Perhaps the only issue that Slayer has—and, considering the band’s potency, it’s not even that much of an issue—is how they’re incapable of change at this point in their career. Even if they wanted to, they’d jeopardize alienating their devout fan base, a substantial populous of such loyalty that to tinker with the formula would be career suicide.
The Ramones suffered from the same plight and—if you’ll recall—twenty years into their own career, they began to wind the machine down until they finally imploded under the weight of their own pistons.
So if the Ramones represent a finely tune American V8, then Slayer adds a nitrous tank to it. And while the Ramones secretly pined for top forty success, Slayer seems completely ambivalent to it, perfectly content with appeasing their loyal fans with record after record of blitzkrieg bop, bam, and double-kick drum bash.