There was a point in Lamb of God’s Friday night show at which singer Randy Blythe put a pause on the incessant moshing and headbanging.
“Back up everyone,” the 48-year-old, dreadlocked basher said to fans. “Someone’s hurt, make room. If that was you on the floor you’d want people to make room for you, too.”
What followed was what felt like at 10 minutes of relative quiet as medics moved to the floor and extracted a fan with what was apparently a very gnarly injury (from the lawn, an ambulance could be seen rolling down the MidFlorida Credit Union Amphitheatre service road, lights on, as Lamb of God wrapped its set).
Blythe played the customer service card after the interruption and thanked the crowd for its willingness to take a breather.
“We appreciate your patience,” he added. “Y’all take care of each other out there — we’re all in this together.”
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The moment — in the shadow of all the unrelenting thrashing and militant double kick drum from the Richmond, Virginia-based band — did, in fact, feel familial, which made sense considering the occasion. Due onstage after Lamb of God was Slayer. The Grammy-winning California metal outfit is a pioneer of the thrash movement, and it arrived in Tampa as part of a nearly two-year farewell tour that started last summer. Over the course of its nearly 40-year career, Slayer has played across the globe time and again to countless fans, many of whom probably could barely understand the group's lyrics. Those disciples were drawn to the brutal, malevolent, snarling and almost impossibly fast output of a group that defined metal for at least two generations of hard-rock fans. More than 100 shows are scheduled worldwide before the farewell tour eventually wraps late this year or in early 2020.
In Tampa, 9,500 fans waited to say goodbye. About 90% of them wore black T-shirts adorned with the names of other bands that probably wouldn’t be the same if Slayer didn’t exist. Rob Zombie, Tool, Mortician, fellow Big Four metal band Anthrax, Five Finger Death Punch. There was even a service dog wearing its own battle vest adorned with band patches.
As a muggy sunset gave way to a purple-black sky illuminated by the occasional, off-in-the-distance lightning strike, Slayer took the stage and unleashed a nearly 90-minute onslaught of brutal riffs delivered with the merciless speed that’s been the hallmark of a dozen albums.
To the untrained ear, a lot of Slayer’s output can sound the same. Sure, it’s easy to pick up on the epic twin, hybrid, rhythm-lead guitar on “Mandatory Suicide,” Tom Araya’s ominous bass on “Gemini” and lock into the singalongs on “Disciple” and “Seasons in the Abyss,” but a lot of the nuance of reversed-vocal and strategically placed demonic reverb that’s kept fans coming back over the years can only be truly appreciated by metalheads who’ve grown up — and let their kids grow up — on Slayer and other bands of its ilk. It was much easier to be in awe of the pyro and devotion from the Slayer faithful all seemingly happy to follow this current lineup (Araya, founding guitarist Kerry King, longtime on-again-off-again drummer Pul Bostaph and guitarist Gary Holt (of Exodus), who joined in 2013) south of heaven to where hell awaits.
And Slayer’s version of hell probably wouldn’t be that bad if the Tampa fans that showed on Friday were there. Some wore ear protection. Others, like a few shirtless moshers, probably should’ve had protective mouthpieces in. Others, like a barely ambulatory toddler in a Batman shirt, ran around the venue lawn and doled out fivers before losing the shirt as the Slayer set wore on. Another topless, very sweaty gentlemen spent the time between sets genuinely checking on everyone on the lawn to make sure they were OK.
That family vibe was the black magic of Slayer on Friday night, and Araya — who a one point actually did take a second to jokingly ask the crowd if it was ready for some “family entertainment” — took at least five minutes after the encore-less set wrapped to take it all in. As Bostaph hurled drumsticks into the crowd, Holt flicked guitar picks into the pit. Araya stood at the edge of the stage and received gifts from fans. Some might’ve been seeing Slayer for the first time, and others wore shirts from tours of yore — all of them were at what was probably their last Slayer show ever.
“Thank you all, truly, so much,” Araya said as the house lights came on and his band disappeared. “I’m gonna miss you guys.”
By the looks of the fans who wouldn’t leave, Slayer Nation is going to miss him, too. Because, as we found out on Friday, an angel of death can still be the family guardian after all.
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This article appears in May 9-16, 2019.