God Hates Us All: Picking up the pieces and planning an evening in honor of Slayer and pal's canceled show

As reported last month, thrash-metal triumvirate Slayer, Megadeth, and Testament canceled the first leg of their American Carnage tour as Slayer bassist-screamer Tom Araya went under the knife for another round of back surgery. The metalsphere’s unholy vigil rages on until the tour resurrects itself and heads to UIC Pavilion on Aug. 20, but does that mean that Friday evening needs to be any less heavy in its absence? The A.V. Club thinks not, and we found the blood, booze, and Babylonian dragon spirits to fill the void left in the trio’s bone-crushing wake.

Testament

Testament's Dungeons & Dragons-esque cover art paints it as a power metal band, but the band built its career on the same style of hyper-aggressive thrash riffs that Metallica, Anthrax, and every other serious metal act of the mid-'80s made famous. Releasing the worst albums of its career at the height of its popularity didn’t do the band any favors, but an almost comical level of band personnel turnover robbed its later work of the musical chemistry that defined early classics such as 1987’s The Legacy, and quickly brought the once-promising band crashing back to earth. The group soldiered on, and briefly hit its stride again with 1999’s The Gathering.

Testament’s tale of wasted and eventually recaptured potential suggests an evening aboard a newly righted ship. Given the ho-hum (though still tasty) nature of its Dynamo Copper lager and Flywheel Bright lager, Metropolitan Brewing Company (5121 N. Ravenswood Ave., 773-248-4038) found itself in early danger of becoming just another non-spectacular microbrewery, but the newly launched Krankshaft kölsch has won over even the demanding beer snobs at Beer Advocate. Krankshaft is making its way to taps around town, but why not get the nectar straight from the source? (Note: Literature on the subject avoids specifics on “the hour of Tiamat” to which Testament alludes in “Burnt Offerings,” but if that hour happens after 3 p.m., Tiamat can come along for the brewery tour before laying humanity to waste.)

Megadeth

After getting fired by Metallica for being the wrong kind of drunk in a notoriously intoxicated outfit, singer-guitarist Dave Mustaine used his contributions to that band (most directly Kill ‘Em All’s “The Four Horsemen”) as the starting point for Megadeth’s musically complicated, socially and politically conscious speed metal. Mustaine sang the junkie blues in “Use The Man,” but also took Ronald Reagan’s Cold War mania to task on most of 1986’s Peace Sells...But Who’s Buying? Megadeth now stands as one of the most commercially and critically successful metal bands of all time, yet Mustaine’s work has always been overshadowed by the feats of his old band; yes, Metallica outsold Megadeth, but in all fairness Metallica outsold everyone, making such comparisons unfair and, frankly speaking, just plain stupid.

The inexplicably high second act expectations, hard drinking, and active interest in global happenings steer Megadeth’s set toward a trip to the newly re-opened Bolat African Cuisine (3346 N. Clark St., 773-665-1100). The semi-rare Ghanaian and Nigerian beers add an element of worldliness to cocktail hour, but the jollof rice is served with goat meat—and killing a goat is fucking metal.

Slayer

Contrary to popular belief, the members of Slayer neither possess nor advocate any particular pro-Satan ethos. Rather, Slayer’s audio airstrike, shaped primarily by the dueling shrieks of Araya’s voice and guitarist Kerry King’s banshee-wail solos, has remained so relentless for so long, many have simply assumed music that sounds like pure evil must actually be pure evil, especially in light of its heavy incorporation of blood-related imagery (“World Painted Blood,” “Spill The Blood,” “Blood Red,” etc.).

As part of its 2004 tour, the band brought its hemoglobinal fixation to its logical summit, performing 1986’s Reign In Blood album from start to finish–complete with a “Wall Of Blood” that literally rained fake blood on the audience during closer “Raining Blood.” Outside of robbing the nearest LifeSource, the nearest substitute to a plasmatic deluge rests in the boudin noir grillé (“roasted blood pudding”: grilled blood sausage topped with caramelized onions and apples) from La Sardine (111 N. Carpenter St., 312-421-2800). It’s not nearly as terrifying as a middle-aged man screaming about “a lacerated sky bleeding its horror,” but La Sardine’s extensive wine list means the red can still flow eternally in Slayer’s absence. “Your time slips away,” indeed.