Greg Puciato has always been enigmatic. For almost two decades, he was the unparalleled frontman for mathcore legends The Dillinger Escape Plan. For his second solo album, Mirrorcell, out Friday July 1 from Puciato’s Federal Prisoner Records, he continues to innovate.
Since Dillinger’s dissolution, Puciato has been keeping busy by collaborating with several big names in metal. He founded the supergroup Killer be Killed, alongside Sepultura/Soulfly guitarist Max Cavalera, Mastodon bassist and vocalist Troy Sanders, and Converge drummer Ben Koller. He also founded The Black Queen, an electronic supergroup featuring Joshua Eustis and Steven Alexander who both performed in Nine Inch Nails. As a featured artist, he has lent his talent to songs by Suicide Silence, Every Time I Die, Lamb of God, Carpenter Brut, and Jerry Cantrell amongst others.
Puciato’s versatility persists on Mirrorcell. He wrote and performed every instrument, except drums, on this album. The album begins with “In this Hell You Find Yourself,” a minute-long prelude with squealing feedback, sludgy chugging guitars and an underlying eeriness. This culminates and segues into “Reality Spiral.” A straight metal riff reminiscent of mid-tempo Mastodon and a vocoded voice with tidbits of Cornell show that Greg can still excite.
“Never Wanted That” has a fuzzy postpunk riff. Puciato has clean voice here, which comes as a sexy, raspy whisper. Strategically, it rises and becomes grungier. Jerry Cantrell, guitarist for Alice in Chains, ws one of Puciato’s idols growing up, and the two have become close since their collaboration on Cantrell’s album last year. On several moments on this album, but especially this track, his voice sounds like Alice in Chains’ late great Layne Staley.
Following that, Code Orange’s Reba Meyers offers guest vocals on “Lowered.” One of the singles teasing Mirrorcell, it is shoegazey. Some vocal modulation happens on Puciato’s end, but when it’s clean, it’s like morphine.
Isolation is a recurring theme on this record, as much of the lyrics are about loneliness. “We,” a dancier, synth-based track, includes the chorus, “I know that we need to be more careful/ Because we can act like monsters some other time. But we keep on racing through the colors of the night.” His refrain also paints a disruption: “You’re so misleading/ I’m just repeating/ We’re making sense/ But I’m not listening.” Melodically, it’s shimmering but lyrically, it’s bad tidings. Continuing with this theme, “Rainbows Underground” has a gothic, ‘80s feel to it. “I’m buried with my dream tonight and I won’t ever be found/ They’re searching for a man, but they’re just rainbows underground.”
Puciato’s apprehension is also palpable. “Rainbows Underground” expresses worry about his place; worried about running behind, running out of time, his impermissibility to make a mistake, worrying if it’s too late. But the final track on this record really drives the looming devastation to an unforgettable climax.
“All Wave to Nothing” starts with a big drum sound and an industrial riff. Puciato’s voice is stringy and gruff. “I don’t really feel like myself anymore,” is spoken and sung atonally in a refrain. At nearly nine minutes in length, this is the view of a diary of a man at the end of his rope. “I don’t really like myself much.” False chord, voice rising. “No, no, no, no, NO NO NO!” Puciato screams, mumbles, whispers, dubs over himself, gargles the microphone while guitar, synth, and drums cave inwards. “I don’t feel like I could fucking cry ANYMORE,” ending that section with a jarring scream before soothing guitar midsection. Then, for the remainder of the song, it’s as if a flip was switched. One final impressive scream near the end before a concluding fading melody is the perfect reminder of the hyper dynamicity of the Dillinger Escape Plan frontman.
What is a mirrorcell? Well, in “All Waves to Nothing,” it’s revealed that he is a “cell of mirrors.” In astronomy, a mirror cell is the supporting mirror in a reflective telescope. Greg Puciato has done a lot of introspection within Mirrorcell; he has matured from his Dillinger days, but offers plenty of abruptness and exploration not only to appease fans but to please them as well. The album cover is a retinography; if we look within, what light do we see?
