There are metal legends and then there are metal gods: visionaries who drag their music into the deeper abyss, far beyond the point of no return. When the Los Angeles quartet Slayer formed in 1981, they did so with the purpose of pushing their new wave of British heavy metal influences to the very extremes.
Today they stand as the old gods of war, metal veterans with a near-religious cult of admirers the world over through their bludgeoning riffs, blastbeat rhythms and ominous tales of human cruelty.
Singer and bassist Tom Araya was born in Viña del Mar, Chile in 1961, where he lived before the family decided to relocate to the Californian suburbs in the mid-'60s.
His brother John introduced him to music and the pair began to jam together on a $20 Roebuck electric and a detuned acoustic with four strings. It didn't take long for the young bass player to realise his true calling in life.
“My first proper bass was a Paul McCartney Höfner rip-off that I bought in a pawnshop,” Araya told Bass Player in 2015. “I did two summers in a row in the school wood-shop making stands for money. After that I got myself a Precision.
“McCartney was my first hero. The Beatles, the Rolling Stones and ZZ Top were also my favourite bands. My brother and I would buy Deep Purple music books and learn the songs together. I'd look at the scale, write the notes out and match it up on the neck, That's how I learned to play music.”
The aspiring musician spent his school years as many do, simply enjoying the freedoms of young adulthood and contemplating the person he’d like to grow up to be.
“I was a stoner that hung out with the same two guys on a bench, where we'd watch the world go by. I wasn't part of the cool clique. I always had long hair, which I only cut once to visit Chile in 1971 when Pinochet was dictator, because we were told long hair could mean problems.”
In his late teens Araya met Kerry King, who replaced the guitarist in his top 40 list covers group. First impressions weren't particularly brilliant – Araya ended up getting kicked out of the band. But a year later, King was back in touch, needing a bassist for his new metal band, with a list of Black Sabbath, Judas Priest and Iron Maiden classics to learn.
By the end of a loud and beer-fuelled weekend, the bare bones of Slayer were in place: Araya, King, Hanneman and Lombardo. They debated the idea of recruiting a singer, but the bassist assured his bandmates that he had it covered.
By 1983, they'd inked a deal with LA label Metal Blade: Slayer's debut Show No Mercy was funded by Araya's earnings as a respiratory therapist and a loan from King's father. The follow-up, Hell Awaits, saw them continue to spread the satanic gospel, tales of Lucifer's wrath reinforced by the heaviness of their frenetic discordance. By Reign In Blood, they were simply unstoppable.
Furthermore, the albums that followed – 1988's South Of Heaven and in particular, 1990's career-peaking Seasons In The Abyss – cemented Slayer's stature as heavyweight champions of their peer group.
They may never have reached the dizzying heights that Metallica did, but that was never the plan. The name Slayer stood for something more extreme and uncompromising, something deadlier than any of their thrash counterparts. And that's precisely what they delivered. It's a time Araya remembers very fondly.
“The first two albums had more of a Venom influence, but when we first heard Reign In Blood, we couldn't believe it. We had no idea how it'd sound on record. That's when I started playing with a pick, to get more clarity and attack. Actually, a lot of it came down to producer Rick Rubin, who really cleaned up our sound.
“Funnily enough, it was Jeff that liked the bass solo parts on Psychopathy Red or the original bass intro on Piece By Piece, which came out too jumbled and indistinguishable to use in the end. But even though Reign In Blood is considered our classic album and the one everyone goes to, the one I'm most proud of is Seasons..., because I had such a big hand in writing the songs.”
As Slayer's legions continued to spread across the globe, so did the world of equipment available to the band. Before settling on ESP, Araya worked his way through a number of brands, although one factor remained consistent: simplicity. Too many features meant too many distractions.
“All I need is my volume knob – that's it. I used my P-Bass for a long time, then B.C. Rich offered to make me an instrument, as Kerry was working with them. I asked for the Wave bass, which they didn't make any more, but it was the one I liked so they dug out the pattern and made me one.
“Then the guy from Hill got in touch and they made me a great bass. But that was the extent of it: I didn't wanna endorse it, he just made it for me and I paid him.
“Later ESP approached me about a line of basses. I told them I wasn't an amazing player by any means. I'm average – I can play fast sometimes.”
The majority of Araya's bass tone comes from a Precision-style bass made by ESP, who’ve been making a TA signature series since the late ’90s, going into a Marshall Lemmy Kilmister Signature 1992 LEM Super Bass stack – the extremely limited edition 2008 replicas of the Motörhead man's favoured 1976 head.
“We were rehearsing for some live shows and I couldn't believe how good those amps sounded. Kerry told me they only made so many and then stopped making them. He even called up Marshall for me – but they were all gone.
“That amp is where most of my sound comes from, rather than the bass, though what you hear on the record might sometimes be a mixture of different amps dialled in together. It has that piano-like ‘dong!’ to it. That's the sound I like: clean and crisp with that low-end piano boom.”
For one of the most lauded and recognized musicians in metal, you get the impression that Araya has done well not to let things go to his head. He's disarmingly grounded and appreciative of how his career has panned out.
Most of all, he's warm and accommodating – the kind of person that instantly cracks jokes to put people at ease. When it comes to his own talents, the Slayer man is self-deprecating, in his own signature light-hearted way.
“I really don't think of myself as a bassist extraordinaire. That’s not me. I have to sing and play, so I have to cheat, because playing and singing at the same time is not easy.
“When we play Raining Blood live, there are parts where I just play an open E instead of the riff you hear on the record. Another part that's not easy is the main Angel Of Death riff while singing. I can't do that shit! I could do it in the studio, but live... let's just say no-one asks for their money back.
“A lot of Slayer riffs aren’t really for bass players – there’s a lot of notes. I'll learn the riff and if I think it’s too much for bass, I’ll play what I think sounds better. It's about how it grooves with the drummer. That's the most important thing to me.”
Thrash metal ushered some truly incredible bass players, from Metallica’s Cliff Burton – who tragically lost his life in a tourbus crash in 1986 – and Megadeth's David Ellefson to Testament's Greg Christian. But Araya felt no competition among his fellow four-stringers, at least from a technical standpoint.
“I’m more about the band than the players in the band, you know? Cliff Burton was a great bass player but Metallica, the band, were awesome. I’m not a schooled player. I'm self-taught and I have bad practicing habits, in that I don't bother! Kerry’s the only one of us that was schooled musically.
“I don’t warm up for vocals either: I don’t even hope for the best – I just go out and do it, which is a horrible example of how you should be as a singer!
“Someone told us we played in the devil’s scale which is all sharps and flats. I don't know anything about scales, but we looked it up and it does exist! That's how we came up with the title for Diabolus In Musica.”
It makes vou wonder: for someone that has lived and breathed heavy metal thunder through the decades, keeping the idea of sonic terror well and truly alive – does Araya find much time for other forms of music? What are the chances of him getting the jazz charts out on a rainy weekday night? Or sneaking in some funk jams while the family are out on a Sunday afternoon?
“I don't know if I can play funk, but sure, I'll listen to it. I love all kinds of music, to be honest. I'll slap a bass, but I don't really have the talent for it. I wish I did, because I think it's really cool when people use it well – Funkadelic, all that stuff.
“Just the other day I was listening to Paul Simon's Graceland. The song You Can Call Me Al has some wicked bass playing – what a riff.
“I love Joe Jackson's Jumpin' Jive, that's one of my favourite records, as is The Dream Of The Blue Turtles by Sting. My wife got me into Elvis: I listen to a lot of old country stuff because she grew up on that and I think a lot of it is really good.
“One of our favorites is Randy Travis, who's got this amazing voice, along with guys likes George Strait and Dwight Yoakam.”
When the metal gods of old finally hang their boots up, and the world no longer has Iron Maiden, Judas Priest and Slayer filling its arenas and festivals, who will be left to take charge?
“There are some good bands out there, but nothing that makes me go, ‘What the fuck is this?’ The one band that did do that for me was System of a Down.
“I remember being in the car and Rick Rubin handed me their three-track demo saying, ‘You gotta check these guys out!’ I put it in and thought, ‘Wow! This is metal – but the message and lyrics are also very cultural.’
“It really struck me and, along with the rhythms, made me think. I’ve never heard anything quite like it. But apart from that, there hasn't been much. I guess we're lucky in that sense. We’ve been around so long, we've established our sound. People instantly know when it's Slayer.”
