'Yeah, sure. Why?'

'Because you are pealing off the wall's coat with your forhead, everything is in blood, and I'm quite sure that those teeth on the floor ain't mine...'

'Well, dude, d'ya see the earphones in my ears?'

 

Yep, SLAYER have come up with yet another slaughterfest. Bunch of neighbours came crawling to me on bleeding knees mumbling beggings of mercy. Sweeties, SLAYER are not a band, SLAYER are a religion and they don't do mercies. 

 

The album begins calmly in slayerish terms, meaning a combination of riffs that make you grasp the railings of the stadium and stretch your shoulders to clear space within the crowd. Matter of manners mostly - everybody just knows that it's going to get insane right now. 

 

And oh, surprise-surprise, it get insane: The first kick is Repentless. Then the punishment goes on with Take Control, Vices, Cast The First Stone, and so on, read the bloody songlist yourselves. SLAYER stomp everything on the way they thread themselves - no surprises, no mercy - only headstomping. The machine chops everything down - everything living, everything that ever lived, everything sort of alive, and everything that approached existence, no-one and nothing is spared.

 

Mentioning "machine" I should admit with mixed feelings that Jeff and Dave have been found proper replacements - Gary and Paul do fantastic job and I'm not quite sure how to feel about it but we have a 42 minites of total carnage, so I should be OK, right?

 

Music-wise things are what you can expect from what carries the SLAYER brand - no sappiness, no compromise, only savagery. Kerry still doesn't begin to grasp the meaning of "mercy" and Tom's voice hasn't changed a slight since your favourite album (and if your favourite album is not "all of 'em", there's a lousy Christmas in store for you, just sayin')

 

In conclusion - nothing: SLAYER cannot be concluded. Grading at 666, because no-one saw it coming }:->