Screw chill wave, aloha kill wave. The first time we saw Sewn Leather was on an infernal summer night at Bo Diddley's old house in Gainesville. Never since have we felt that close to the limits of our own mortality and immortality simultaneously. His shows aren’t performances so much as bloodletting rituals. A spontaneous group-trance ceremony transpires from a multitude of sweaty limbs, heads, and feet-- stomping, swaying, punching, pulsing, and hypnotized into one singularly-thinking-entity by infectiously minimal bass beats, seemingly ground to a pulp by the teeth of some odious beast. Griffin Pyn is the demonic spirit, the martyred victim, and the shaman that heals and exorcises us all through his sonic sacrifice.
- Taraka Larson of Prince Rama