Slayer 66 2/3: The Jeff & Dave Years. A Metal Band Biography. (48 page)

After more than 30 intermittent years in the game, Holt was playing with the kings of metal.

“Gary’s part of the family,” says Goodman. “He’s the perfect replacement. Anybody from a more recent band would be a fan, where Gary never wanted to be in Slayer, [was] never thinking he was in Slayer — he was filling in for his buddy, Jeff. He was going to be in their dressing room, drinking their beer anyway. He might as well play.”

After Hanneman died, the Slayer organization held a public memorial. The band’s management read a statement from his widow, Kathryn, in which she remembered her husband learning about Holt replacing him. Her note described Hanneman responding to the news with an enthusiastic “Fuck yeah!”

A month later,
Guitar World
revealed that “Fuck yeah!” was actually just one of Hanneman’s responses — after
Fuck no!

“I remember when the tour came up,” Kathryn told Kitts. “Jeff said to me, ‘No. No. There’s no way in hell this band is going on without me. He was definitely hurt… but eventually, he became okay with it, and a lot of that was because it was his friend Gary that was going to fill in for him. He knew the band had to go on.”
^47-21

Click here to Google search “Slayer photos 2011”

Chapter 48:

Slayer Without Hanneman

 February 26, 2011. Slayer played their first show in its 29-year history without Jeff Hanneman.

The show took place in Australia, at Brisbane’s RNA Showground’s. (Two years later, the Brisbane venue would see the live debut of another Slayer lineup.)

With Hanneman in an American hospital and Slayer on the other side of the world, the new lineup took the stage in daylight, highlighted by red floods. With shoulder-length hair and a Schecter V-body guitar, Holt fit in just short of seamlessly, his signature buzzing guitar tone modulated closer to Hanneman’s shrieking sound. Toward the set’s end, Holt’s style was most conspicuous — though not out of place — in the guitar harmonies at the beginning of “Raining Blood.”

The set list was a standard Slayer festival show, with new tunes — including the live debut of “Americon” — and deep cuts:

1. “World Painted Blood”

2. “Hate Worldwide”

3. “War Ensemble”

4. “Postmortem”

5. “Hallowed Point”

6. “Americon”

7. “Payback”

8. “Mandatory Suicide”

9. “Temptation”

10. “South of Heaven”

11. “Raining Blood”

12. “Black Magic”

13. “Angel of Death”

King stayed mobile through the show, putting his body into headbanging. Araya stood rooted front and center, but his feral sound and tense stance suggested he might leap into the crowd at any minute.

Lombardo punished his kit through “Angel of Death,” and the concert was over. Slayer had done it. Without their co-founder, the band had put on a good show.

Then it wasn’t long before Slayer, after never changing guitarists in nearly 30 years, added a second replacement player.

In April, Exodus was scheduled to open a stadium show for Iron Maiden in South America. Faced with the awesome Exodus opportunity, Holt had to step away from his Slayer gig. Pat O’Brien, guitarist of death metal cult heroes Cannibal Corpse, filled in for seven European shows that month.

O’Brien was so determined to nail the gigs that he sometimes skipped the hotel and just stayed in the dressing room, practicing and steeling himself for the show.

Lombardo thought O’Brien handled the gig well.

“Pat was nervous,”  Lombardo said to Austrian metal site Stormbringer.at. “He was very, very nervous. But he did such a great job. He worked so hard. He only had... five or six days [to practice]. He flew in and he immediately went to work in the dressing room. I feel he nailed it. He did everything perfect."
^48-1

But the shredder was a temporary replacement for the replacement. The group sounded fine. O’Brien capably emulated Hanneman’s tone and style. But Holt was back in the lineup as soon as possible. As, said the band, Hanneman would be.

“Hanneman has amazed his doctors with his speedy recovery from an infection thought to have been caused by a spider bite,” noted Slayer in the replacement–replacement announcement that arrived March 30, 2011. “Following surgery on his right arm, he continues his physical therapy and has already been practicing with his guitar.”
^48-2

A year later, Slayer’s May 2012 statement filled in some crucial details they omitted at the time. Two months after his surgery, Hanneman was still in the hospital, dosed with strong antibiotics, undergoing painful skin graft surgeries and recovering at a pace that was encouraging, but maddeningly slow
^48-3
.

Soon, though, Hanneman was back on stage with the band. It looked like his absence would be brief. 

Chapter 49:

The Big Four, Part II

One of the biggest metal shows in American history ended with Jeff Hanneman taking the stage and performing with Slayer for a final time.

The first US Big Four concert took place April 23, 2011, at the Empire Polo Club in Indio, California, the site of the renowned Coachella festival. (It was 28 years to the day after the show when Hanneman met Kathryn.)

“I prefer to call it ‘The Slayer show that Metallica closed,’” offers Doug Goodman, Slayer’s old tour manager, who was backstage for the monumental occasion.

Going into the show, fans expected another set with Holt. And they got one.

But Slayer had some surprises up their sleeves.

In the weeks leading up to the show, Hanneman had been practicing with the band. The band were rehearsing four songs with its original guitarist, who was still far from full recuperation.

The group still hadn’t revealed the extent of Hanneman’s condition. Knowing what they knew, they were glad he could play at all. The fact he could even take the stage was inspiring.

A year later, when the band shared the full details of Hanneman’s condition immediately following the surgery, fans would find out just how hard Hanneman had to work to step on the stage: After the physical ordeals of the surgeries, the coma, the recovery process, and the ongoing rehab, Hanneman didn’t just have to learn how to play again. Following the medically necessary body horrors, Hanneman could not even
walk
. When he was well enough to get out of bed, he had to learn to balance and put one foot in front of the other
^49-1
.

Once he could walk, Hanneman tried to get his arms to work their magic again. But as the landmark California concert approached, the tunes weren’t shaping up.

The day of the show, King made the call: Hanneman’s playing was not up to snuff. His cameo was cut short, from four songs to two.

“I said, 'Dude, don't show anybody your weakness right now,’” King revealed to Nikki Blakk  of radio show
Metal Zone
a year later. “People are gonna be stoked to see it. If you go up there for four songs, people are gonna start focusing on you, and they're gonna see that you're not playing that good. Do yourself a favor: Do two songs, have your big fucking moment, and leave it at that."

Hanneman did have his final moment. As Anthrax and Megadeth played their sets, Hanneman geared up in the dressing room. Even friends who were close enough to score backstage passes were surprised to find Hanneman on hand.

Slayer played their usual set with Holt:

1. “World Painted Blood”

2. “Hate Worldwide”

3. “War Ensemble”

4. “Postmortem”

5. “Raining Blood”

6. “Black Magic”

7. “Dead Skin Mask”

8. “Silent Scream”

9. “The Antichrist”

10. “Americon

11. “Payback”

12. “Seasons in the Abyss”

13. “Snuff”

And Holt didn’t return for the encore.

Behind a wall of Marshalls, Hanneman snuck toward the stage, his gait askew. He looked ten years older than he had a year ago. Now his skin was wrinkled, nose swollen, hair longer than ever, goatee and head blended blond and gray. Weakened and damaged, he was still dressed for war. He wore his customary hockey pads on his shins, the black armor that matched the rest of his outfit.

The baroque intro of “South of Heaven” echoed over the crowd. Green and white lights washed over the stage. The crowd roared and surged.

Lombardo walked up to the kit, black ballcap on backward.

King entered from stage left.

Hanneman stood just off the stage, waiting to go on, wearing a black long-sleeve over his scars, scared to show his damage. Then he decided: After a near-death experience and a long walk back, he wasn’t about to turn shy.

“Fuck it,” said Hanneman.

He tore the right sleeve off his shirt, revealing the long, thick lines of pink scar tissue on his pale white arm. And he strolled onto the stage, right hand raised defiantly.

At the same time, next to Hanneman, Araya drifted on from the stage right. The crowd was loud, and they roared more when they realized the second guitarist wasn’t Holt. It was Hanneman. He was back.

The short, unannounced appearance barely lasted ten minutes, for “South of Heaven” and “Angel of Death.”

Several photographers were on hand for the concert, but the best pictures came from Andrew Stuart, the official photographer of the Rick Sales Entertainment Group. With unrestricted access, the ace hovered at the back of the stage and captured one last unforgettable image of Hanneman in performing: Back turned to the crowd, altered arm exposed, Hanneman strums his customized black ESP guitar, standing in the wash from a white spotlight. The crowd is invisible in a swath of darkness. Behind the guitarist, colored lights dot the horizon. A wisp of red smoke surrounds Hanneman. Casting a long shadow toward the camera, he looks like he’s on a platform, hovering above the world.

On videos from the show, Hanneman’s fingers are moving fast, and he’s not just pretending to play. No question the performance was a tough one. Later, in a frank appraisal, King said it wasn’t exactly a triumphant return.

"He wasn't ready for that,” King told Blakk. “I think we all thought that that might jumpstart him and get him going down a more hardcore road to recovery, but he wasn't ready for that.”

Nobody knew it at the time, but Hanneman would never appear onstage with Slayer again.

The Big Four roadshow continued, playing three more European festivals (two of them Sonisphere shows). Then that chapter of metal history ended with a show at New York City’s new Yankee Stadium, September 14, 2011.

For generations of metal fans, the shows were a nice commemorative event. Reviews were mixed. Plenty of fans felt they were worth a $100 ticket, and they walked away happy on general principle, having seen all Big Four bands in a single sitting.

Professional metalheads had seen the bands many times before, long ago, and were not blown away. Metal Sucks “live-snarked” the event and had the best time during Slayer’s set:

“With Araya unable to headbang, Lombardo obviously being tied to the drums, and Holt really being a guest, this has become the Kerry King show,” noted Axl Rosenberg. “I’ve never seen him move around so much on stage before. It’s like they gave him cocaine right before he went on…. ‘Dead Skin Mask’… There are three-four good sized pits in the [general admission] section, but the fact that the entire crowd isn’t trying to kill each other is a little disappointing. Especially since, at least based on how [many] people earlier claimed to be seeing Anthrax live for the first time, I’m assuming it’s mostly young folks in there.”
^49-5

Even the
New York Times
covered the event. The venerable institution called it down the middle and declared Slayer the winner:

“Metallica’s two-hour-plus set earned its top billing, with lasers, flash pots and fireworks; every member of the band performed proprietary stage prances, individual solos and strategic crowd pumping. After 30 years they’re good at this,” wrote Ben Ratliff. “[Anthrax have] always been lower-key than their California counterparts, the opposite of how these things usually play out in American music, and they used their easy disposition to their advantage…. Whether the problem was his neck or something else, there was a sense of distance in [Mustaine’s] performance. He didn’t get all the way in. Slayer did, though…. For a memorable 40 minutes or so Yankee Stadium became a dark and contemplative place…. Rhythmically it swung, unlike Metallica, whose rhythm often grew unstable and plodding, especially in its recent songs.”
^49-6

In the two American concerts, thrash metal’s combined might generated $10 million at the gate alone — a  big net take, but apparently not enough for anyone to retire
^49-7
.

Chapter 50:

New Year, No Album

Without Hanneman, Slayer had kept busy steadily from February through September 2011, but still only played around 60 shows. As the buzzer rang on the year, Hanneman was still on the injured reserve.