“You Can’t Stop Me”
First Posted: 8/4/2014
When founding vocalist Mitch Lucker passed away in a tragic motorcycle accident in 2012, it was unclear what would become of Southern California-based metalcore masters Suicide Silence. Pulling themselves up by the guitar strings in little more than a year and a half, the band answers back with a shuddering jolt of adrenaline as to the status of their custom-mowed brand of angst, with “You Can’t Stop Me.”
The band’s first album for esteemed metal boutique label Nuclear Blast, the album’s title is taken from one of the final lyrics that Lucker had written before his passing. The baton, or rather microphone, has now been passed to Eddie Hermida, ex-All Shall Perish vocalist, who proceeds to introduce himself to the Suicide Silence fan base with a razor blade tongue and dead-bang delivery that should convince even the most loyal of Lucker devotees.
Opening with the rather ominous instrumental noise intro of “M.A.L.,” featuring rusted piano creepiness and other assorted basement-dwelling nightmares, and seguing into the empowering thrust of “I Will Inherit The Crown,” it’s clear Hermida is out to prove his anguished shrieks worthy of his new outfit; or exorcise his soul clean in the process. “Cease to Exist” picks up without a single missed step, violently swerving into a tempo that would make any dedicated mosher blush; Hermida seeming to relish his line “I am here to punish you” amid the brief post-chorus breaks where the brutal guitar riffs take the sheer velocity to a mid-tempo authoritative chug.
One of the standout tracks, “Monster Within,” features guest vocal contribution (more like a grievous screech, it seems) from Dillinger Escape Plan’s Greg Puciato. The track’s broken-metered rhythm adds a disturbing depth to the already malicious cadence bubbling no-so-subtly underneath. Brief aural respite can be found by the time “Ouroboros” smashes through your speakers, but only for a moment. The track’s clean guitar/piano arpeggiation provides the sense of eyes-closed, peaceful cessation; before some hardcore knee-jerk metallic reactions to the finality of “day by day, we’re wasting away” are felt with seismic intensity.
The audio equivalent of being hit face-first by a Mack truck and, interestingly enough, wanting to experience more brain-stewing blemish, “You Can’t Stop Me” is nearly 40 minutes of emotional wrench that never felt so good.