I’ll never forget where I was the first time I heard “Angel of Death”, the turgid cascade of sadism that kicks off Reign in Blood. I was at my friend Martin’s house, in his bedroom, trying to figure out what to do with another uncharted Saturday evening. Martin popped this cassette on to get us motivated and the first few seconds of diligent riffing straightened my spine out like a hot iron. I became a spooked prairie dog, looking off into the distance trying in vain to spot my advancing destructor. Every cymbal crash shook me to the core. Yet, as frightened as I was, I was also invigorated, and maybe slightly empowered. This was calling me to some kind of action.
Just as I began to glean serious enjoyment from the feeling of ”Angel of Death’s” maddening rhythm coursing through my veins, I was startled anew by that outrageous Tom Araya falsetto scream. I could not believe a man was emitting that high-pitched noise. It sounded like some sort of guitar mistake. Like, the guitarist started a wild solo, but then said, “Fuck it, I’m just gonna shred on this one sustained note.” Martin assured me this curious sound originated from Slayer’s lead singer. I didn’t have time to reflect upon this, though, for “Angel of Death” had one more jaw-dropping surprise in store for me (these things always come in threes, y’know?). Behold, the first thirteen words of the song:
“Auschwitz, the meaning of pain! The way that I want you to die!”
Suddenly, the pulpit of Axl Rose did not seem all that threatening. Auschwitz is the way that you want me to die? That’s some seriously twisted shit, bro. That’s beyond extreme, something you only say in a thick red cloud of lividity brought on by multiple Jägerbombs or extended dealings with the IRS. Then again, when your band is called Slayer, you’d better bring the dangerously over the top lyrics to match your furious symphony of heavy metal (the closest sonic equivalent anyone’s ever heard to being ripped apart by a pack of wild dogs).
You know what’s funny, though? Reign in Blood actually managed to crack the Billboard 200 when it was originally released in 1986 (peaking at #94), which just goes to show you can’t count an album out of the pop realm just because it graphically discusses assorted forms of murder and sports a couple of erect demon penises on its cover. Hell, it was only a few years after this album that Madonna began making videos that sort of resembled Reign in Blood’s devilish artwork. Sure, the hell goblins in her set pieces had better abs and complexions to die for, but it was the same basic deal.
But I digress. Reign in Blood, Slayer’s third studio effort, is unequivocally the densest, fastest, and angriest array of classic thrash ever put to tape. To this day, its lofty influence still echoes loudly through the dank halls of various heavy metal sub-genres. Yet RIB was the lifetime pass Slayer never really needed. This was one metal band that never strived for anything beyond endless servings of highly concentrated head-splitting guitar noise and the cultish support of their foaming-at-the-mouth fan base.
Yes, Slayer’s endlessly devoted knew there was no danger of guitarist Kerry King showing up with a microphone to wax political on MTV’s “Rock the Vote!” or bopping over to the salon for a trendy haircut to rival Matthew Perry. What chinked Metallica‘s armor would have surely knocked Slayer completely off the battle grid. Thus, Def Jam’s most revered non-rap act played it insular, remaining as pure as (in)humanly possible. The end result? I think Slayer’s biggest mistake was covering “Born to be Wild” for that NASCAR compilation a few years ago, which is really just barely a mistake at all.
The bare bones/think-inside-the-box approach is excellently exemplified on Reign in Blood, an album that, at a mere 30 minutes, is so compact and visceral it’s tough to zero in on even the smallest ugly hunk of fat. Still, I believe one exists, and I must bravely come forward with it lest anyone accuse me of wimping out on Slayer. I do believe the vocals on deep cut “Reborn” are Reign in Blood’s unavoidable misfire. It seems like Tom Araya was trying to emulate Jello Biafra via the Dead Kennedys’ “Drug Me” on this track, but it just doesn’t come across. Tom-O doesn’t have the verbal dexterity to succinctly cram all that wordifyin’ into such a tiny space.
I’ll gladly admit, however, that what Tom is actually saying in “Reborn” is a fun revenge-based narrative told from the perspective of a witch about to be burned at the stake. “My rage will be unleashed again, burning the next morn; death means nothing, there is no end—I will be reborn!” Awesome.
“There is no end—I will be reborn!” Isn’t that similar to what Vigo the Carpathian was saying near the end of Ghostbusters II? I desperately want to believe Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis lifted that entire part of the script from a Slayer album, but odds are it’s probably all just some massive coincidence. One thing’s for sure; the finished product those guys gave us in ’89 was pathetically void of rabid thrash metal. Would it have killed you to throw a little in somewhere, fellas? Such elements only served to improve Gremlins 2: The New Batch.
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