Slayer's Reign in Blood (33 1/3) (5 page)

“It’s like you see motorcycle guys pass each other on the highway,” says
Metal on Metal
host Bill Peters. “One guy will be
on a Harley, and one guy will be on a Honda, but they still put up their fist to each other when they pass each other It’s the same thing with metal guys. It’s a bond, an eternal bond.”

Whether they were too erudite or too soft, bands like the Cult, the Cure, and Oingo Boingo didn’t speak to most metal fans—be they suburban kids with a need for speed, or blue-collar weekend warriors.

“The college crowd had their indie music they listened to, but I never associated [thrash] with any kind of class structure,” says Nuclear Assault/S.O.D. bassist Dan Lilker. “It’s not [a movement] in an English-skinheads sense where we were saying, ‘It’s our music, for us.’ I think it just turned out that way.”

Most A-list thrash musicians graduated from high school, skipped college, and turned their band into a small business. They built their own risers and stuffed them into Ryder trucks every weekend. In 1986, thrash broke out of the underground. By then, the big four bands had major-label deals. All would eventually score at least one platinum record. Three of them released albums that year, which was arguably the genre’s artistic peak.

“Those were the epiphany albums for the thrash and speed-metal genre,” says former Megadeth bassist Dave Ellefson. “Those were our statements as thrash pioneers. After that, the die had been cast.”

Metallica’s
Master of Puppets
ranged from short blasts to nine-minute epics with acoustic intros and climactic jams. Signed to Elektra Records, the band would be the first thrash band to graduate to arenas, and they’d never look back. 1991’s
Metallica
(the Black Album) alone would sell over 15 million copies, and the group became one of the biggest rock bands
in the world, period. It’s certainly good work if you can get it, but the disc doesn’t have the same kick as their debut, 1983’s
Kill ’Em All
.

Megadeth’s
Peace Sells … But Who’s Buyin’?
marked the pinnacle of the Black Sabbath blues-and-jazz-influenced tradition. Led by original Metallica guitarist Dave Mustaine, the group dealt in blistering leads, bloody imagery, and vaguely political lyrics. The group’s hard-partying ways hobbled the group, and lineups shattered. Megadeth effectively became the Dave Mustaine Band. It drifted far from its classic form, but scored Capitol Records five platinum plaques in the process.

Representing New York City, Anthrax came to the party late. Island Records released
Among the Living
in 1987. Anthrax would make “mosh” a household word and put a friendlier face on thrash. The most accessible big four band wrote songs about comic books and Stephen King novels. Later, the B-side “I’m the Man” would spark rap metal. Over the years, the band endured lineup changes, and kept making good records that were markedly less thrashy.

Shortest and fastest of the ’86 vintage was Slayer’s
Reign in Blood
, twenty-nine minutes of punk-bred aggression. Slayer’s third album was released on Def Jam Records, home of L.L. Cool J and the Beastie Boys. Over twenty years later, Slayer’s same four members still play with lethal intent. They still bang their heads. They’re still pissed off about religion. They’re still fast.

“I think Slayer, when you look at the biggest bands from the thrash scene, they certainly stayed true to their thrash roots more than any other members of the big four,” says Ernst. “They’re pretty much still the reigning kings of thrash. They’re gods in the metal scene.”

Slayer is respected by pundits, acknowledged by the
National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, and beloved by fans. With a pure-thrash discography, the uncompromising group is a role model for generations of musicians.
Reign in Blood
is their definitive statement.

“The best thrash metal band of all times,” says Angela Gossow, singer of Sweden’s Arch Enemy. “Whoever does not own
Reign in Blood
doesn’t know metal history. It’s a genre-defining milestone, a relentless assault of some of the best thrash metal riffs one could ever come up with. Lots of bands are stealing from it, but never manage to execute it in the same sadistic manner.”

In 1987,
Hit Parader
’s Anne Leighton noted that Slayer “come across as merely West Coast guys who happened to have picked up Stratocasters instead of surf boards.”
⁵
They still do.

Hanneman’s a blond Cali dude who says “hella” when he means “very.” Lombardo takes a hushed, reverent tone when he talks about his wife and kids. Araya brings his family on tour, and he comes across as a mellow soul. King’s equally content talking about Judas Priest or the Raiders. Lombardo’s the most introspective; the other three simply do what they do. Not one of them seems to have the kind of self-aggrandizing personal mythology that’s common with less accomplished groups.

The creators’ recollections of the
Reign
era are often vague: Decades of constant activity have slightly faded Rick Rubin’s once-photographic memory. The band didn’t slow down or take a long break until 1992; by then, they’d been going constantly for a decade. When they talk about their records, it’s
like Randy Moss explaining how he shook coverage, suddenly accelerated, and extended for an amazing catch: He didn’t plan it out. He just made it. If you see
Reign
as a concept album, or you think a King-Hanneman solo symbolically represents the howl of a soul trapped in the abyss for all eternity, you’re thinking about it on a level the band never did.

Like their music, Slayer aren’t much different since their rise to renown. They’re still focused and confident. Following their tastes and instincts has taken them this far.

Over the years, Slayer has stayed competitive by inviting A-squad groups on tour. Mastodon’s Bill Kelliher has played 150 shows with the band. Kelliher notes, “Jeff Hanneman told me once, ‘We formed this band right out of high school, and it’s like we never had to grow up.’ And they didn’t: They still wear jeans and T-shirts, and they’re still like
that hellion guy
.”

King concurs. “I’m still seventeen,” he told the Cincinnati
City Beat
’s Alan Sculley. “That’s probably why our music kicks so much ass, because we’re still kids.”
⁶

Now and then, Slayer are hellion guys who can
play
.

“Slayer was like well-trained athletes who had a shitload of training and could go out and kick your ass all the time,” says former Overkill drummer Rat Skates. “They knew what they could do, and they did it, never going like, ‘Heh. Look what we did.’ They’re four Michael Jordans. Four Michael Jordans on a team are always going to win the championship.”

Add producer Rick Rubin and engineer Andy Wallace to the team, and that makes a lucky six.

The
de facto
title track of
Reign in Blood
began in one of Jeff
Hanneman’s nightmares. The guitarist is a ball-buster, a boozer, and a Grammy-winner. He’s the principle creative force behind the signature moments from Slayer’s signature album.

Like Snoop Dogg and Sublime, Hanneman hails from Long Beach. The popular version of Slayer history says he’s from Huntington Beach, though he isn’t. He was Slayer’s first punk enthusiast, so it’s natural to link him to the home of Black Flag and the Circle Jerks.

“At the time, it was pretty middle-class, white, whatever, nothing exciting,” says Hanneman, reflecting on the LBC. “I was the last of five kids, so my life was pretty…. My parents didn’t even bother with me. As long as I wasn’t doing anything wrong, ‘Ah, whatever, he’s fine.’ I think [Slayer] were all basically middle class children.”

Hanneman had an unusual tour guide to the metal. Real metal wasn’t on the radio often, and you had to learn about it from someone or somewhere. If you wanted more, you had to do some digging—and that arcane knowledge often came from the older local headbangers at school, work, or the record store. Hanneman didn’t discover it through the hesher network.

“My older sister Mary got me into Black Sabbath,” says Hanneman. “She was the 60s hippie-type girl, partying, into metal. And I think I was eight, nine years old, hanging out at her house. She was playing Black Sabbath. ‘Who the hell is this? This is good.’ ‘You
like
this? I’ve got some more crazy stuff …’”

Hanneman became his peer group’s metal evangelist, telling everyone the good news about Tony Iommi, whether they wanted to hear it or not.

“I rub off on people,” says Hanneman. “Like, ‘Listen to it. No,
listen to it
.’ I’m very forceful. If I’m into something, I make
everybody into it. Ask Kerry about that.”

King, a fan of classic rock’s fretwork and soaring vocals, hated punk until Hanneman twisted his ear with D.R.I.’s
Dealing with It
in 1985. The two met when King was auditioning for a sub-Sabbath rock group called Ledger. On the way out of the practice space, King heard Hanneman working on some familiar tunes, and decided he’d rather be in a band with that guy instead.

King and Hanneman both play lead and rhythm, rejecting the traditional roles of star and backup player. Casual fans can’t tell their playing apart. Aficionados don’t even bother: in 2004,
Guitar World
ranked the team as number 10 on its list of the 100 Greatest Heavy Metal Guitarists of All Time.

“Kerry and Jeff have their total own sound,” says Exodus guitarist Gary Holt. “It’s recognizable immediately. You know it when you hear it: It’s Slayer. It’s all about mayhem and chaos. They unabashedly go out and do their thing.”

Hanneman didn’t grow up dreaming of being a guitar hero; he just felt something calling him to the stage.

“I knew I was going to be in a band,” says Hanneman. “I didn’t know why. I didn’t sing. I didn’t play an instrument.”

Hanneman was a good student who became bored with school when booze, weed, and sex became options. He grew up listening to Zeppelin and Aerosmith. Once he reached Jordan High, hardcore punk rock put the zap on his head.

With strands of gray in his hair and beard, Hanneman now looks like a veteran Norse warrior. When
Reign in Blood
was released, it would catch heat for “Angel of Death,” the album’s opening cut, a song about Nazi Josef Mengele. With blond hair and blue eyes, Hanneman took the brunt of it, though he wasn’t a Nazi or white supremacist. Around
Reign
in Blood
, he would become best buds with Rocky George, Suicidal Tendencies’ black guitarist. When Rick Rubin came calling, Hanneman was the only member of Slayer familiar with his rap work. But the guitarist did have some knowledge of the Third Reich.

Hanneman hails from a somewhat military family. His two brothers had served in Vietnam, and his father had fought in World War II. Mr. Hanneman brought back Nazi gear as souvenirs. The shiny relics and sharp uniforms caught Hanneman’s eye.

By high school, Hanneman preferred raging over history. At parties, he would hone his drinking skills. He was the charter member of Slayer’s O.A. Club, short for “Obnoxious Asshole.” Hanneman was the joker of the group—assuming that you could tolerate his needling as joking. No one was safe, not then, not later.

“We’re at a party,” recalls former Overkill drummer Rat Skates. “And [Metallica guitarist] Kirk Hammett is there. And all night long, Jeff kept badgering him, like, ‘Hey, Captain Kirk! Captain Kirk!’”

The members of Slayer would use
O.A.
as an adjective, noun, and verb. Making the rounds for
Reign in Blood
, Hanneman would O.A. Adam Bomb, a hotly tipped hard-rock guitarist and bandleader.

Slayer met Rick Rubin through Scott Koenig, then a record-store clerk who already knew the band from the inner circles of New York’s rock clubs. Once Slayer had signed to Def Jam, when the group were in New York, Koenig was assigned to keep an eye on the gnarly prankster. One night, Koenig and Hanneman found themselves at an Adam Bomb show.

“Jeff gets all drunk,” recalls Koenig. “And he’s like, ‘That guy’s fuckin’ really good. Take me backstage, I want to meet him.’”

Backstage, Hanneman cut a swath through a small crowd of poodleheads, barging his way to the deli tray. Holding a beer in one hand, he shoved cold cuts into his mouth with the other. The diminutive Bomb guessed Hanneman must be
somebody
, and introduced himself.

“He’s looking terrified,” says Koenig. “And he’s like, ‘Hey, what’s up? My name’s Adam. What’s yours?’ And [Hanneman] takes a piece of American cheese, smashes it on Adam’s forehead, and says, ‘So
you’re
the big cheese around here!’”

Bomb reportedly took the cheese incident well; maybe he could sense a fellow natural-born shredder. Hanneman had only been playing a month when he met King. With King and George’s guidance, Hanneman developed into a formidable wielder of the axe. More than anyone else in the group, Hanneman’s lack of formal music training defines his style.

“Jeff plays notes that are just angry to be together,” says King. “He experiments, just trying to sound different, trying to do something that’s never been done before, maybe. He never had lessons, so he’s not poisoned by what you’re supposed to think.”

What Hanneman
does
think is something of a mystery. He wrote just over half of
Reign in Blood
, the band’s most highly regarded album. At the time of the record, he and Araya were the two most-interviewed members of the band. He’s since become something of a recluse—in matters concerning the band, at least. He keeps some space from his coworkers, too.

In our interview, Hanneman casually mentions that his sister Mary—the one who turned him on to metal—died in a
car crash. When asked how the death affected his friend, King says it’s the first he’s heard of it. And he’s not surprised.

“Jeff’s pretty hard-headed,” says King.

It’s hard to tell what goes on in Hanneman’s head, but this much we know: One night, he had a dream about murder most foul. And he would share that chilling episode with King. The bad dream ushered in a good era.