Greg Puciato played The Sinclair – 5/23
Ex-Dillinger Escape Plan frontman Greg Puciato brought a tour of recent solo material to The Sinclair last Tuesday night, with support from Deaf Club and Trace Amount.
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Even if they weren’t your thing, you had to admire Dillinger Escape Plan. The Jersey mathcore legends were a technical marvel and summoned a live intensity matched by few of their ilk. I think often, for instance, of this clip of them decimating a Virgin Megastore in 2005, the hardest ever why-are-they-playing-here video this side of “what the fuck’s up Denny’s?”
Greg Puciato, who wielded the mic for much of their 20-year run, was a key part of their volatile spark. The years following Dillinger’s 2017 dissolution have featured less fire-breathing and balcony diving for the singer, but he’s kept busy via solo albums, darkwave project The Black Queen, alt-metal supergroup Killer Be Killed, and even a stint with Alice In Chains’ Jerry Cantrell. This year, he’s finally hit the road for a proper solo tour, including a date at The Sinclair last week.
As a solo artist, Puciato runs the gamut from dark, synth-y territory to mid-tempo metal and grunge, and Tuesday’s show stuck largely to the latter end of the spectrum. Backed by an ace four-piece band and a bevy of strobing white lights, Puciato channeled his trademark intensity into an impassioned 13-song set that highlighted the truly remarkable range and power of his voice. Not that it wasn’t present on their records, but amidst the unrelenting chaos of a Dillinger show, it could be easy to forget that Puciato can not only shriek with the best of them, but really sing too.
The set operated on a punk ethos, in and out in under an hour, but left a crowd clearly packed with diehard fans plenty satisfied.
The night was rounded out by a killer pair of supporting acts that made for perfect complements to the Puciato extended universe. Brandon Gallagher opened the show as Trace Amount, a one-man storm of industrial catharsis, before L.A.’s Deaf Club leveled the room with a frantic set of their grind-y hardcore. Fronted by The Locust’s Justin Pearson – an indefatigable ball of energy – they were at once tight, chaotic, biting and bracing, and altogether impossible to take your eyes off of. Keep an eye out for the Gene Simmons-related merch they’re (allegedly) trying get sued over, or the new songs they’re (allegedly) writing on acid in the van.
Check out photos from the whole evening below.
