God, finally. I’ve waited with baited breath for the past six years for another record by Leatherface, who are easily one of my favorite bands ever.
God, finally. I’ve waited with baited breath for the past six years for another record by Leatherface, who are easily one of my favorite bands ever. To try to sum this band up in words doesn’t really do them justice – I’ve heard them described as “if Motorhead were a pop-punk band” just as much as I’ve heard them described by comparison with bands like Hot Water Music or Dillinger Four, who have built their respective styles by borrowing heavily from Leatherface’s back catalogue.
So that might give you an idea, but it doesn’t really nail it. It’s melodic yet gruff, it’s world-weary yet hopeful, it’s aggressive but wistful, and it’s sentimental without being contrived. At a point in time where words like “honest” have been reduced to press-sheet blurbs for a host of undeserving bands, Leatherface is genuinely honest. And if that doesn’t get your motor running, don’t worry – there’s a world full of Animal Collective albums, ironic mustaches, and 80s-themed dance parties that might suit you better. -Graham Scala