slayer rotting christ suicidal angels leprous

a visual diary


By Chelf


When it’s time to say goodbye there’s not much else to say.

You surround yourself with the crème de la crème of the scene and you make it count.



Suicidal Angels opened the show.

Local heroes. They know how to take the town by storm. I love the slow build-up of electric energy at live shows. The empty stadium, gradually filling up, the band doing their thing, owning every bit of the stage.


We are not waiting for the big guns to show up, we live in the suicidal moment.


Completely irrelevant with the rest of the show but awesome nevertheless.

This is why moving to Norway sounds like a plan.

So many different elements, sounds and influences.

 I even heard someone say the term avant-garde metal.

You know those moody, dark, foggy fairy tale mornings that somehow feel good and romantically violent?

 This is what they sound like.


I put my camera down for a moment to appreciate the show. Epic.

How on earth do they do it Every. Single. Time?

Peak after peak, the eternal war between good and evil.


I actually forgot that SLAYER where next.

You expect nothing after watching Sakis perform. You feel the need to go home and soak up the experience.

I’ve watched so many of their shows and I don’t see myself stopping any time soon.

Ever-changing but still the same. Trustworthy but always with something new to offer.



The farewell.


The thrash legends decided to say goodbye.

A musical legacy of nearly four decades ends here.

Does anyone else wonder how weird it must be to say goodbye over 100 times?


Do you get used to it as you reach for your notes to say “Thank you, I will miss you” in 100 different languages? (Ok, I am indeed exaggerating to make a point here).

But it’s a show.

Even goodbyes have to be staged in order for it to work, so let’s not allow our cynicism take over.


I’ll focus on the show, staged goodbyes are not really my thing.


Fast, relentless (see what I did there?) and the crowd screaming ‘Slayer’ in a sea of battle vests (note: at 40 degrees Celsius) and Slayer tees. Heavy dosages of razor-sharp precisioned riffs, explosive drums and brutal head banging.

They set the stage on fire. They kissed us goodbye, and left.

 Until the next one,

MHF Magazine/Chelf




Disturbingly Good


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