “thrash” as an adjective. They had all RSVP’d, and they all showed up. Slayer hit the stage and didn’t disappoint them.

  The next day, the band returned the splitter and rented gear. Exactly a month after they first set foot in Europe, a triumphant Slayer flew home from Heathrow.

  Goodman had left with a couple hundred dollars in his pocket. He returned to America $30 poorer. It was money well spent. Says Goodman, “The best $30 ever.”

  Back in America, Slayer received the sole negative review of the tour: One of the booking agents sent Slagel a Telex complaining about the “useless” tour manager and “childish” band.

  Goodman laughs at it and doesn’t dispute the charges.

  “We were kids,” he says. “We didn’t have a fuckin’ clue.”

  They were developing a clue. Slayer began the tour as disappointed, displaced, skinny longhairs. Over the next month, they grew. A swagger developed.

  “They comfortably started to wear the crown,” says Goodman. “They knew what they had, and they appreciated it. They didn’t turn into dickheads.”

  Slayer were entering their prime. Their records had all been instant landmarks. But still: Before Reign in Blood, Slayer still had the dubious distinction of being a “…but you really have to see them live” band. Even fans agreed.

  Writer Gene Khoury reviewed the Studio 54 for show for Kick Ass magazine, noting, “Slayer live is the real Slayer. The vinyl is great, but they are a live band that forces you to thrash by their incredible speed and power…. I’d seen Slayer about five times already, and I can honestly say they played at their best tonight.”14-8

  Dave Constable of Britain’s Metal Forces took note of Slayer’s untouchable corner of the shifting hard-rock world. His feature closes with the note, “Slayer will gain in popularity… but they’re not going to be superstars, and somehow I think they know that. But as entertainers, they’ve got little competition – the number-one cult band ever?”14-9

  In August, the band returned to the road in America. The band played a two-night hometown show at the Country Club, followed by two September nights in New York City, with two more to come in later in the season. That year, the band played 50 shows, only a quarter of them in California.

  Other Metal Blade bands were bigger in L.A. Some toured nationally. But even bands like Fates Warning, who were popular overseas, never left America.

  Slayer’s Eurotrip permanently put them far ahead of the pack.

  “That tour was crucial to the worldwide success,” says Howell. “They were a band that was in such demand. Slayer being in Europe was a big, big deal.”

  By every possible metric, thrash was growing bigger and bigger. Elektra records signed Metallica. By indie standards, Hell Awaits was selling like hell, having moved around 10,000 copies at around $8 a unit. (Reports of 100,000 were either a typo, exaggeration, or wishful thinking.) The band’s grassroots label could no longer contain its growth. Slayer was ready for something bigger. As 1985 wound down, something had to give. One November night in New York City, something did.

  Chapter 15:

  Reign in Blood

  Reign in Blood, Long Story Short, as Related in Further Detail in the Book 33 1/3: Slayer’s Reign in Blood, With Some Fresh Perspective:

  In 1985, Metallica were the Kings of Thrash. The no. 2 spot was up for grabs. Slayer would grab that position — and maybe the All-Time Number 1 slot, with the help of a nascent music mogul most unlikely.

  November 15 and 16, 1985, Slayer played a two-night stand at L’Amour — a club known to the locals as “Lamorz,” accurately hyped in commercials as “the rock capital of Brooklyn.” In the audience was Rubin, the country’s hottest rap producer and co-CEO of the hottest hip-hop label on the planet.

  In coming decades, Rubin would produce Johnny Cash, the Dixie Chicks, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Joan Jett, Tom Petty, AC/DC, System of a Down, Audioslave, Rahat Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Rage Against the Machine, Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros, Lil John, Weezer, Neil Diamond, Justin Timberlake, Jay-Z, U2, Link Park, Kid Rock, Eminem, and Adele. In 2007, he became the head of Columbia Records, one of the few remaining major record labels. (True to Rubin’s unconventional approach, he refused to take a formal title with the corporation. Now he made music and decisions.)

  But in 1985, the future music-industry powerhouse was an eccentric rookie. White and Jewish, he grew up in a well-to-do family on Long Island’s Lido Beach. He had recently graduated from New York University. While in college, he founded Def Jam in his dorm room, Room 712 of NYU's Weinstein Residence Hall on University Place, a monolithic row of apartments15-1.

  Rubin’s raw-dog production on T La Rock’s seminal hip-hop single “It’s Yours” caught the ear of Russell Simmons, a rising young promoter who was surprised to learn the aud
io ace was white.

  In the 1980s, popular culture was racially polarized. Michael Jackson and Prince helped bring black music to the top 40 audience. But Def Jam and hip-hop did more than its share to reintegrate black and white culture on the street level. Rubin lived by the maxim often attributed to Duke Ellington: “There are two types of music: good and bad.” Rubin liked the good stuff.

  Rubin loved rough-and-tumble culture, including punk, pro wrestling, and metal. He came of age playing guitar and listening to Devo. And the more extreme music became, the more he liked it.

  In September 1985, Rubin had finished work on LL Cool J’s Radio, and the Beasties Boys’ License to Ill was in progress. Rubin and some friends hit the town to catch a few acts at the CMJ New Music Seminar. A show at the Ritz featured Bad Brains, Megadeth, and another metal group that really put the zap on Rubin’s head.

  “Slayer headlined,” Rubin recalled. “Megadeth played before them, and either Exodus or Anthrax before that. I don’t recall much of anything that night before Slayer. They totally annihilated. Clearly, no other band mattered that night at the Ritz. I can’t imagine any other band in the world mattering that night.”

  In November, Slayer returned to New York, still supporting Hell Awaits, for a two-night stand at L’Amour. That first show was no fluke. Rubin had to have them. He made his way backstage, met the band, and asked what it would take to do a deal.

  The hottest ticket in town: stub from the second Slayer show Rick Rubin witnessed, the night he met the band.

  And nobody said no to Rick Rubin. If they did, it didn’t stick. His salesman father had taught him a thing or two about dealing with people.

  Rubin followed Slayer’s bloody trail to California. He found one of the best metal albums in the history the genre, ready to be polished up and released into the world.

  Slayer had written all the music for the record before Rubin arrived. And a good chunk of the lyrics.

  Beset by nightmares and intrigued by the Third Reich, Hanneman began writing Reign in Blood in late ’85. During the day, he would read about the darker aspects of World War II. At night, he and Araya would cruise around in the singer’s Camaro, driving from Downey to Long Beach and back, drinking beers and catching a buzz.

  More songs started to emerge. King stayed home, took care of his growing snake collection, watched horror movies, and started writing riffs.

  Before long, Slayer had a 33-minute demo tape of Reign in Blood.

  They played the demo for Slagel, who was ready to get the band in the studio. Metal Blade’s Lizzie Borden sold well, but Slayer moved as many records as almost the rest of the roster. The label didn’t have all its hopes pinned to Slayer. But it had a lot of them.

  Then, before Slagel could get Reign on tape, Rubin landed in California, on a mission to find the group. No matter how good he was, Slagel couldn’t match Def Jam’s distribution or management connections. After some legal wrangling, Rubin arranged for the band to be sprung from their Metal Blade contract.

  Slagel remained friends with King and Hanneman. He didn’t take it too personally. It did hurt, though.

  “When the band signed to Def Jam, he felt not-too-pleased at that time,” recalled Howell. “They were a band on the upswing. They were one of the most popular bands on Metal Blade at the time. But they were offered a bigger, better deal…. That was a bit rough for a time… I don’t think it was dramatic enough to use the word ‘betrayal,’ but the plan was to follow up Hell Awaits on Metal Blade.”

  Slayer traded their past accomplishments for their future freedom. The band were free to move on with Def Jam, all connections to Slagel severed. Metal Blade retained the rights to the records it had issued so far. Combined, Slayer’s first four releases eventually sold over a million units.

  “Reign in Blood is the top-of-the-line, top-shelf liquor of thrash,” says Howell. “But that catalog will always turn a profit.”

  As it played out, Slayer wound up on Def Jam, a label that was home to L.L. Cool J, the Beastie Boys and, eventually, Public Enemy, 3rd Bass and Slick Rick.

  “They were nice kids,” Simmons said. “They looked fun. I didn’t know. I wasn’t even [interested] because they didn’t rap. Me and all the hip-hop kids that were part of my group, they looked up and said, ‘Wow, I don’t know what the fuck this is. This is Rick Rubin’s shit.’”15-2

  In the engrossing coffee-table book Def Jam Recordings: The First 25 Years of the Last Great Record Label, a vibrant black-and-white photo by Josh Cheuse captures the 1986 Def Jam all-stars, an incongruous roster for the ages: The longhaired members of Slayer, bright-eyed and smiling, stand tall next to the disheveled Beastie Boys, the be-Kangol’d members of Run-DMC, and George Drakoulias, the future producer of the Black Crowes and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers.

  Notes the caption: “Rick [Rubin] is fond of this picture because ‘You can really see the cultures clashing’ — a hallmark of Def Jam — although it can also be seen as a portrait of pleasantly surprising ‘Our Gang’ compatibility.”15-3

  Rubin formed a small, ethnically diverse coterie with two other staffers and launched an informal rock department at Def Jam.

  A mere six months after Slayer met Rubin, Reign was done. The band recorded the album in Los Angeles studio Hit City West. Hit City was co-founded by Andy Wallace, who was nearly 40 when he recorded Reign. A musician turned studio pro, he had engineered the Doors’ An American Prayer and remixed Madonna. Later, he would win a Grammy for his engineering work on Sheryl Crow’s The Globe Sessions and help squeeze the best out bands from the Foo Fighters to Faith Hill. (And he did what he could for Guns ‘N Roses’ Chinese Democracy.)

  Rubin, for all his underground cred, had golden ears and a pop sensibility to match. The charismatic young producer also had considerable people skills and an infectious enthusiasm.

  “Besides the fact that I look up to [Rubin’s] approach with how he works with musicians and songwriters, he’s got a great attitude in the studio,” said Lombardo. “He’ll bring out the best in you. He’ll mention, ‘This is a good area to elaborate on.’ He’ll tell me, ‘Lead into this next part with a drum roll.’ He’ll give me different ideas. He fertilizes the talent. He really brings it out.”

  Rubin lived life to the fullest, but he was never into drinking or drugs. He found a kindred spirit in the clean-living King. And, following their example, the band recorded the speed-metal classic in a clean studio, without illegal rocket fuel to aid their breakneck performances.

  The band recorded and mixed Reign between January and March 1986. With Rubin overseeing the sessions and Wallace recording them, the frantic young Slayer banged out the ten Reign songs faster and tighter than ever, shaving five minutes off their run time, for a ten-song instant classic that barely lasted 28 full minutes. The album was so short, the cassette version featured the entire program on both sides. (They also recorded two extra tracks: a remix of “Criminally Insane” and a re-recording of “Aggressive Perfector,” the first song they had ever recorded.)

  Contrary to metal fans’ fears, the rap label’s artistic predisposition didn’t compromise Slayer’s sound.

  “If you hear the difference between Hell Awaits and Reign in Blood, Reign in Blood is very fluid and concise,” said Lombardo. “I think [Rubin] maybe made us a little bit more accessible to some people, to where maybe those people wouldn’t have given it a chance otherwise.”

  But members of the Slaytanic Wehrmacht who expected a slicker retread of Hell Awaits were disappointed.

  On Reign in Blood, key elements from the early Slayer sound disappeared forever. The slow mathematical chug is gone. Araya’s high-pitched, hyperspeed, hard-to-decipher vocals disappear. From its first beat, the album is relentlessly percussive. Reign opens with one of metal’s great screams. Minutes later, it set new standards for metal drumming. And it tops Hell Awaits’ black/death metal morass by turning to reality for gut-wrenching subject matter.

  “There’s some cool stuff on [Reign]
,” said King. “It started from Show No Mercy, where you’ve got some 17-year-old kid trying to figure out how to write lyrics that are meaningful to somebody — to Reign in Blood, I think we matured 20 years.”

  Reign begins with a body count of 400,000 and moves on to the entire human race. Opening cut “Angel of Death” describes the real-world horrors of Nazi concentration camp Auschwitz. Rubin, Jewish, found it easy to look past the subject matter. Def Jam was distributed by CBS. CBS President Walter Yetnikoff, also Jewish, not only found the song offensive, but believed his shareholders would, too. CBS refused to release the album.

  But released it was, via Geffen, which was affiliated with Warner Bros. And the Wehrmacht were treated to a horror anthology: songs about serial killers. A witch trial. Black magic. An obliterating disease. Vengeance from the grave. A power struggle for the underworld. And a rain of blood.

  The album’s first and final songs are Slayer’s most frequently played tunes. In concert, the band has performed them both well over 1,300 times15-4. And while “Angel of Death” is seminal, “Raining Blood” is inimitable.