Thine Eyes Bleed
Thine Eyes Bleed
The End
Visine might not do the trick
Undisputable fact: The last gig any band in their right mind would want is to be the opener for Slayer. Yeah, yeah, “That would be such an honor” bullshit aside, the gig is the most treacherous in music. If Led Zeppelin reunited (for reals) tomorrow and Plant and Page wiggled their little asses into air-tight velvet trousers, those dudes would get Slayer-ed off the stage. Cliff Burton could appear in his birthday suit with Dimebag strapped to his head and they’d get Slayer-ed off the stage. Wanna open for Slayer? No thanks, we’ll just play Guitar Hero in mom’s basement until the VFW lets us in to jam.
Of course, when Slayer hand-picks your ass to open the Unholy Alliance Tour, you’re fucked. Or blessed. The fellas in London, Ontario’s Thine Eyes Bleed were given the job in 2006, then had the added bonus of having to trump that feat with a new album. Big shit that Thine Eyes’ bassist is Tom Araya’s little brother Johnny. As far as I’m concerned, that only increases the pressure. If you blow it, big brother is gonna serve your nuts on a cracker to Kerry King.
Fortunately, Thine Eyes Bleed have some sense swimming in their collective head. Their self-titled second album is a heavy-handed thrash menagerie that’ll make you seriously consider growing your hair long again just so you can whip that bitch to and fro. Tempos vary, allowing listeners some mandatory beer-chugging and invisible-orange-squeezing moments. “It’s a matter of time; you’re gonna die, motherfucker,” warns growly Justin Wolfe. But no one’s gonna dare cut these dudes short. Not yet. —Jeanne Fury
