Tonight, North London belonged to Slayer. And for those who were there, the memory will burn long after the last embers of pyro have faded…
Words by Felix Bartlett | July 07, 2025
Header photo by Bryce Hall
The heavens themselves seemed uncertain how to react when Slayer descended upon Finsbury Park. One moment, the sun beat down with uncharacteristic fury, turning the sea of black t-shirts into a sweltering, sweat-drenched congregation. The next, the skies opened up in a fit of classic British indecision, as if the weather itself couldn’t decide whether to bless this unholy gathering or attempt to wash it away. But no amount of rain could extinguish the fire that Slayer brought to North London, both figuratively and literally, given the towering infernos of pyro that erupted throughout their set.
It was an afternoon of stark contrasts across the capital. While Slayer held the north in thrall with their relentless thrash assault, Sabrina Carpenter’s shimmering pop spectacle unfolded just a few miles away in Hyde Park. Two different worlds, two different crowds, one moshing to ‘Raining Blood’, the other dancing under disco-lit skies. The duality of London’s live music scene had never felt more pronounced. Yet there was something deliciously rebellious about Slayer’s ability to draw thousands of devotees on the same night, as if to prove that even in 2025, metal still commands its own devoted legion.
Before Slayer even hit the stage, we were treated to a brutal assault to the senses.. Neckbreakker opened things early, but the real rampage began with Hatebreed, who (if you didn’t know already) put on a bloody banger of a show with their hardcore anthems ‘I Will Be Heard’ and ‘Destroy Everything’ crushed expectations and converted the crowd. Mastodon followed, their progressive sludge offering a heavy contrast, with the heavens opening in time for ‘Blood and Thunder’. Anthrax brought the thrash tradition, ripping through ‘Caught in a Mosh,’ ‘Indians,’ ‘Got the Time’ and ‘Antisocial’ in a tight, adrenaline-fueled 45‑minute onslaught.
By the time Amon Amarth took the stage, the mood shifted to Viking grandeur, complete with statues, horns and fires, setting the perfect warlike tone for Slayer, complete with the infamous Viking Row mosh-pit.
Now for the main event… In the lingering shadow of Black Sabbath’s emotional farewell and extended hiatus, one question hung in the air: Could Slayer still command the stage with their signature primal force? Slayer answered with a resounding, ear-splitting YES.
They opened with a traditional montage of memories, preceded by a moment of unintended drama (a curtain malfunction so spectacular it would make Sleep Token’s Download mishap look tame). As the smoke cleared, ‘South of Heaven’ slithered through the speakers, quickly giving way to the earth-shaking churn of ‘Repentless’. It was immediately clear: this was no nostalgia act. This was Slayer at their most vital, their most vicious.
Tom Araya, his signature bass slung low, surveyed the chaos with a grin that bordered on diabolical. “You guys remember how to do this?” he taunted, moments before ‘Disciple’ sent the pit into a frenzy. The crowd roared back in unison, “GOD HATES US ALL!” as flames licked the sky behind him. Kerry King and Gary Holt traded solos like men possessed, their guitars spitting out riffs with surgical precision, while Paul Bostaph’s drumming was nothing short of artillery fire.
The setlist was a relentless parade of classics, ‘War Ensemble’, ‘Dead Skin Mask’, ‘Seasons in the Abyss’, each one delivered with the urgency of a band still hungry, still pissed off. Even the weather seemed to concede defeat with the dampned group seemingly dry after the heat of Slayer’s fiery onslaught.
As the crowd spilt out into the London night, along with one unlucky passerby’s pint onto my t-shirt (cheers, mate), they were hoarse, bruised, and grinning like madmen. The contrast with Hyde Park’s orderly exodus was impossible to ignore. Here, there were no curated playlists guiding fans to the Tube, just the occasional drunken howl of “SLAAAAAYER!” echoing into the darkness. On a night when even the skies couldn’t make up their mind, Slayer proved once again that their brand of chaos is eternal.
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