Bread Of Heaven? Nah, it’s just bangers from hell as Slayer make their spectacular UK return in Cardiff…
“Which of you were here when we first played the London Marquee back in 1985,” asks Tom Araya midway through Slayer’s demolition of Cardiff on a balmy Thursday evening. A couple of grey-haired veterans still unleashing hell down the front throw up their horns and roar their affirmation. “Oh yeah?” big Tom grins, with devilish glee. “Were you the ones spitting on me?”
There’s no danger of any such hostility tonight. Four decades down the line, and six years since they signed off with what was billed as their ‘final’ UK show at Download 2019, it’s just adulation raining down on the Californian thrash icons. And blood, naturally. And billowing waves of fire.
With Britpop icons Oasis scheduled to begin their mammoth comeback tour at the Principality Stadium in 24 hours' time, the Welsh capital is already braced for bucket hat-clad, lager-fuelled chaos. Locals seem surprised by the army of battle jackets and black shirts crowding out the city’s bars and rock clubs, mind. But absolutely everyone filing past the castle into Blackweir Fields knows that Hell Awaits.
Truncated stage times due to strict licensing in the city mean their all-star supporting line-up get short shrift. Danish upstarts NECKBREAKKER have been knocked off the bill altogether. Hatebreed get a paltry 20 minutes, 15 after doors, and the patented ‘Balls Of Death’ are already tumbling around the pit by the time most of those stuck in the queue have made it past security. Still, there are few songs better than I Will Be Heard and Destroy Everything to rev an excitable crowd up to speed, and the day’s first bust noses emerge from the pit alongside shit-eating grins.
Mastodon are in no mood for fucking around, either. Opening with the percussive onslaught of Crystal Skull before piling through Black Tongue, Mother Puncher and Megalodon, the Atlanta bruisers eschew most of their proggier material today in favour of primal brutality. Appearing for the first time on these shores without founding guitarist Brent Hinds, there’s a big point to prove, but fill-in six-stringer Nick Johnston has enough charisma and technical nous to ensure the future is bright. And in concussive closer Blood And Thunder they’ve still got one of metal’s greatest songs.
Anthrax are in less of a hurry. Turning up a few minutes late, the New York legends seem more interested in wringing every ounce of chaos from classics Caught In A Mosh and their cover of Trust classic Antisocial than cramming in extra songs. Indeed, the triumphant roar-along to Indians – even the most knuckle-dragging pit trolls throwing arms around mates’ shoulders – is beautiful.
Arriving with full production including inflatable statues and a newly gold-painted horned-helmet drum riser, there’s more of a sense of occasion for Amon Amarth. Beginning with a bludgeoning Guardians Of Asgard, though, and piling straight into a brutal Shield Wall, the Stockholm Vikings are in the mood for violence. Yes, frontman Johan Hegg spectacularly decks it a couple of minutes in, and the sit-down-and-row nonsense for Put Your Back Into The Oar is still the silliest sight in modern metal, but the climactic Twilight Of The Thunder God is very much the sound of war.
It’s not Amon Amarth’s name that fans have been screaming at each other out on the street all day, though. It’s not Anthrax’s logo that excitable acolytes have scrawled into the walls. And as great as Mastodon and Hatebreed are, they’ll never achieve the cult status of the mighty Slayer. It’s a point highlighted by the five-minute recap of their legendary career that flashes across the big screens before they hit the stage. They're then underlined as the Delusions Of Saviour intro-tape (held over from the ‘farewell’ tour) cuts out and they launch into a spine-tingling South Of Heaven. Repentless cranks the tempo with apt mercilessness. Then a ferocious Disciple – accompanied by spectacular inverted-cross pyro – sends the massive crowd ballistic: everyone in the pit hammering the shit out of each other while everyone else screams the immortal refrain: ‘God hates us all!’
Fewer than six years since they called it a day, with the stasis of COVID eating up much of the intervening time, excitement for Slayer’s reunion dates has been somewhat muted. But being confronted with the heat and fury of their live show is a bracing reminder of what we’ve been missing. From War Ensemble to Mandatory Suicide, Jihad to Spirit In Black, they have a catalogue that is simply unmatched. Shameless satanic shtick like evil amp-stacks and infernal flame-jets feels somehow more authentic, more sincerely sinister when under their control. And with Tom, guitarists Kerry King and Gary Holt and drummer Paul Bostaph visibly refreshed at what’s still just the third show since their return, there is simply no substitute in the world of heavy music.
Concerns that their headline set might be cut short prove unfounded, too, as we get a solid 100 minutes with barely a pause for breath. Chemical Warfare. Born Of Fire. Dead Skin Mask. Seasons In The Abyss. Hell, Postmortem is eventually taken over by the audience as ever more chaos unfolds. Gleefully malicious as those songs may be, there’s an almost religious sense of community and shared catharsis, even at the heart of the fray. And as an unhinged climactic salvo of Raining Blood (complete with red pyro falling from the top of the stage), Black Magic and Angel Of Death explodes from the speakers, the legions getting smashed in the face soak it in with a smile.
“We’ll see you again,” Tom signs off, mischievously, as the smoke clears. “Maybe...” And even as the thrashed-out thousands spill off howling ‘SLAAAAAAYYYEEEEEEURGH!!!’ into the night, you can bet that every one is quietly praying we do. Black eyes and broken bones will heal, eventually, but nights like these are forever. Absolutely fucking incredible.
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