I read a review of this record in a popular extreme metal magazine in which the writer mentioned how, despite continued disappointments, the release of a Slayer album is always an event within the extreme metal calendar. I disagree. And I’m sad of this. Slayer ruled the ‘80s with a bloody fist. From the dank stirrings of their early cavernous thrash records, to the classic ‘Reign In Blood’, the slower, yet equally brilliant ‘South Of Heaven’, and the mix of both being the fabulous ‘Seasons…’ And then it went downhill….very rapidly…from there. I still think the departure of drum warlock Dave Lombardo was a critical factor in the bands crumble. ‘Divine..’ was lacklustre, lacking the gory horizons although there were a handful of decent cuts. ‘Diabolus…’strayed into the realms then occupied by nu-metal and the likes of Fear Factory and their mechanised rumbling. In other words, it was a poor record, more suited to accompanying wrestlers into a ring! And by this point, the interest in Slayer was waning, and I found myself stating the same things time and time again. Kerry King’s attempts at extremity were laughable, old chords were rehashed, lyrically stagnant, Araya became lifeless, the drums watered down, the atmospheres no longer dripped blood, and the constant ‘Reign In Blood’ imitations were tiresome. ‘God Hates Us All’ waltzed by to no effect, only Araya and Hanneman’s tracks giving us a small glimpse into a past which was quickly being clouded by the failures of the present. ‘Christ Illusion’ however promised much, especially as Lombardo was back in the fold, but once again the band attempted to recreate the glories of the past. However, this is twenty years later, and why taint the legend that had already embedded itself into metal history ? Slayer were simply unable to escape the ghosts of yesteryear. King’s anthems of pain, aggression and obscenity were simply dire screams in a world now dominated by Slipknot and their hilarious ‘evil’. ‘Christ Illusion’ was banished to the pit without even a whimper. And so, we’re back again, with ‘World Painted Blood’ and you know what, isn’t it about time the guys hung up their instruments ? Let’s see….
No-one expects a cutting edge, ground-breaking record from Slayer, but what we don’t want is regurgitation, but of course, Slayer just can’t help it. They’ve got nothing left in the locker, they’ve been running on empty for several years now, sucking the shit back into their system and putting it out for the public to purchase in the hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll have another ‘Reign In Blood’. But do Slayer fans really want another ‘Reign…’ ? If so why ? Any anyway, it can’t be done, it was a time and a moment, but when Slayer realise on occasion, that regurgitation is pointless, we get a handful of half-decent cuts only because they are unable to create anything else. It hurts to say it, and yet time and time again it rears its head, the fact that Slayer are simply existing on their past. The gigs will make them the cash because they can rely on about five albums of classic material but the latter day stuff just doesn’t hold on. Or does it ?
The title cut, written by Hanneman and Araya, begins menacingly and as Lombardo’s marching drums puncture the slow grinding guitars, you begin to think this could well be a return to the form every one and their dog has gone on about on every poor album since the early ‘90s. Lyrically it’s pretty formula, Araya’s rasp is aggressive and the mid-tempo chorus reeks of a blackness not heard since the fetid ooze of ‘Seasons..’. The Hanneman creation ‘Unit 731’ is furious and vicious, cutting thrash that, like a razor slices the flesh. Buzzing guitars, rattling drums, and again, suddenly all could be forgiven, because although there are the remnants of ‘Reign…’, ‘South…’ etc, seeping from the cracks, there appears to be a light at the end of the tunnel, or maybe I’m thinking that this record, based on the first two tracks would be a good way to end the career. A fitting last word. King’s ‘Snuff’ is a basic (as expected) assault on the senses, but betters the efforts he puked out on the last two records. And then, thankfully, we are back to another Araya and Hanneman cut, the truly fantastic ‘beauty Through Order’. Sure, the mid-section is ‘Reign…’, but the mid-pace morbidity is creepy and yet catchy in its deviant pounding, Lombardo’s drums come to the fore, Araya is the preacher of the perverted, and then we have the King and Hanneman solo’s which whine, twist and wind through the black smoke. Suddenly, I’m shocked, lapping away at the humble pie and scraping the egg of my face….is this really Slayer back on form ? I peer over the horizon and notice another King composition, ‘Hate Worldwide’ sounds like another of those wrestling anthems, it’s naïve, lacking any kind of darkness as it attempts to gouge the eyes in its ferocity. I dunno, but King has been writing this kind of short and sharp hate song for a few years now, and it’s soon followed by another, ‘Public Display Of Dismemberment’, which had added meat and flavour, a punkoid thrash fest of predictable nature, leaving me to crave another Hanneman and Araya composition. We get it with the creeping ‘Human Strain’. I truly believe that an album solely written by Hanneman/Araya, would be a classic, they have a knack for the festering, morbid soundcsapes, the behemoth poetry and the flashes of the past without the phony regurgitation. King’s ‘Americon’ is average, a punky chant with some interesting guitar parts, but the track seems out of place, especially as Hanneman’s demented thrash vomit ‘Psychopathy Red’ stains the sky red. Brutal, uncompromising and showing us why Slayer were once the most fearsome band on the planet. ‘Playing With Dolls’ suggests that Slayer still might be, and believe me, I never thought I’d hear myself saying that again! King, Hanneman and Araya have all created this slow, thunderous and seedy masterpiece that hints at the ‘South Of Heaven’ blackness of ‘Dead Skin Mask’, et al.
‘Not Of This God’ is the album closer, another King surge of brutality which doesn’t let us down too much although reminds me heavily of Sepultura, via ‘Roots’, but by this point any true Slayer fan should be craving another two or three tracks, especially in the vein of the other Araya/Hanneman cuts. And more importantly, this album may have true Slayer fans believing again, and, as their heartbeat thuds like Lombardo’s revitalised drums, and the guitars whine like a flat line, Araya’s whispers, bellows and rasps leave us salivating for the first time since the early ‘90s. Amidst their own debris Slayer may rise like some charred, bloodied phoenix, and as we know, there’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal. If this is Slayer’s last record, it’s a good way to go, but if it isn’t, let’s hope the next instalment continues to rebuild a faith which I thought had disappeared long ago.
8/10
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