Slayer
Soundtrack To The Apocalypse (Limited edition box set)

THE REVIEW

Stuff for fans. It was 2003 and the 20th anniversary of Slayer is in the air (actually, the 21st). The Los Angeles reapers are on fire, and they think, "Come on, let's drop a bomb for the fans who are asking for the successor to 'God Hates Us All,' that way we can keep them satisfied for a bit." Exactly, some fall for it in their youth. Squandering my first seasonal work earnings, I head to my trusted record store and give myself a nice Christmas gift: the immeasurably colossal box-set "Soundtrack To The Apocalypse."

I'm a fan, and 90 euros (ninety euros) slip from my hands without even noticing, but I remain a fan, I don't care. So much so that the clerk, at the time of purchase, tells me, "Oh wow, a professional." Considering that the store will soon close, the doubt that the clever one ran away with the money to the Maldives haunts me to this day.

What does this "professional" gem contain? Let's proceed in order. An unavoidable best of spread over two CDs, a disk of rarities with various performances and demos whose tapes probably propped up a table leg in the Araya house. Additionally, a DVD crammed full of interesting performances/interviews from the early '80s to today, a complete live album in a splendid blood-bag-like packaging with floating skulls. To finish the work: a booklet containing the more or less detailed history of the group, a facsimile of a backstage pass, a fabric banner with the Slayer eagle emblem. All in a sturdy second-world-war-style ammo crate packaging.

Now, with this godsend, I should be happy for a lifetime, amusing myself with such a fetish until old age. Because it's stuff for fans. Not like that insignificant little package of the aforementioned box, stripped of all the trimmings to be sold later for twenty euros as if it were a mere greatest hits.

Let's face reality (and excuse the cliché): the packaging now has two fingers of dust, the best of I have never listened to completely (knowing the LPs by heart); the DVD, watched once, can stay where it is; the booklet has some nice photos, but if you're no longer a teenager you couldn't care less; the banner has long covered the record player, at least fulfilling its aesthetic function. The live album rocks, but after the first time you take it out of that damned "blood-bag-like with floating skulls," the CD is already full of scratches.

But I'm more of a fan than you. I'm happy.

PS: To those who notice the subtle irony between the lines, I’ll gift the very useful facsimile of the backstage pass.