The Dillinger Escape Plan is about as close to a household name as a mathcore band is likely to get. Their debut full-length, Calculating Infinity, launched them to a level of prestige previously unknown to purveyors of their brand of speed metal, and its impact on the hardcore and rock communities ensured the somewhat astounding longevity of their name recognition. Musical dexterity has always been the band's primary selling point, but the contributions of their original vocalist, Dmitri Minakakis, often seem underappreciated. Minakakis' passionate, incendiary delivery provided tangible pathos to the band's awe-inspiring but detached musicianship.
The band diverted attention from Minakakis' 2001 departure with an ingenious sleight of hand: While The Dillinger Escape Plan searched for a new lead vocalist, they filled their temporary vacancy with Mike Patton, whose stellar vocal contributions to their previous release, 2002's Irony Is a Dead Scene EP, suggested a bright if purely hypothetical future for the band. But this consummate metal wet dream was ultimately short-lived: Patton promptly left his special guest spot in the DEP roster, and the band fell back on Greg Puciato, whose promising demos won him a permanent spot as leading vocalist.
Common Sense dictated that Puciato's role in the band would be something of a stopgap position; it would seem that a new and relatively unknown vocalist wouldn't exceed the legacies of his predecessors, but also wouldn't significantly hinder the sound the band has honed for so many years. But five years after their last LP, Puciato is still on board. Miss Machine's first few tracks are business as usual for DEP: "Panasonic Youth" and "Sunshine the Werewolf"-- though not as punishing as most of the band's earlier material-- serve as an adequate bridge between their seminal debut and the brooding atmosphere of their work with Patton. Ben Weinman and Brian Benoit's frantically spiraling guitar figures and Chris Pennie's double-bass drum marathons give way to bristling, low-key breakdowns, and the band always manages to retain their brutal hardcore crunch within complex, fluid time signatures. Puciato lacks both Minakakis' immediacy and Patton's oily charm, but he manages to evoke both vocalists on the album's strongest tracks.
However, DEP is still struggling to re-establish a unified and compelling sound, and their newfound penchant for melodic exploration seems out of place amid the album's most inspired thrash moments. "Phone Home" revels in sluggish, overbearing doom metal and spoils the album's bristling momentum, and "Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants" is timid and repetitive, unimaginatively juxtaposing menacingly hushed verses with a phoned-in shrieking chorus. Puciato's Patton-indebted metal crooning comes across as awkward and seems incompatible with the album's aggressive drive. On the perplexing "Unretrofied", the band shamelessly apes second-shelf Faith No More, leaning toward melodic pop and away from the band's trademark sound.
Though Miss Machine displays DEP in top musical form, the band seems to have lost its confidence and direction. The album is alternately pensive and playful, and this fundamental musical split in their approach-- exemplified by Puciato's decided lack of a distinctive voice-- prevents their new material from reaching anything near the heights of their previous work. A few missteps are to be expected after years of internal change, but Miss Machine's confusing musical tangents and general aimlessness show The Dillinger Escape Plan straining to find their footing in the very scene they helped to define.
