Known as ‘post hardcore’, listeners have a choice with Leathermouth, of either to try to listen to its thrash-metal origins, the anger, fear and frustrations that are semi-evident in its cacophonous and largely indiscernible ten debut album tracks, or just to switch off. I wish that I could tell you more than what follows but I do not feel well enough qualified in this style of ‘musical presentation’ to be able to propose anything but the latter.

It is a visceral explosion of ire and, apparently, an outlet for the vomitus eruptus of its central founding member, Frank Iero, of My Chemical Romance, who feels so heartily sickened by all of the world’s ailments that he is probably set to damaging his vocal chords irreparably, by shouting his way through each of the ten tracks on this first album from the band. If you can hear lyrics, then good luck! If you cannot, then perhaps the sheer pent-up, punk-rock fury of the raucous racket emerging from his throat may provide you with the impetus to follow-up some of its less-than-musical rantings.

Apparently, the group was formed in a garage in New Jersey in 2007, with the sole intention of creating a confrontationally raw mouthpiece for Iero’s temper-tantrums. Originally, Iero wanted to leave the musings to somebody else to vent but, when the original lead ‘singer’ struggled to provide any lyrics (because, apparently, they are in there somewhere…), he took over the role of lead-shouter and the rest led to this debut album.

Look, I realise that there is a narrow niche being filled here, one that is occupied by sweaty, grungey 16-30 year olds, whose incessant head-banging and energetic jousting will surely cause them some additional traumas in late life but it is not my kind of sound at all. Sorry! Having said that, this album was clearly good enough to be released by Epitaph Records and it will find some welcoming buyers somewhere, even if they may find it as indecipherable as I did! Go Leathermouth!

Iain Robertson