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.


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.