Blindspotting: Slayer, "Reign in Blood"

The Legacy: Slayer came screaming out of South Central L.A. in 1981, honing their nascent metal chops by performing covers for a couple of years before catching the ear of Metal Blade founder Brian Slagel, who signed them in 1983. Although their first few releases sold small numbers by mainstream standards, they represented steadily building momentum for an act whose high-volume assault on eardrums and tender sensibilities never really seemed destined to produce gold and platinum certifications.

That all changed with 1986's Reign in Blood, which not only pivoted away from the somewhat progressive overtones of its predecessor (1985's Hell Awaits), but saw the group hooking up with producer Rick Rubin, who lured Slayer away from Metal Blade for a deal with Def Jam. Rubin's commercial instincts were never going to turn Slayer into pop stars, but he was still able to steer them toward more tightly written songs, delivered with cleaner production. As a result, Reign became the band's top-selling album to that point, peaking at No. 94 on the Billboard Top 200 Albums chart — and more importantly for their career over the long term, it also established them as some of the thrashiest thrashers who ever thrashed. They'd go on to greater commercial success with subsequent releases, but Reign in Blood is the early masterpiece that made it all possible, and it remains a touchstone for any artist hoping to flay the minds and souls of men with a molten metal attack.

First Impressions: Rubin has become a bit of a joke for a lot of people over the years, and for some very good reasons, but his masterstroke here was his decision to forego reverb, cutting Reign in Blood more or less like a live performance. With separation between the instruments, Slayer's whole deal makes a lot more sense — instead of a great big gob of noise, you can hear what everyone's doing, and appreciate the degree of difficulty it represented. (Even if you belong to the school of thought that says playing fast isn't all that musically impressive, I think we can all at least agree that cutting these tracks had to have been a phenomenal workout. Every member of Slayer should have had body fat percentages in the low single digits.)

Still, even if I can stand back and appreciate this record as a cleanly recorded snapshot of Slayer in 1986, that doesn't mean I can understand listening to Reign in Blood for pleasure. I've read stuff about Slayer's developing melodic sensibilities during this era, but that's all lost on me — while the music certainly boasts plenty of power, even after listening to the album half a dozen times, I couldn't identify a single song just by hearing it. The whole thing hits like one extended expression of rage.

Which is, of course, the point. And if I think about it purely on those terms, then it isn't hard to see Reign in Blood as a sort of tinnitus-inducing prophecy — not that people didn't have plenty to be pissed off about in '86, but we, as a nation, are currently living through a season of rage. Any demographic with any amount of real sociopolitical currency is currently trying to cash it in as a means of thwarting someone else's desperate dream; we're all furious with each other, and our most vulnerable fellow human beings are bearing the brunt. As they always do. As this country has forever insisted that they must.

In 1986, it was easier to regard something like Reign in Blood as a sort of musical cosplay for people who wanted to piss off their neighbors and indulge in Satanic imagery. It was easier to listen to a song like "Postmortem" and wonder what the fuck the band was thinking when they wrote it, as well as how it could provide any sane person with genuine listening pleasure. But in 2025, Reign in Blood might be the only music that really makes sense: It does not seek to entertain, to comfort. It's got some great beats, but you can't really dance to them (at least not unless you're in a mosh pit). It's utilitarian in its way — no frills, just a brutally effective delivery mechanism for fury.

And what could be more American right now? Whether you believe in a diverse, equitable, and inclusive society, or you dream of being part of a global superpower dedicated to inflicting misery and death on people around the world, there's so much to be angry about, and this record is a terrific soundtrack for it. In fact, I don't know if I've ever heard an album more perfectly suited to a country that keeps voting for its own destruction. Turn it up loud and roll up your sleeves; whatever comes next is bound to be even uglier than this.

Favorite Song: The one with the screaming and the aggro guitars and the drumbeat that sounds like a hummingbird's pulse after snorting cocaine.