“I wasn’t ready for it,” Lombardo told Metal Maniacs later. “It’s like a runner. A runner runs around the block. Runs once, and he’s tired. And then, then next day, he goes out, runs it again… Next thing you know, he runs around the block ten times and doesn’t feel anything.”20-8
Metal Forces’ John Ricard reviewed Slayer’s first show with Dave back in the fold, the first night of another two-night stand at Brooklyn’s L’Amour March 1020-8.
The show began with the thunderous intro to “Raining Blood,” Lombardo pounding his kit like he was knocking on the gates of hell. After a looping tease, the guitars kicked in.
“The crowd explodes,” wrote Ricard. “And by the time they realize that Slayer have begun this concert with ‘Raining Blood,’ the song is already over. ‘Angel of Death’ has just started, and Tom Araya is now singing about the upcoming deaths of 400,000 more victims. Obviously, Slayer does not like to waste any time at all.”
Ricard noted that Metallica, supporting their third album, had already slowed down: They had moved the blistering thrash masterpiece “Fight Fire With Fire” from the opening song to the middle of the show.
“Even Metallica waits until half the set is over before they start singing about ‘blowing the universe into nothingness,’ but not Slayer – they killed 400,000 people in the second song, they demanded that everybody ‘Die by the Sword’ in the third song, and shortly after that, they were in ‘Praise of Death’ themselves.”
The tour continued, and the members didn’t kill each other. Nobody even stabbed anybody. The tension between Lombardo and the other members wasn’t entirely gone, but everybody took the proverbial chill pill. They didn’t push it: After a European tour wrapped in May, the band only played a few scattered shows over the rest of the 1987.
The drama impulse may not be present every facet of the drummer’s personality, but those close to the situation say Buzz Osborne’s description of Lombardo is accurate.
“[Reign in Blood] was the record,” says Sulmers. “There’s very few times when you get to be involved with the record. And to threaten to walk away and then eventually walk away… I don’t know what [former Kiss guitarist] Ace Frehley was dealing with, but Dave Lombardo was not dealing with what Ace Frehley was dealing with. Kerry and Jeff are nothing close to Gene Simmons [Kiss’ notoriously difficult shot-caller]. So who knows? I don’t think Dave was happy being the drummer. You look back and think, ‘You caused a lot of drama for nothing. You ended up in the band you didn’t want to be in.’”
But it was a hell of a band to be in. Lombardo shook off the cobwebs, and the band spent spring 1987 on the road, proving that Reign in Blood truly was the record — an estimation that would only increase with time.
Click here to Google search “Slayer photos 1987”
UNDERWRITER
Chapter 21:
On and On, South of Heaven
For your consideration: The Henderson Rule. What marks a truly great band? Here’s an idea from the mind of music fan Jon Henderson — you’ve never heard of him; he’s a friend with impeccable taste: A truly great band is one that has recorded three classic albums (at least). Slayer has three, if not more. I recognize the first five full albums, plus Undisputed Attitude, Live Undead, and Haunting the Chapel as masterworks. But far more fans agree on the Def/Jam/American trilogy.
Reign in Blood arrived as a certified masterpiece. Then Slayer had at least two more classics in them. And the band’s ensuing history is a rock and roll run like no other.
After Reign, Slayer didn’t stop or slow down for two and a half years. Released in 1988, South of Heaven was the band’s second major-label metal masterpiece.
South of Heaven reunited the same team from Reign. The band recorded the album in Los Angeles, returning to Hit City in late 1987 and wrapping in early ’88.
Production is credited to “Rick Rubin and Slayer,” and Rubin is also credited as executive producer.
As with Reign, the album was mixed at New York City’s New Fresh Studios – better known as Soundtrack. Rubin liked to hide the names of the studios that helped his acts record distinctive sounds. The famous Chung King House of Metal was named Secret Society when he started using it.
Wallace mixed South too, with help from a strong support staff of Bill Freesh (an L.A. veteran whose credits include also-ran hard-rock band Angel, featuring Greg Giuffria), Peter Kelsey (an assistant engineer on Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road), and Steve Ett — an engineer essential to the early Def Jam sound, who was on his way out at the label.
So was Rubin. No longer rapt by hip-hop, he produced the Cult’s divisive third album, Electric, in 1987. By the end of this Slayer summer, Rubin would amicably split with Def Jam and form his own Def American label. The mostly-rock stronghold later became simply American. Def American’s first release was the first Danzig record in August ’88.
“By 1988, Def Jam was suffering from a personality disorder,” noted publicist Bill Stephney in Def Jam Recordings: The First 25 Years of the Last Great Record Label. “Was it the label of the Beastie Boys, Slick Rick, LL Cool J, Public Enemy, Slayer, and Andrew Dice Clay — as cool, new music-y, and hip-hop as it could be? Or was it the label that also boasted Alyson Williams, who should be right up there with Gwen Guthrie and Anita Baker? You could think of them as two separate entities: Def Records and Jam Records. Def was Rick’s. Jam was Russell’s. Def was hip-hop. Jam was R&B. Except that Def was the part that paid all the bills.”
Indeed, Rubin had produced the Beastie Boys’ Licensed to Ill, the first rap album to top the Billboard album chart, which had sold around 5 million copies and, at last count, had moved four million more. But money wasn’t what motivated the producer.
(Once Rubin departed, Russell Simmons stopped trying to break soul acts. The label doubled down on hip-hop, refocused, and became a culture-defining rap juggernaut.)
Larry Carroll — the political artist who created the iconic, museum-worthy collage that was the Reign in Blood cover, as fully detailed in the 33 1/3 book — returned for the South artwork. Howard Schwartzberg — whose scant credits include jazz and R&B work with Peter Herborn and Cold Sweat — executed the graphic design work. Both were co-credited for “illustration.” A leftover — but excellent — Glen E. Friedman photo from the Reign tour program shoot adorned the rear cover, capturing the band making serious faces, a striking contrast to manic party dudes on the back of the previous LP.
For now, Def American continued its relationship with the Warner-affiliated Geffen as a corporate partner for distribution and promotion.
After the Reign tour, King married and moved to Arizona. As South gestated, he played a smaller role than he had with Reign. King contributed lyrics to four songs, three of them co-writes with Araya. And he wrote one song alone (“Ghosts of War,” a sequel of sorts to “Chemical Warfare”). He split music credits with Hanneman for three songs, and solo-wrote music for just one. King didn’t write complete lyrics and music for one song on the record.
Araya, the band’s mouthpiece, finally emerged as a creative force in the band. On Reign in Blood, the guitarists had dictated the rhythms for Araya’s vocals. On South, he began to truly hold notes and sing — not just grunt, bark, and scream. And on this record, the singer had a voice regarding what he sang.
Araya hadn’t written much at this point, with credits in just two songs on Hell Awaits, both of them collaborations with both King and Hanneman. On South, he contributed lyrics to six songs, writing three by himself. “Mandatory Suicide” swelled the band’s growing catalog of war songs. “Silent Scream” was a gory examination of teen pregnancy named after a famous anti-abortion film from 1984. It’s the rare window into Araya’s complex political leanings.
As with King, Hanneman wrote fewer lyrics than he did for Reign: His solo lyrics are “Behind the Crooked Cross” and “Spill the Blood.” But he wrote music for every original song, penning six solo tunes and co-writing three with King. (At the time, all s
ongs were copyrighted to Def Jam Music.)
Slayer didn’t have much material, but they headed into the studio anyway. To fill out the record, threw in a largely faithful cover of Judas Priest’s “Dissident Aggressor.” The band had been toying with the idea of recording it since Hell Awaits. They started recording it during the Reign sessions, but the song stalled 21-1.
Stuck at nine songs, the band cooked up “Cleanse the Soul.” Working under a ticking clock, King and Araya threw together some repetitive lyrics. The tightly wound riff is one of the record’s few nods to Hanneman’s hardcore roots. It’s the kind of tune that could stir up a circle pit if they played it live. Without anything better on deck, the tale of macabre murder made the cut, but it became one of the King and Hanneman’s least favorite songs.
[Click here for album's full songwriting credits in Appendix B]
As detailed in Decibel’s making-of story, on the surface, “Spill the Blood” seems like just another gory song about black magic. In fact, it’s a sophisticated statement about the overlap between art and commerce, between labor and the bosses who profit from it: “You spill the blood / I have your soul.” It’s also the closest the band ever came to using a clean acoustic intro, a cliché that spread through metal like plague over the 1980s. But Slayer never incorporated one as a distinct prelude, as many other bands did.
Released on Def Jam July 5, 1988, South of Heaven peaked at no. 57 on the Billboard album chart. It was certified gold November 20, 1992. Slayer have no certified-platinum albums, which manager Rick Sales attributes to their frequent changes of distributors. The dubious platinum and gold certifications designate the number of copies shipped, not sold. In January 1995, Rubin threw a party to commemorate the band’s four Def Jam releases selling a combined 4 million copies21-2.
Reviews were overwhelmingly positive, but not uniformly so.
Rolling Stone noticed the metal stars this time. In a gleefully cranky review, the magazine’s Kim Neely gave South of Heaven one star of a possible five. Neely called the album “…a cacophony of genuinely offensive satanic drivel that will probably win over a couple of thrash fans who’ve already lost their hearing anyway.”21-3
The review paired it with Stryper’s In God We Trust in a God-versus-Satan metal duel. Stryper won, with a two-star review that unfavorably compared the Christian metal band to Dylan — in a very timely reference. (In 2006, the bands were nearly on the same bill at Mexico’s Monterrey Metal Fest. According to Stryper frontman Michael Sweet, his band took the show to reach Slayer fans, and Slayer canceled their appearance when they learned Stryper was on the bill.)
Overseas, as always, Metal Forces understood what was going on. The magazine scored it an eight on a scale of ten. “If anything, they’ve gotten even heavier in the two years since Reign In Blood,” noted Borivoj Krgin, a future Metal Maniacs editor who would become the band’s major chronicler in its golden age21-4.
In 2013, South of Heaven entered the Decibel magazine Hall of Fame, making Slayer the first group to have a second album enshrined. Looking back, Chris Dick wrote, “…the violent bashing and wanton destruction of yesteryear had advanced into cunning hooks, lurid thematics and wicked songcraft…. Eerily perfect, South of Heaven was Slayer sophisticated, yet remarkably visceral.”21-5
With ten songs, the album runs a hair under 37 minutes — 28% longer than Reign, which also had ten tunes.
Speaking to Decibel for that commemorative oral history of the record, Hanneman recalled, “I just remember after putting out Reign in Blood, we didn’t want to try to beat that album. It’d be kind of ridiculous, ‘cause that album’s so fast. So we all talked about it: slowing the record down a bit to freak everybody out.”21-6
Fans accepted the record. Then they freaked out.
Slayer spent most of that tour as headliners, albeit in small venues: jam-packed clubs, roller rinks, and other makeshift concert halls. But in some key markets, they were selling out medium-sized venues.
In August 2013, Slayer announced two big shows with the ecstatic lead, “Slayer will headline concerts at two venues it hasn't played in 25 years!”21-7 The release didn’t mention why the band hadn’t played either since 1988. It was a good story. Two good stories.
An August 12 show at the Hollywood Palladium, with labelmates Danzig on the bill, was sold out — and then some. Fans didn’t take it well. After the Friday night concert, Slayer would be banned in their hometown for years.
“All-out carnage,” says Will Howell, who was inside the concert. “That tour, everyone comes out of the woodwork. It was frantic kids who wanted everything about Slayer. They weren’t banned from the Palladium based on who they were — it was the crowd they brought: It was us sick maniacs.”
As King recalled it, the 3,700-capacity venue was not just sold out, but oversold: According legend, fans with legitimate tickets were turned away.
“You can’t oversell it, have Slayer fans come up to the door, and not let them in,” King said. “And things were going to get broken. And things did get broken. And the police overreacted. And it was just chaos.”
Whether or not it’s the fact of the matter, “oversold” is the most common explanation for the debacle.
“You had a faction of kids saying, ‘I had a ticket, they wouldn’t let me in,” says Howell. “I was not in the box office doing a head count, so I can’t say for sure it was oversold. Also, don’t put it past scalpers to make fake tickets back in 1988.”
A Real TV report from the time captures unbelievable video footage of the night21-8.
“Music fans go wild when they can’t get in to see their favorite group in concert,” says the anchorman.
Producer Michael Brownlee narrates: “Hollywood California, the city of bright lights, movie stars, and — on this night — bad attitudes.”
Bad attitudes are swirling on every side of the affair.
“They’re playing, man,” a dejected concert goer says, beseeching a policeman in riot gear, after he’s been told to move along. That evening, fan complaints fell on many a deaf ear.
An estimated 200 fans mass outside the venue. Eventually, as the news narrator says, an active minority “go berserk.” When the screaming crowd in front of the doors won’t disperse, a bouncer the size of Lou Ferrigno shoos kids half his size, waving them off with a mean “Get OUT of here!”
They don’t go anywhere.
In classic fashion, a squad of a dozen armored riot police descend on Sunset and Argyle, jogging in in two parallel lines, in an scene much like the classic Gary Leonard photo from the cover of Henry Rollins’ Black Flag journal Get in the Van, which was taken at the same venue four years earlier. In future years, some of the action captured on videotape will recall another infamous image of the LAPD in action.
Soon, a dozen fans start a circle pit in the street.
“It appears that show outside is far more intense than the one inside,” says the narrator, incorrectly. Inside, after Danzig are being booed. After the opening act, Slayer fans are throwing elbows, moshing, and tossing sucker punches in the name of good time.
“As tempers flare and emotions run high, mayhem breaks out on every street and every corner,” he continues, over scenes of police chasing off longhairs and providing medical care to people lying on sidewalks.
In the parking lot, one hesher in jeans and a leather jacket kneels, still, next to a car. A policeman, one hand on the guy’s shoulder, beats him in the spine with a riot baton.
Back at the front doors, as the narrator says, “the fury reaches its boiling point.”
Dozens of fans are still standing in front of the opaque glass doors. And soon, they’re tired of standing and staring. A handful of them shatter a door, chucking objects through the frame. Shards of ebony glass cover the sidewalk. The kids jump for joy.
Uncontested, two fans run up to the doors, start grabbing pieces of glass, and hurling them into the lobby, shrieking. A fan in a white T-shirt, a flannel wrapped around his waist, invad
es the lobby and hurls a stick at the guards. Now the line has been crossed.
Outside, a fan stands by the broken door, taunting two more hulk bouncers in blue EVENT STAFF jackets. Seeing an oncoming object, the fan jumps to his left, just in time to avoid a flying folding table, hurled by security. Following the table, the bouncers race outside and try to grab the invader. On their tail, four more bulls in blue charge out. And the crowd begins to disperse.
When the scene dies down, paramedics cart out some concertgoers on gurneys. As far as riots go, it’s relatively small, and the score card is low: three arrests and three hospitalizations, no peace officers hurt. Slayer wouldn’t be welcome back to the venue for 25 years.
Whether they made it inside the concert, fans left the Palladium bleeding, concussed, and awestruck.
Slayer 66 2/3: The Jeff & Dave Years. A Metal Band Biography. Page 18
