When Slayer began their first real tour of the UK in April 1987, thrash was barely out of its infancy. For the average rock fan at least, the jury remained out on a style of music that naysayers considered a flash in the pan or just plain unmusical.
Compared to their peers and rivals Metallica, Megadeth and Anthrax, there seemed something different about Slayer. They felt just a little more edgy, and a bit less cartoonish. Were they really Devil-worshippers? No one knew for sure, and few dared to ask.
Although the Californians’ third full-length, the Rick Rubin-produced Reign In Blood, was their most complete statement so far, distributors of Def Jam Records declined to release it as its opening track, Angel Of Death, was inspired by the Auschwitz concentration camp butcher Josef Mengele.
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Slayer’s attitude was simple: Reign In Blood is art, and if you don’t want to put it out, it’s your loss. They found another distributor. The controversy only heightened an increasing sense of notoriety, though zero fucks were given when people began branding them as Nazis. “If you’re afraid of words then you’re a fucking idiot,” reasoned guitarist Kerry King.

Prior to Reign In Blood, Slayer had played the UK just once – a sold-out show in June 1985 at London’s Marquee Club in support of Hell Awaits attended by metalheads, punks and assorted outcasts who spat on them as they performed. Reviewers did likewise, though only in print, but in the summer of 1985 Slayer were considered a joke.
The 28 minutes and 58 seconds of unbridled ferocity known as Reign In Blood changed everything, and in ’87, over the Easter weekend – what perfect timing! – they returned to Britain for a handful of shows as part of their Reign In Pain European tour. For most of us, this was a first chance to experience Slayer in the crawling, decaying flesh.
Hammer was invited to spend a few days on the road with the band. On their first trip, the foursome had had to drive and navigate around the UK. Though their fortunes were on the rise this time, there was no luxury Nightliner tourbus, just a simple van fitted with bucket seats to accommodate the guys and a tour manager, Rick Sales. Besides yours truly and photographer Tony Mottram, there was an additional passenger. And her presence was controversial.

Dave Lombardo was Slayer’s not-so-secret weapon. His powerful, versatile drumming was the cornerstone of their sound. And yet in the early stages of the US leg of the Reign In Pain tour, he had quit, to be replaced by Tony ‘TJ’ Scaglione of Whiplash.
Are you guys into dead fucks? That’s OK, I’m into dead fucks too.
Tom Araya
When things didn’t work out as they’d hoped, Dave was asked – quite probably begged – to reconsider his decision. The answer was a tentative ‘yes’, but there were provisos. In stark contravention of one of the key rules of a touring rock band, Dave wanted his wife, Teresa, to accompany him as he worked. And being broke, Dave demanded his rent and utility bills should be paid for him. Reluctantly, especially on the former point, Slayer caved in.
On the tour things seemed a little tense. Dave and Teresa sat in the back of the bus, talking in low voices and gazing into one another’s eyes. Another part of the deal that triggered his return was that the Lombardos received their own dressing room wherever possible.

Though they mellowed a little as the years rolled by, Slayer have never been a band to gratefully welcome outsiders into their midst, and even then they seemed a little standoffish. When I asked Kerry why Dave was back (which, given his close proximity, now seems insensitive), he growled: “Because he wanted to play.”
So what happened to TJ Scaglione? “He just didn’t work out. He’s a great drummer but Dave’s family.”
And was Dave back in Slayer for good this time? “I’m not sure,” he hedged his bets. “We’ll have to see.”
Bassist/frontman Tom Araya sat in the front seat fooling around with his latest toy, a video camera, and as the miles towards Manchester ticked away the van rocked to the sound of Electric by The Cult. Copies of Hammer were circulated and read in a companionable silence until Kerry reached the live reviews and shattered the peace with a roar of “MEGADETH SUCKS!” upon discovering a critique of Mustaine and co. at London’s Hammersmith Odeon. Two years earlier Kerry had, of course, joined Megadeth but lasted a mere five shows before returning to Slayer. The move would inspire one of many feuds to involve the outspoken guitarist.

Though their show at the Apollo was far from sold out, the van was greeted in Manchester by a sea of autograph-seeking fans. A soundcheck revealed Slayer’s old-school metal roots via ramshackle versions of Symptom Of The Universe by Black Sabbath, the Scorpions’ The Zoo and the Judas Priest classics Victim Of Changes, Heading Out To The Highway and Breaking The Law. But Dave Lombardo remained in a private dressing room with his missus while Kerry and fellow guitarist Jeff Hanneman played the drums.
Is Dave Lombardo back in Slayer for good? I’m not sure. We’ll have to see.
Kerry King
The evening’s performance, which all but one song from Reign In Blood (Piece By Piece being its sole omission), was among the finest metal gigs ever witnessed by this writer. Kerry and Jeff, the latter of whom had kept himself to himself on the journey, flayed the skin with their scintillating lead guitar runs and Dave’s rhythmic contribution was extraordinary, his blur of feet and sticks causing the now rather silly prediction from this writer: “Lars Ulrich had better watch his arse in the next set of readers’ polls.”
At the centre of it all was Tom. Earlier in the day the frontman had seemed quietly spoken and comparatively meek, but at the Apollo he evolved into a dark and genuinely frightening character. Introducing Necrophiliac, Tom’s face took on a gleeful grin while asking the Manchester crowd: “Are you guys into dead fucks?” There was a massive roar. “That’s OK, I’m into dead fucks too. You know what I like best about these little ladies that live six feet underground? Every time I eat them out I can hear the maggots crunching in my teeth.”
Given that Tom would later own up to Christian beliefs, such a statement was as shocking as the transformation that took place as he strode from the wings into the spotlight. Years later in another interview, he told me: “I’m a very laidback guy, that stage persona is just a part of me. It’s like a switch that goes on and off.”

Of course, these were early days for Slayer. Over the years Dave would come and go, exiting the band for the final time in 2013, but they got by without him and outlived every passing fad.
“Why would we try to be like Korn?” Kerry laughed when I interviewed him again in 2002. “Why would anybody who likes metal want to play that stuff? It fucking sucks.”
Tragically, Jeff Hanneman died in 2013, but Slayer continued with Exodus’ Gary Holt in his place. In 2018, they announced their decision to retire, wrapping up their farewell tour the following year – only to make a surprising return in 2024.
2026 will see the band play a pair of shows in Los Angeles to mark the 40th anniversary of Reign In Blood. Presumably, they’ll be travelling to the gig in something more than a van this time.
Originally published in Metal Hammer issue 329 (Nov 2019). Updated April 2026





