The Formative Years – Leatherface
Leatherface’s third album Mush is one of the greatest punk rock releases of the 1990s, if not of all time.
Period.
I feel in love with the record upon first listen and I would go as far as to claim that anyone remotely into punk and hardcore would be hard pressed not to like it. The way Leatherface effortlessly and authentically channels raw pain, intensity and a knack for melodies and great song-writing remains unrivalled and the fact that they have remained underneath the radar added to the appeal but was undeserved.
Every track stands for itself yet the album appears to be cast from one consistent mould, with the common denominator being a beautiful sense of desperation, immediacy and urgency, conveyed specifically by the dense entwining interplay of fleeting ever duelling guitar arrangements, which hit you bullseye when they culminate in an in-sync crescendo.
Frankie Stubbs’ vocal delivery reigns supreme in a league of its own – charismatic, rough not unlike Lemmy Kilmister, passionate and paired with his melancholic, inward looking and longing lyrics, heart wrenchingly moving and intensely affecting. He manages to strikingly articulate something deep down in a way that other aspiring vocalists can only dream of as he got the ever so elusive “je ne sais quoi” in spades.
Despite the greatness of all individual ingredients, the sum of the whole constitutes a much grander unique construct. Yes, there is melancholia, nostalgia, sentimentality and emotional content, but it is also immensely powerful, non-apologetic, yearning and brutal.
Suffice to say, without Leatherface, bands like Hot Water Music, Avail, Gaslight Anthem and pretty much all of Jensen’s bands, i.e. Dackelblut, Oma Hans, etc., would have sounded very different – let alone the band that Frankie Stubbs ventured on to produce, i.e. Snuff, Wat Tyler and China Drum.
