It’s hard to believe that it’s some six years since we said goodbye to Slayer, waving farewell to a band who, for many, defined thrash metal. Since then, the band has hopped out of retirement for a scant handful of shows but, in all honesty, none of us ever expected to see them on this side of the pond ever again.
Then Sabbath happened.
Let’s be honest, no metal band was going to pass up the chance to say farewell to the originators of the genre and, with Slayer joining the metal elite in Birmingham, it provided the perfect opportunity for a little victory lap – the band organising two huge, outdoor shows in Cardiff and London. While the Cardiff show, which was held on July 3rd, had a handful of niggles (the majority of which affected the support bands) Slayer were, by all accounts, fucking awesome – a view confirmed when the band delivered one of the standout sets at the Sabbath show on Saturday. Now, with the world’s largest heavy metal concert firmly in the rearview mirror, it’s London’s turn…
The venue
Last week, we headed to Crystal Palace for the first time to witness Deftones deliver a masterclass in dynamic alternative metal. This week, we’re headed to Finsbury Park, also for the first time. For me, it’s a location forever associated with the Sex Pistols’ 1996 reunion – a show I initially heard on the radio, upgrading to CD only after wearing out my cassette recording – and it’s awesome to finally see the place in person.
First impressions are great. It takes just moments to get through security and then we’re into the park. Whoever designed the layout deserves a commendation for the way they managed to neatly separate all the key areas while allowing plenty of space for people to move around. To the left of the entrance is the arena – a leafy space with easy access – while, to the right you find the bulk of the bars, food stalls, merch stands, and toilets. It’s so cool to be in a place where you don’t spend half your time negotiating bottlenecks, and it’s a really comfortable site to wander around and explore. Moreover, it’s one of the best outdoor locations for a festival of this kind, with a gentle slope providing just enough lift away from the stage to ensure really good viewing angles from pretty much anywhere. This, coupled with sensibly arranged speaker towers, ensures that you get a good view and great sound from wherever you decide to park yourself.
With beer and merch safely in hand, we meander into the arena. Fortunately, with the weather proving a tad unpredictable, there are a number of trees providing shade from a midday sun that occasionally threatens to overwhelm, and shelter from the sudden bursts of rain. Overall, it establishes Finsbury Park as something of an oasis in the heart of London, complete with all sorts of hidden bars and food stalls once you move away from the main entrance. A highlight is the Brewdog bar, nestled deep within a cluster of trees, which provides additional respite from the unsettled weather.
Much like the Crystal Palace event, the choice of food and drink is better than you might expect. With plenty of choice, including clearly marked vegetarian, vegan, and gluten free options, a wealth of bars, and the ubiquitous ice cream vans (sadly not playing a version of Angel Of Death from their battered speakers), most tastes and needs are catered to – and the prices are largely reasonable, with beer no more costly than the average London bar.
Last but not least, in terms of the facilities themselves, the organisers nailed it. Bars, food stalls, and toilets are neatly positioned to ensure easy access and, while some of the food stalls see queues at peak times, these are rarely lengthy. With attendants on hand to keep the toilets clean, tidy, and well-stocked with toilet paper, it’s all astonishingly well run, and there are even people out in the arena keeping the litter from building up. Overall, with a thoughtful layout, friendly staff, and excellent range of facilities, Finsbury Park proved to be a really pleasant place in which to spend the day.
The bands
While somewhat overshadowed by Sabbath’s farewell performance, the news of Slayer’s return was no small matter and, as might be expected, the bill is packed with great bands. With Neckbreakker flying the flag for metal’s youth, and a handful of old hands ready to flatten the park, it’s an exceptional bill and one for which it’s well worth turning up early.
Of course, for all the blood and thunder, the crowd is predictably chilled and friendly. Indeed, it’s rare to encounter a crowd as positive and community minded as the Slayer collective and, with fans simply excited to see their band back in action, there’s an incredibly friendly vibe, for all of the crackling energy that can be found in the pit.
Opening the day, we have a young band hailing from Denmark. Neckbreakker formed just five years ago, making it all the more impressive that they’ve already made their way to a stage of this size and stature. Having missed out on the Cardiff show due to timing issues, the band are clearly out to kill and they prove a worthy addition to the bill, warming the crowd up nicely for what’s to follow.
Led by the effervescent Christoffer Bach Kofoed, it’s really cool to see so youthful a band ticking off all the right boxes and, with chunky riffs and plenty of energy, Neckbreakker set the pit alight, converting a good number of the unfamiliar in the process.
It’s easy to feel jaded when the media concentrates so heavily on bands that have been treading the boards for multiple decades. So, to see a band like Neckbreakker march on stage with all the attitude and aggression of a far more established band is not only an incredibly positive thing, but it leaves us with the impression that metal is in safe hands.
Last year, at Bloodstock, Hatebreed celebrated a remarkable 30 years of loosening the bolts in their fan’s necks, delivering a powerfully entertaining set in the process. Here, celebrating the (temporary) return of Slayer, the band remain on top form, upping the ante as Jamey Jasta unleashes his balls of death [ummm – I must check my notes about that one] As Jamey notes, when Slayer calls you about a show, the only answer is “tell us when and where to be” – and Hatebreed more than step up to the challenge.
The band have the pit raging right from the opening blast of I Will Be Heard – a surging hardcore / groove metal crossover – and, from there, it’s clear that Hatebreed are in no mood for compromise, unleashing a short, sharp set that includes belters such as Perseverance and Destroy Everything. By the time the band wrap things up, with a savage Looking Down The Barrel Of Today, the pit is little more than a cloud of choking dust, two massive Hatebreed balls [ahhh yeah, now it makes sense] barely visible from within the maelstrom. It makes for one hell of a finale.
A shot of adrenaline straight to the pit, despite the fact that I’m not overly familiar with Hatebreed’s recorded work, they absolutely nail their performance today and there’s an instinctive groove to their material that just makes you want to bang your head. In short, Hatebreed are pretty much the perfect band for the moment and they kick things up a gear with their anthems of rebellion.
Mastadon and Slayer go back a ways, with the former having taken part in the legendary Unholy Alliance tour back in 2006 (seriously, if you can still pick up the DVD, then do – it was an absolutely epic line up), and it’s great to have them along for the ride. I must admit, I’ve always found Mastadon to be a bit patchy live – often hampered by a poor sound that buries the nuances of their recorded work. Today, however, the band (who also turned in an astonishingly tight set at the Sabbath shindig) are on fine form.
With a varied setlist that offers something for everyone, Mastadon get things off to a fine start with the heavy stoner groove of Tread Lightly (from Once More Around The Sun) just as the sun reaches punishing levels of intensity. The band continue to focus on their more recent output with heavy-ass takes on The Motherlode and a stabbing Pushing The Tides, both receiving rapturous welcomes, only to truly devastate the field with a splenetic Crystal Skull. This is Mastadon firing on all cylinders, and the growing crowd makes its appreciation felt, cheering the band on between each song.
Not always the easiest of bands, with new guitarist Nick Johnston making his presence felt, Mastadon seem to have a new sense of purpose, even looking like they’re having fun throughout the performance. As a result, it passes by in the blink of an eye, racing towards a towering conclusion that comprises Motherpuncher, Steambreather and, to the crowd’s very great delight, Blood And Thunder.
With great sound, great presence, and a great setlist, Mastadon reminded all present just why they are so revered, and it’ll be exciting to see where the band head next.
There’s something about the pairing of Anthrax and Slayer that always works great. Both members of the “big four”, Anthrax partied hard with Slayer on their farewell trek, and they’re a natural inclusion here. While hardly prolific these days (it’s been nine long years since the excellent For All Kings album), Anthrax never disappoint live and today is no exception, although their set remains far too short when you consider the sheer number of classics the band have at their command.
Nevertheless, a short Anthrax set has the benefit of incredible potency and, over the course of forty minutes or so, the boys show just how frantic and fun they can be. They kick off with an immense Among The Living, the riffs slashing across the field with razor precision. Just in case the audience haven’t yet got the message, they follow it up with Caught In A Mosh – the band’s unofficial anthem – which does exactly what it says on the tin, reviving the flagging spirits of the pit and setting several circle pits in motion simultaneously. With Joey Belladonna whipping up the crowd for all he’s worth and Scott Ian flashing a malicious grin, Anthrax have little time for pleasantries, unleashing Madhouse and Metal Thrashing Mad with a kinetic force that could easily fool the unwary into imagining these are new pieces.
With the set nearing its end, an epic Antisocial not only proves to be a site-wide singalong, but it also finds Joey cheekily dropping in a snippet of Run To The Hills, just to see if we’re paying attention. Then, following a rabid Got The Time, the band wrap things up with Indians. Despite a slight misstep that leaves Joey clapping hands in the crowd without a soundtrack, it’s a brilliant finale before the band finally take their bows, promising to return in the new year and with a new album in tow!
Quite how Anthrax have so much energy and enthusiasm remains a mystery but, were it possible to harness the source that powers them, the energy crisis would be over in minutes.
When Amon Amarth first raged onto the scene, they had a certain hunger to them, and their early records combined might and melody in equal measure. There is an argument however, that the band has become just a little too comfortable with their own sound in recent years, the records becoming increasingly samey and the live set following suit.
While the band certainly know how to make an appearance – the stage is bracketed by inflatable warriors and the drum kit sits inside a Viking helmet – they hit a groove on opening track Guardians Of Asgaard and stick to it like glue, with the likes of Shield Wall and Deceiver Of The Gods seeing the band alter neither tempo nor delivery.
While it’s clearly not without merit – there are plenty of Amon Amarth fans in attendance and an almighty pit continues throughout the show – it’s just too samey for our tastes and it comes as something of a relief when the band wrap things up with a suitably grandiose Twilight Of The Thunder God. Ultimately, the immense performances from Anthrax and Mastadon today only serve to leave Aman Amarth feeling a touch one-dimensional. However, their fans clearly disagree, and there’s no denying the band’s skill when it comes to whipping up a pit.
And so… the reason we’re all here…Slayer. A band many thought never to see again are once again on stage, wreathed in smoke and flame, and sounding every bit as awesome as they ever did. While a malfunctioning drop cloth slightly diminishes the band’s entrance, when opening number South Of Heaven exploding from the speakers, people up and down the field can be seen hugging and oh, good lord: This. Is. Fucking. Epic.
What follows is nothing short of incendiary. With the setlist providing a rampant ride through the band’s back catalogue, little is missed and there’s a frantic energy to it all that belies the band’s recent period of hibernation. Hell, there’s a fair argument to be made that, with Tom Araya’s voice rested, Slayer actually sound better tonight than they did on their farewell trek. Or maybe absence simply made the heart grow fonder. Whatever the reason, Slayer sound utterly ferocious as they tear through Repentless (a nice showcase for Gary Holt’s technical skill), an unhinged Disciple (complete with neck-wrecking coda) and, catching us off guard, Die By The Sword – a rare nod to their formative years.
Providing as much respite as Slayer have ever been prepared to offer, the sinister opening to Jihad finds some nimble guitar giving way to a towering, doom-laden riff before Tom takes a moment to ask if we’re ready. If you’ve seen Slayer before, you’ll know there’s only one possible outcome to this question – War Ensemble – and it’s hard to choke back the excitement as the band flatten the faithful of Finsbury Park with an unassailable thrash classic.
It doesn’t stop there. Chemical Warfare sees the stage doused in green, Reborn harks back to Reign In Blood, before an immense Mandatory Suicide reminds us that no one can quite match the harrowing intensity of Slayer at their malevolent best. It all sounds epic and, across the field, you can see people headbanging, cheering, and screaming the lyrics – just lost in the moment as the greatest thrash band in the world unleashes hell. It’s a powerful, cathartic, and emotional moment and, for just a few brief hours, we’re transported to a world where Slayer are still a constant upon whom you can rely.
Taking another moment to address the crowd, Tom decides it’s time for a little lesson in love. Of course, that lesson involves loving someone to death and, with an evil glint in his eye, he leads the band into the unbridled horror of Dead Skin Mask as haunting images flash up on the giant screen behind the band.
How do you explain to the uninitiated just how magnificent this all is? Honestly, it’s hard to put into words – which is a shame, because that’s kinda my job here.
Sure, it’s relentless, but it’s also all-encompassing, wrapping you up in a moment which, for all its energy, is filled with an all-consuming love for the band. Maybe Franz Treichler (The Young Gods) said it best when he distinguished between violence, which can exist in the spirit of a monumental riff; and aggression, which is all about the intent to harm. Slayer make violent music, but there’s catharsis here too, as well as the togetherness that comes from a shared sense of purpose, and it’s a joyful violence that leaves everyone smiling – including Tom, who gives every impression of having an absolute blast throughout.
With the night racing towards its inevitable conclusion, the band tear through a number of blistering cuts. Hate Worldwide (from Repentless) still sounds utterly unhinged, while no one can resist the brooding majesty of Seasons In The Abyss. Then there’s Hell Awaits which, in its live incarnation, could feasibly stake a claim for being one of the greatest thrash songs ever written. Certainly, with the stage doused in fire and smoke, it looks and sounds immense.
And suddenly we’re at the end. With the band still riding high off the previous night’s Sabbath show, they serve a Wicked World sandwich with Post Mortem as it’s meaty filling, before wrapping things up with the still-incomparable pairing of Raining Blood and Angel Of Death. With the latter seeing Tom nail that scream with a vigour that sends shivers down the spine, the years melt away and you can only hope against all hope that this isn’t really the last time.
A predictable finale? Maybe. But when it’s one of the finest, heaviest conclusions to any heavy metal show anywhere ever, who the hell is going to argue? Ultimately, and much like the Sabbath show, these special performances provided a remarkable coda to a remarkable career and, if this really, really is the end, what a way to go.
Thank you Slayer, for everything – you fucking rule!
