Live Reviews

LIVE REVIEW: Greg Puciato, Trace Amount, Tayne, The Garage, London, 08/03/2024

Photo Credit: Maryleen Guevara (10th March – Academy 3, Manchester)

This part of North London is famous for, amongst other things, being the home of Arsenal FC, as well as many fine restaurants and upmarket establishments. It’s a very aggressive musical choice on either ends of Upper Street, as Cattle Decapitation were at one end laying waste to the Islington Academy and Greg Puciato was bringing his first solo run to the Garage.

Tayne opened with a very noisy, difficult sound. Not named after the delightful Tim and Eric sketch where Paul Rudd creates a new avatar, the trio barraged the crowd who were trickling in through the opening of the venue with their weirdly catchy walls of noise. Slightly lost in translation due to a mixing issue, the band admirably carried on in difficult circumstances whilst the crowd were very slowly being let into the venue. Nevertheless, a solid opening set. 7/10

Trace Amount, brainchild of Brandon Gallagher, followed and a crushing, deeply vile mix of EBM, industrial and hints of metal smacked the audience in the teeth. This fared a bit better as the hostility of the sound seemed to attract some curious onlookers. Gallagher also made the locally sensible choice and wore a black Arsenal shirt, which probably won a few points into his favour given the area. 7/10

Anticipation by this point had grown to a polite, but excited fervour. The venue had mostly filled by the time Trace Amount had concluded and on his first solo show in London, Greg Puciato’s energy levels were high from the start. This is a man who clearly loves performing live, no matter who or what he is playing with. His vocals sound so massive in any setting and if he’d been struggling with any illnesses on this tour, he really wasn’t showing any signs of it tonight. Being backed up by a fearsomely talented band doesn’t exactly hinder the proceedings either. Coming out of the gates with a walloping version of Force Fed and Reality Spiral from 2022’s excellent Mirrorcell, it’s clear that Puciato is truly thrilled to be here, attacking both songs with the vigour fans have come to expect after watching him in any one of his many projects over the last few decades. In a wise move, he has toned the more visceral antics down since the end of The Dillinger Escape Plan, no dissembling the drum kit halfway through a song or launching himself off PA systems anymore.

A significant portion of the show relied on his first solo record Child Soldier : Creator Of God, whose songs absolutely wallop in this environment due to added guitar. Fire For Water comes flying out like a pissed off banshee, and No More Lives To Go’s bouncy chorus does the business for the crowd. This audience is fully into this material, singing along like they are old favourites. Puciato seems to get more fired up throughout the show, clearly buoyed by the reception. Down When I’m Not goes down well, its punk force mixed with the smooth as silk verses really delivering for this crowd. A Pair Of Questions takes the music into territory closer to what he was exploring in The Black Queen, breaking up the more aggressive numbers very, very well.

If it had been picked out, the absolute highlight of the show was the moment he brought out Reba Meyers of Code Orange for a colossal performance of Lowered, a song that would have been the biggest rock radio hit on the planet in a more just world. Meyers brings a different energy to her usual antics in Code Orange, and her vocals play so well with Puciato live, just as they did on the recording. That chorus is properly magic, and the “but it makes you feel alive” hook leading into the second chorus is a spine chiller. Closing with an incredibly aggressive cover of Them Bones by Alice In Chains (possibly inspired by his recent work with Jerry Cantrell), the set ends on a rather large high.

A fun Friday night, and even a tease of a reactivation of one of Puciato’s other projects, The Black Queen, sends the crowd home delighted. 8/10

Written by : Louis Tsangarides