REVIEW: Greg Puciato & King Yosef @ Crowbar Sydney
Review by Natasha Christian & photos by Daniel Kell.
The new wave of industrial is here, defying the norm.
Years ago, I spent a lot of time wondering why this one journalist was allowed to work from home full-time and the rest of us weren’t.
This was 10+ years before the widespread acceptance of remote working, back when the norm was to be in the office 38+ hours a week. I had a long commute and a lot of time to think about the reasons why. Housebound, dependents, immune issues … agoraphobia?
Eventually, I confronted my boss with my question. His response was blunt: “He doesn’t work well with others.”
I immediately resented that I wasn’t viewed the same way. In the aftermath, I tried a mask of indifference, eventually conceding that being difficult to work with wasn’t in my nature.
What’s this got to do with Greg Puciato’s show at Crowbar?
I’ve started to wonder if solo musicians are the “don’t work well with others” of the industry.
Watching this show reminded me of that work-from-home pioneering journalist - undeniably talented, constantly delivering, yet a punish to work with.
I’m not suggesting that Puciato, King Yosef or Trace Amount (all solo acts) are difficult to work with. I’ve never met them, nor heard anything close to that about them.
But for some reason, this show took me back to that time, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
I arrived at Crowbar Sydney to learn that the show’s schedule would be pushed back 30+ minutes, reportedly so Puciato could extend his meet-and-greet.
Mountain Wizard Death Cult, the only Australian band on the lineup, served as a wildcard, offering a refreshing palate cleanser before the impending pure industrial onslaught.
Their set kicked off with Wretch, the start of a relentless drum and bass assault that persisted to the very end.
Up next was one-man act, Trace Amount, who seemed to embrace the persona of someone who doesn’t work well with others.
The pounding drum and bass sound was so heavy it felt like it would force a dancefloor.
New Yorker Brandon Gallagher, has a towering presence. King Yosef described him as a “scary tall guy”. He could step in for Corpsegrinder should Cannibal Corpse ever require a new, new vocalist.
Diving into 2022’s Anti Body Language, it was clear why Puciato was willing to risk putting Gallagher in front of an Australian crowd - he’s a bold and captivating performer with a ferocity that’s been missing from newer industrial acts.
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Industrial is a genre known for taking itself too seriously - the less the crowd smiles and dances, the more they’re probably into it.
Watching King Yosef unleash his vocal assault in a nerdy X-Files shirt and mullet, is a much-needed breath of life for a scene that hasn’t changed much since the ‘90s.
The brainchild of Portland hip hop producer Tayves Yosef Pelletier (notably XXXTentacion and Ski Mask the Slump God), the set was backed by a talented and engaging drummer, who donned a teddy bear shirt and purple wig for the night, along with a sampler/guitarist.
Despite being King Yosef’s first Sydney show, the crowd welcomed him with open arms. His ability to infuse light and humour into his set mixed well with moments of pure rage, like the Godflesh-inspired Cut The Cord.
In an unexpected twist, one of the band’s crew took to the front rows with some intense interpretive dancing. I’m not sure if she was trolling the stiff crowd, or if she was genuinely moved to dance like Elaine Benes. While her intensity may have gotten in the way of a mosh during Power, I thought security was a bit heavy-handed in removing her. It was intense, but it was harmless.
Overall, King Yosef live is a bit of an unpredictable exorcism—defying industrial norms and captivating the crowd with undeniably great music and banter.
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Greg Puciato knows how to put a band together.
The level of skill on stage during this set was not just impressive, it was overwhelming.
Guitarists Nick Sadler of Daughters and James Hammontree of Black Magnet delivered enthralling performances, while Jeff Geisser provided one of the most composed yet powerful bass displays I've ever seen.
The first three songs of the set were so exceptional that I wasn’t sure where to look.
From the word go, the stage was cloaked with intense strobe lighting, perhaps a nod to Nine Inch Nails Fragility tour era.
The last time I saw Puciato it was January 18, 2019, when he was fronting The Black Queen on tour with Drab Majesty. Coincidentally, his latest Sydney show also fell on Jan 18. This time he played the role of a charismatic preacher, reaching out to touch faith with the crowd multiple times, drawing them in with his unmistakable voice.
Puciato is a frontman who exudes an aura of antisocial rebelliousness - like that kid in every class the teacher has trouble controlling. His talent is undeniable, yet he seems to revel in antagonising for attention, from messing with his bandmates’ instruments to turning the amps around to blast the front row with his vocals.
You can love someone and not necessarily like them.
The band seemed used to Puciato's eccentricities, giving him a wide berth on stage. A subtle exchange of "not again" side-eye glances hinted at familiarity with his antics, but I’m not sure they’d lump him with the difficult-to-work-with label.
At one point, something went wrong with Hammontree’s set-up, leading Geisser to feel more comfortable playing mid-crowd instead of onstage. Things seemed to smooth out around Lowered when Code Orange guitarist Reba Meyers joined the stage, easily winning over the audience.
During the encore, Puciato started to sing the intro to both his and Dillinger Escape Plan's biggest hit, One Of Us Is The Killer, only to abruptly cut it and tease the audience for liking the song, referring to them as "f***ing bogans" and "hoons."
It’s not as extreme as Maynard James Keenan calling his audience sheep, or Paul Di’Anno’s recent meltdown in Perth, but it’s disappointing when artists mock their fans for enjoying their creations.
The set wrapped with a cover of Alice In Chains’ Them Bones—a safe but perfect choice for Puciato's vocals and a clear influence on his work.
As the show ended, my thoughts hung on that remote-working journalist, and I realised that for better or worse, we often remember the most difficult people in our lives regardless of their contributions.