Hershey, PA — Hersheypark Stadium feels like a festival the moment doors open. Sun on concrete, black tees wall to wall. WWE’s Damian Priest grabs the mic as host and the place pops—game on.
Exodus light the fuse. Old-school bite, gang-shout swagger. When “Bonded by Blood” hits, the pit blooms and you remember how lethal Bay Area thrash sounds in a football bowl.
Cavalera Conspiracy lean into a Chaos A.D. grind—weight plus groove, drums like a foundry, riffs that coil and snap. Heads down, voices up.
Power Trip storm in hungry and mean. Breakneck and precise. Riffs crack, bodies fly. It reads like a rebirth and a victory lap at once.
Suicidal Tendencies flip the switch to skate-pit chaos. Smiles and elbows everywhere, Mike crisscrossing the barricade, the temperature jumping ten degrees.
Knocked Loose arrive like a freight train. Breakdowns bend the lower bowl, the rail turns into a choir. Modern heaviness slots perfectly next to legacy fire.
Then Slayer. No speech, no warmup—just detonation. A steel cable of a set from “South of Heaven” to “Angel of Death,” with the stadium shaking under “War Ensemble,” “Seasons in the Abyss,” “Raining Blood” and more. Red lights drop, Hershey roars like a jet engine.
In the swirl we catch a sight we’ll be repeating all year—Jesus, Mario, Santa, and Willy Wonka taking victory laps in the circle pits. Robes, overalls, fur trim, purple coat—blurring past in a storm of grins. Only at metal shows do the North Pole, the Mushroom Kingdom and the pearly gates trade crowd-kills.
It lands heavier because this is the one-night-only East Coast headliner of 2025—stadium scale, festival energy, club-show heart. We leave hoarse, buzzing, and a little taller.
Slayer Tour
