Originally released: May 17, 2025.
Extended Deluxe Edition Released: June 19, 2026
Kerry King was never going to make a gentle record.
That would have been weird.
After Slayer ended, the question was not whether King still had riffs. Of course he had riffs. The real question was what kind of record he would make once the Slayer name was no longer on the cover.
Would he try to prove he could do something entirely different?
Nope.
That is what makes From Hell I Rise captivating, especially in its extended deluxe form. The question is simple: what happens when one of the main architects of Slayer makes the most obvious Kerry King record possible?
You get this album.
The album does not run from Slayer’s shadow. It walks straight into Slayer’s shadow, steel-toed boots and all. That is not a weakness. King knows what his hands do. He writes riffs that sound like they were built out of hate, speed, and old concrete. He does not need to pretend there is suddenly a prog-rock version of himself waiting to bloom.
“Diablo” opens like a warning siren before the actual beating starts. It is short, tense, and mostly there to set the floor on fire. Then “Where I Reign” hits, and the point is clear. Kerry King does not try to soften the landing. The guitars have that familiar bite, Paul Bostaph is still a machine behind the kit, and Mark Osegueda comes in like he knows exactly what chair he is sitting in.
That matters.
Osegueda is not trying to be Tom Araya. Good. That would have been a disaster. He brings his sharper, more frantic attack, and that helps the album feel like more than Slayer cosplay. He sounds like somebody dropped into King’s world and was told to survive it.
“Residue” marks the point where the album begins to establish its identity. The riffing is nasty, but the song has a cleaner modern punch. It is furious, direct, and built for impact. King’s writing is still full of those jagged turns, but the production gives everything a little more room than late-era Slayer sometimes had.
“Idle Hands” is the mission statement. It sounds exactly like what people expected from this project, and that is kind of the point. Fast riff. Harsh vocal. No patience. It is not trying to surprise anyone. It is trying to remind you that this style still works when the person writing it actually believes in it.
The middle of the album keeps that same attitude. “Trophies of the Tyrant” has the political venom King has been throwing around for decades. “Crucifixation” stretches out more and gives the record one of its nastier centerpieces. “Tension” and “Everything I Hate About You” are shorter punches, the kind of songs that do not need much explanation because the titles already tell you the mood.
This is not subtle music, and it shouldn’t be.
The deluxe edition makes the record more compelling because of the demos with King’s vocals. That is the part that changes how you hear the album. Not because Kerry suddenly reveals himself as some hidden great singer. He does not. The appeal is rougher than that. You get to hear the skeleton before the proper body gets put on it.
Those demo versions make the album feel more like a workshop. You can hear the riffs carrying the songs even when the vocals are just there to map the shape. That says a lot about King’s writing. The vocals matter, but the riffs are the language. Everything else gets built around that.
Phil Demmel is important too. His leads give the album extra flash without pulling it away from King’s blunt-force style. Kyle Sanders keeps the low end thick. Bostaph does what Bostaph does: precise, intense, and completely unsentimental. The whole band sounds like it understands the assignment.
That is why From Hell I Rise works.
This is not Kerry King starting over. It is him moving forward without changing the weapon. It is a continuation with a different name on the front. That might sound like a knock, but it really is not. Some artists spend their late career trying to escape the thing people loved them for. King sounds completely uninterested in that game.
By the time we reach the title track, the record has made its case. This is Kerry King after Slayer, but not Kerry King apologizing for Slayer. It’s the same anger, the same bite, the same refusal to decorate the room when he can just burn it down.
So what happens when one of the main architects of Slayer makes the most obvious Kerry King record possible?
You get From Hell I Rise.
Not a new personality.
Not a careful rebrand.
Just Kerry King proving that sometimes the obvious move is obvious because it is still the right one.
Written by Rob Joncas for DeadNoteMedia. Artist information and music courtesy of the band. © 2026 DeadNoteMedia. All rights reserved.
DeadNoteMedia 