Written by: Ed Howson
Published: 05 Sep 2016 - 04:22 AM


Deathcore elite crushes Brisbane on Saturday night.


It might not be a newsflash to you that Californian deathcore band Suicide Silence played at Brisbane’s Wooly Mammoths on Saturday night; and if you went you would probably know that it was a pretty darn excellent night. 

I had first seen Suicide Silence at No Sleep Til Brisbane back in 2010. Before then I had never heard of this band, and needless to say I didn’t pay them much attention when they entered the stage as I pushed lukewarm beer into my face in the pouring rain. I heard a menacing growl come through the speakers, and to my amazement turned around to see a small, skinny, black haired man with one leg up on a platform and a microphone in hand. ‘That couldn’t have come from him’, I thought to myself. I watched, mesmerised, as this bloke who looked like he would blow away in a stiff breeze busted out some of the most energetic and gruesome vocals I had ever heard. The band finished and exited the stage, my hand still gripped around the same tepid, half finished Milton mango (that’s XXXX Gold for those of you not from Brisbane). There is no mistaking the on-stage presence of Mitch Lucker, and his power to command your undivided attention. 

When Lucker tragically died in November 2012, I felt, as many others did, that this would be the end of Suicide Silence. Alas, eleven long months later the band announced that Eddie Hermida of All Shall Perish would be stepping in as the new vocalist. There was mixed feelings about Hermida stepping in from fans and critics alike, and from here on in I can only offer my personal opinions.

I next saw Suicide Silence at Soundwave ’14, and it was purely by accident. Myself and the girl I were with had been given an old map from the previous year by the workers at the front gate which had a different numbering system for the stages. We had been trying to find a particular band, which must have been a shit one as I didn’t put the brain power in to commit it to memory; her choice, not mine. As we stepped through the door expecting to see this other band we stubbled across Suicide Silence ripping up an excellent show. I managed to hold out for two songs before the uninterested look on her face forced me to accompany her on the quest to find this other band.

Fast forward two and half years, and low and behold they were playing again... and I wasn’t going to miss out this time. I bought myself a ticket, and one for Taco with the instructions, “We’re going you Mexican, and you don’t have a choice”. We’d been pre-drinking and going through a playlist of deathcore bands when we realised that we had woefully misjudged time and we were running late. We jumped in a cab and talked excitedly during the ten minute drive. Racing down the street we made it to the front door of Wooly Mammoths to find the ticket attendees taking selfies, presumably with some form of childish filter so they can Instagram stupid shit like ‘#lovinglife’. Get real cunt, your life is shit. My rage for snapchat filters and hashtags has made me digress... Taco and I burst through the doors just as Suicide Silence started playing, what a stroke of luck. 

I had attempted to keep a list of the songs that were played for this review, but I missed a couple while I stared confused at two blokes who had Emo swept fringe haircuts that made them look like they were time travellers from 2006. Now I’m not saying that I’m the pinnacle of fashion, but seriously, it wasn’t even cool back then, let alone a decade later. Cut that shit away.

After seeing this performance on Saturday night, I can wholeheartedly say that I think Eddie Hermida was definitely the right choice, and I couldn’t imagine Suicide Silence being fronted by anyone else. His vocal range is exquisite, and one could say that his on-stage presence could almost match that of Mitch Lucker.

At the end of the show, the fans went in two directions, one half to Crowbar where Sean and Lee from Thy Art Is Murder were DJing, and the other half to The Brightside. Unfortunately, I went to The Brightside, where I got stuck talking to a guy who looked like he’d had his first hit of meth through the umbilical cord.

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