Festival Review: Slayer at Finsbury Park: Fire, Fury, and a 9:30 Finish
In a weekend where Oasis returned to the stage in Cardiff after a 16 year hiatus that many people thought would never end; Ozzy Osbourne and Black Sabbath said goodbye in Birmingham for the very last time with 5 million viewers streaming online like it was the Live Aid of heavy metal, and Fontaines D.C. headlined their biggest ever show cementing them as the most iconic indie band of their generation, you could be forgiven for missing that Slayer. Slayer, the most ferocious thrash band of all time, also quietly came out of retirement to make sure the loudest weekend of the British summer ended not just with a bang, but a seismic blast.
Finsbury Park, one of London’s most iconic outdoor festival locations, has seen plenty over the years: the lithe anarchy of Rage Against the Machine, the baggy-breasted indie reveries of Pulp, and the full designer masses vaping with style at the park’s signature Wireless Festival (which this year is being headlined on all three nights by Drake). But on this particular Sunday, the weather was biblical and the crowd was similarly devout, as they streamed in for a second coming no one had planned for.
Slayer retired very publicly in 2019, but rather than some joyless cash-in, the reappearance seemed more a case of the stars aligning. They were invited by Ozzy Osbourne to perform a day earlier at his farewell show, an honour and duty in of itself, so you could guess it just felt like a good idea to tack on something extra whilst in the country. There’s no wider tour or return to making music – this really is a one off encore.
Not that the Californian band made any special occasion of it. Following afternoon performances from grooving Atlanta rockers Mastodon, and purified-80s-in-a-bottle headbangers Anthrax, Slayer’s set was streamlined, unsentimental, and genuinely terrifying. Despite occasional downpours throughout the day, the band made use of another powerful element – Fire. Flames from every orifice going, at almost all moments, throughout the show. The mounting pyromania ground itself up with the sonic assault, leaving you with the sense that this was more of ‘immersive experience’ than a rock show. Singer Tom Araya commented mid-way thought “I can tell which of you have never seen us before, as you’re the ones still stood there in shock.”
Guitarist Kerry King, now bald as a cannonball, led with the precision of a bored executioner. “South of Heaven,” “Disciple,” and “War Ensemble” were dispatched with such blistering ferocity that even the security staff looked nervous. With nonstop fire and fury, by the time they reach “Raining Blood” and “Angel Of Death” – just riff after pulverising riff, tight as a pressure headache, they’ve let everyone know: We’re still heavier than everyone else. The only momentary change in pace came when they incorporate a cover of Black Sabbath’s Wicked World, reprised from their performance with Ozzy a day earlier. By comparison it sounded like a yoga meditation.
Moments after they’ve left the stage, a festival announcement over the PA reminded everyone to get home safely and be sure to avoid overcrowding on the tube. Having just survived a sonic apocalypse, the Victoria line felt like amateurs work.
The festival experience at Finsbury Park is, in many ways, a gold standard for inner-city gigs. The gentle slope of the park means you get a clear sightline to the stage even from the perimeter, and the PA is impressively crisp throughout. Slayer’s sound – dense, sharp, borderline punitive – was delivered with immaculate clarity, no matter how far back you stood clutching your overpriced lager.
VIP upgrades at festivals are often a scam with a lanyard, but if you do choose to go for it, there’s some value to be had. The VIP village features a mock British pub piping in audio from the main stage, a broad range of food options you won’t find elsewhere onsite, much nicer toilets (a rare luxury), and plenty of shaded seating that’s actually comfortable. Best of all, the VIP entrance leads you straight into the thick of it. No twenty-minute hikes from the chill zone to the chaos.
Food and drink across the wider site was standard festival fare: chips, burgers, curries, and caffeine in paper cups. But it neatly avoided the sort of limp, microwaved misery you find at some other large-scale events. Prices were London-high but not criminal.
One notable quirk: with this being a Sunday show, the event wrapped up by 9:30pm sharp. A mercy for some, a mood-killer for others. But considering you’re still in the middle of a major city, being able to rage through “Postmortem” and still make it home by 11pm is an oddly grown-up kind of decadence.
With over 250,000 people attending major gigs in the UK this weekend alone, and ticket demand up 40% on 2023, the return of mega-concerts isn’t just a trend, it’s a national pastime. The city is alive with them. From All Points East to BST Hyde Park, to impromptu buskers pulling festival spillover to Camden Lock, music tourism in London is in rude, deafening health.
If you’re visiting the capital this summer and want more than selfies with Beefeaters, a day at a London park gig is essential.
You won’t understand the city until you’ve watched a man dressed as Satan order a pint while someone’s nan queues for vegan loaded fries next to him. Slayer may have been loud, brutal, and mildly traumatic, yet somehow it was still the most civilised Sunday I’ve had in months.
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