Slayer 66 2/3: The Jeff & Dave Years. A Metal Band Biography. (45 page)

In the fall, the band logged more airline miles with a handful of dates in New Zealand and Australia. In October, Slayer was forced to cancel an Adelaide show when Araya was afflicted with a bad case of laryngitis. Megadeth, still on board, played a full show to offset the cancelation.

In Japan, two headlining concerts and the Loudpark festival closed the light year. But by then, they were set up for a much bigger 2010.

All in all, Slayer was in fine shape on
World Painted Blood
. But in 2010, the band stumbled.

 Now 48, Tom Araya became the band’s first physical casualty when his ongoing back and neck pain became unendurable. The singer was living with a series of increasingly frequent spasms and alternating pain and numbness
^42-22
.

 In January 2010, Araya was diagnosed with a pinched nerve — cervical radiculopathy — and underwent anterior cervical discectomy surgery in January 2010. A tour scheduled for January and February was called off.

The frontman recovered relatively quickly. But the procedure robbed Slayer’s stage show of one of its signature moves: Arya’s 360
^o
 helicopter-style head banging. Still, the band continued. The band’s music and mere presence were still enough to whip up a cyclone in the audience.

Slayer was back on the road by May, headlining in the UK and Europe.

Click here to Google search “Slayer photos 2009”

Chapter 43:

Big Four, Big Year

By 2010, the world had caught up with Slayer. The phrase “The Big Four” was no longer strictly an underground legend.

As metal entered the second decade of its 21
^st
century revival, The Big Four now had more currency than ever. The world caught Big Four Fever. And for the first time, all four bands shared a concert stage: Anthrax, Megadeth, and Slayer, joined by the mighty Metallica.

In late 2008, a big rumor was in the air: The Big Four would join together and tour the world, in the ultimate metal tour. Initially, Metallica’s Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield denied it. So, of course, it happened.

"I think it was certainly spurred on by the Rock and Roll  Hall of Fame [induction] and getting all these great, nostalgic feelings, you know,” Hetfield told The Pulse of Radio. “And, you know, the more we thought about — 'Hey, you know what? We should celebrate the Bay Area thrash scene. Why don't we make a reunion of that or something?' And it basically morphed into, you know, the Big Four doing a gig together, and how cool that would be…. I think it would be a great celebration of the past and where we are now in our lives.”
^43-1

The bands all had common roots. They had hung out as pimply teenagers during visits to the New York Tri-State area. Most had been continuously active since the metal heydays that abruptly ended in the early 1990s.

A small but vocal contingent of metal fans go into conniptions at the mention of the phrase “Big Four.” They argue the term excludes some worthy bands who all kicked ass on a comparable level. Groups like Overkill, Testament, Exodus, Kreator, Celtic Frost, _________________________ [insert your favorite here so you feel included], etc. — they all deserve consideration in any discussion of the era’s great metal bands.

But consider the word “big” and its applicable metrics: The Big Four sold more albums, headlined larger venues, and were more visible. Add hall-of-fame acts Exodus, Overkill, and Testament, and the group becomes The Significant Seven. But “big” doesn’t mean “awesome outfit that kicked ass and they’re my favorite.” The Big Four are…

The Most Fun Big Four Band: Anthrax

Anthrax simply couldn’t be stopped, and they kept going, passing up every opportunity to quit.

The other Big Four bands dealt in the murderous, macabre and mythic. Anthrax’s well-rounded subject matter included Native American rights, Stephen King stories, and comic books.

The band’s 1987
Among the Living
was late in the batch of circa-’86 Big Four masterpieces. By then, guitarist Scott Ian and drummer Charlie Benante had already done more than their share to spark the crossover movement, with the 1985 self-titled debut of their great and infamous side project, Stormtroopers of Death/S.O.D.

In 1991, Anthrax collaborated with Public Enemy on a cover of the Def Jam group’s classic “Bring the Noise.” The single sparked rap metal, one of the bigger hard rock movements of the subsequent decade. Wearing T-shirts and colorful shorts, they played arenas with Public Enemy in tow.

“To me, Anthrax was always a quirky band,” King said in 2003, talking thrash for an interview about classic metal. “They were always two steps away from goofy, but they had heavy tracks, as well. They were always like your little brother’s band.”

Before long, Anthrax rebooted with former Armored Saint singer John Bush — another Metal Blade alumnus — for 1993’s
The Sound of White Noise
. The excellent album found the band drifting back toward its hard rock roots, but with crushing metallic intent.

By the end of the ‘90s, Anthrax was back in clubs, too. King mocked the band when it adopted a pentagram logo for 2003’s
We’ve Come for You All
, another rock-y album that was well-received by fans, but failed to find a crossover audience.

(That album’s star-crossed fortunes were partially due to an odd PR strategy: Fearing the ubiquitous threat of illegal downloads, the Sanctuary label declined to mass-issue the full album. Instead, they sent out a sampler of a few songs. Critics were left without ready access to the alleged good record they were hearing about.)

The band eventually took back its old singer, Joey Belladonna, and reunited its classic 80s lineup. The tour didn’t do gangbusters business, but it brought in some badly needed dough.

“The [reunion] touring got this band out of a huge financial hole,” guitarist Scott Ian said in an online chat with the band’s fan club in 2007
^43-2.

More schisms followed. Anthrax reunited with former singer Bush. Then they found a new singer (Dan Nelson) and weathered more lineup changes.
Then
they reunited with Belladonna and returned to acclaim in the world of metal — but that is another story.

Playing to bouncy mosh beats, Anthrax was the most fun Big Four band. The group wrote songs that were anti-drug, pro-Native American, and often based in sci-fi/fantasy/horror. 1993’s “Black Lodge” is a ballad with some balls. The Belladonna reunion album lacks the spark from the band’s early days, but the band convincingly rock out on it; Blabbermouth and its readers both rate it an 8.5 out of a possible 10
^43-3
.

Between its first album and 2013, Anthrax has had 14 different members. As of June 20, 2013 — shortly before the website launched a new format that doesn’t count articles — Blabbermouth’s archive contained 4,880 references to the group.

The Most Technical Big Four Band: Megadeth

Megadeth — the band Kerry King had played with briefly in its infancy — had died and been reanimated.

To King, Mustaine’s decision to front the band was an act of hubris that damned the group from its inception. I asked him who would have been a better choice as a vocalist.

“I don’t know,” King said. “There’s a thousand singers. I’ve just never been a fan of his voice.”

The group peaked with 1990’s
Rust in Peace
, one of the gnarliest guitar albums in history. In the 1990s, the band might have overtaken Metallica as a leading metal force, but mainman Dave Mustaine instead tried to chase his old band’s commercial success, by making tame, lackluster records.

 “He saw the greenbacks,” said King, who has a special contempt for musicians who start worrying about success instead of art. “That’s a hard demon to keep off your shoulder. The sucker’s knocking every record: ‘Hey, wanna sell out, make some money?’ We never even thought about it.”

The 1990s commercial period wasn’t the end of Megadeth. At their peak, Megadeth were metalhead musos, the Big Four’s most technical players, standing tall as the apex of the jazz-blues hybrid that Black Sabbath pioneered. On early albums, Mustaine penned bloody narratives and sociopolitical screeds.

Then, as journalist Jason Bracelin observed in
Blender
, "Mustaine found God and lost his mind on increasingly silly albums (
Youthanasia
,
Cryptic Writings
) with inadvertently self-parodying songs (‘She-Wolf,’ anyone?)."
^43-4

Megadeth limped on into the new century.

In 2002, Mustaine was in rehab again. There, he injured his left arm, leaving him unable to play his intricate material. He disbanded the group, but it didn’t take. A new solo project turned into a Megadeth album, and the brand was back in business in 2004.

With Mustaine leading the outfit and playing rhythm guitar, Megadeth continued recording albums that invoked a curious phenomenon that’s common in arts criticism: The discs were always received well — then immediately discounted and retroactively dismissed. Despite a constantly rotating lineup, Megadeth emerged as the most prolific Big Four band, with 14 original studio albums (as of this writing).

Between its first album and 2013, Megadeth has had 14 new members. Blabbermouth references, as of June 20, 2013: 7,932 — more than Slayer, but Dave Mustaine says more remarkably inane stuff than anybody in Slayer.

The Most Pure Big Four Band: Slayer

“
Reign in Blood
is the thrashiest thrash ever.” — Joe Gross,
Spin
magazine, 2007
^43-5

Blabbermouth references as of June 20, 2013: 6,745.

New members since their first album: 4.

The Biggest Big Four Band: Metallica

“Metallica, in the early days, they couldn’t be touched,” King said. “Hetfield could relate to anybody in the crowd, and they couldn’t be touched.”

And it stayed that way. By 2010, the first-ballot Hall of Fame inductee had long been a mainstream phenomenon, not just the most popular band in the history of metal, but one of the most popular rock groups in history, period.

As of December 2012, 1991’s self-titled “Black Album” had sold 16 million copies, placing the thrash pioneers in the elite company of the Eagles, Hootie & the Blowfish, Alanis Morissette, and Elton John — and just above Pink Floyd’s
Dark Side of the Moon
, but slightly behind Boston, Guns N’ Roses, and
The Bodyguard Soundtrack
. Only 10 albums have moved more copies
^43-6
. It still routinely outsells first-week new releases by major hard-rock acts.

In 1991, Metallica played one of the largest concerts in history, taking the stage in front of 500,000 fans at Russia’s Monsters of Rock festival. (The show’s total crowd is estimated at over 1.6 million fans, for a bill that included AC/DC and Pantera.) The group’s level of stardom remained high, but as is often the case, their currency remained rooted in past glories. The band’s much-maligned WTF? period during the 1990s saw the band flailing ineptly at a raw rock style. Then they recorded the 1999 live album
S&M
with a symphony. (King slagged it as “masturbation.”
^43-7
)

Metallica gradually returned to form, as documented in the prescient reality movie
Some Kind of Monster
. That inside-job documentary chronicled the making of 2004’s
St. Anger
, an album that played like demos for a promising record. In that period, longtime bassist Jason Newsted quit the  band. Metallica replaced him with Rob Trujillo, who had some hardcore cred, having joined Suicidal Tendencies in the late ’90s.

Then Metallica tapped Rick Rubin to produce 2008’s
Death Magnetic
, a self-imitating pastiche that satisfied more old-school diehards than anything the band had done in nearly 20 years. This return to basics would yield a massive world tour decorated with black beach balls. And the band ultimately filmed a theatrical-release movie with concert foot intercut with a conceptual narrative,
Through the Never
. The $18 million big-screen project signified the band’s status on a tier with Led Zeppelin. Not to mention its considerably longer career: 30+ continuous years to Zeppelin’s 12.

That period did put Metallica back in touch with thrash. Through their career as megastars, the group has been one of the few arena acts to continuously rethink and refine the experience of an arena concert. But over the years, the songs — 
oooof, the songs
— have not  improved.

Between their 1983 debut — with the then-outrageous title
Kill ‘Em All
— and
Death Magnetic
leftovers, Metallica’s lyrics steadily devolved. The band’s second album featured their first ballad, but balanced it with the  mytho-historical, movie-based song “Creeping Death” — its “Die/Die/Die” refrain is the greatest concert singalong ever.
Master of Puppets
is arguably a perfect album. But by the fourth record,
…And Justice for All
, the references to bloody parts of
The Ten Commandments
have given way to
The Wizard of Oz
(in “The Frayed Ends of Sanity”).