Dallas-based LLEWELYN have recently released Borrowed Bones, a four-song EP arriving both digitally and as a 12” black vinyl via one of the greatest screamo and post hardcore torchbearer labels, The Ghost is Clear. Side B is a long-overdue pressing of their 2023 debut Disposable Culture, finally sharing space with its sharper, more serrated sibling. The record comes with all the baggage and momentum of two years spent learning, breaking, rebuilding, and accidentally forming a real band off a Craigslist ad.
They formed in spring 2022, named themselves after Llewelyn Moss from No Country for Old Men, and somehow made it stick. “Yes, it’s insane it’s worked out as well as it has.” The first EP dropped in late 2023 through The Ghost is Clear and Zegema Beach Records, and the following year was full of gigs, revisions, and swapping pedals with bands like Frail Body, Heavenly Blue, Michael Cera Palin, Infant Island, A Deer A Horse, Skimp, Trauma Ray, and Porcelain. That mix of sounds—grimy, melodic, chaotic, technical—pushed Llewelyn into sharper, stranger territory.
“We took our name from the main character in No Country for Old Men, Llewelyn Moss,” they explain, which is fitting—dry, grim, kind of doomed. The lineup’s been reshuffled since the first EP. Guitarist Josh Gomez left early on to chase a different life, pulling LLEWELYN from a two-guitar setup to a leaner, rawer form. “Sometimes less is more.” Bassist Tyler Mantz moved back to Milwaukee but not before laying down material Riley Smith would later finish and rework into Borrowed Bones. “We’re grateful to have him in the band as a person, creative force, and absolute gear nerd.”
“Riley picked up where Tyler left off and made a lot of it his own. He learned the material quickly and helped influence the sound and feel of these new songs. We’re grateful to have him in the band as a person, creative force, and absolute gear nerd. Tyler and Josh are both good friends of the band to this day and we all talk often. I know they’re hyped to see the new material dropping with the first EP they helped write and record.”
There’s continuity in the process even with the changing faces. The band returned to Niles Sound City in Fort Worth with engineer Marshall Pruitt. “We just wanted to work in a familiar, comfortable space and try to really nail down the biggest, most gnarly sounds we could get out of that room.” Pruitt’s chill demeanor and detailed ear paired well with what the band was chasing.
Final touches came from Chris Common (THESE ARMS ARE SNAKES), whose mastering work is the kind of quiet precision that holds chaos in place. “It’s an honor to have his name on this EP.”
The title track isn’t subtle. “It’s about the medical industry. It often feels like we don’t have autonomy over our own bodies because of how much money we pay to keep ourselves healthy.” No one’s trying to dress this up—there’s a line drawn straight from hospital bills to national violence. “I wrote this song before Luigi Mangione killed Brian Thompson, the CEO of United Healthcare at the time… I didn’t intend for the song to be as topical as it is, but maybe that works in its favor. Free Luigi.”
There’s no central concept here. Just four snapshots of frayed modernity.
“Snake Charming is about a specific person who I thought was a friend… started dragging me down in order to get ahead.”
“Timebomb is about having dreams and ambitions but feeling as though you’re running out of time to achieve them.”
“Wet Dog is about turning into a werewolf. There really isn’t much to it. I like werewolves.”
View this post on Instagram
They’re not pretending everything has to mean something. The EP’s tone pivots between snarling realism and dry absurdism without blinking.
That looseness carries through the instrumentation. Snake Charmer rides a riff they proudly call “swag”—a Jesus Lizard-type stomp twisted into a chaotic breakdown. Timebomb smuggles jazz and melody into its structure. “Listening to it makes me feel like I’m at a chaotic party, have been kicked out, and stumble into a late-night jazz bar.” The bridge nods to DILLINGER’s Setting Fire to Sleeping Giants—a fake jazz move that knows it’s a fake jazz move.
Wet Dog, sludge-thick and back-heavy, draws from Soundgarden and noir jazz alike. “This is arguably our sludgiest song.” The bridge lives in a diminished keyspace, led by bass and drums like a slow walk down a badly lit street. Borrowed Bones, the closer, builds off a METZ riff and spirals through tension, bounce, and collapse. “We re-worked the song a few times until we got it right… I think the bridge is the coolest part of this song.” There’s love for Three One G bands, THE BLOOD BROTHERS, and John Reis all over this record, but it’s not nostalgia. It’s more like DNA.
View this post on Instagram
The art matches the sound. The cover—“Amor Sagrado” by Mario Mata and Andy Felty at Welcome Stranger Tattoo—was pulled from an art show. “When I saw it, I immediately had a moment of revelation.” Skull relics, screen print grime, and old-world mythologies. “Love and death. I think they’re timeless and epic.” It wasn’t made for the record, but it fits like it was.
The vinyl itself—black, limited to 250 copies—is up at The Ghost is Clear. “We love Bobby (TGIC founder, owner), his label, and the body of work he’s put out over the years… It’s honestly hard to imagine releasing something without him at this point.”
They opened for Portrayal of Guilt at Thinline Fest in Denton, TX on April 25th at Dan’s Silverleaf—a fittingly intense setting for a band that’s been sharpening its edge in every direction.
Llewelyn’s got more shows lined up, mostly close to home: May 10 at Which House with Godot (album release), Jake’s Holiday, and Hazelwart; May 30 at Rubber Gloves with tfbundy and Gay Cum Daddies; and July 19 back at Which House with Missouri Executive Order 44, Record Setter, and Godot.
No mission statement or triumphant arc. Just four new songs. One old one finally on wax. A band that came from nowhere and somehow stuck.
Check out their first hand track by track rundown below.
Snake Charming
This song is about a specific person who I thought was a friend. As time went on, this person started dragging me down in order to get ahead and even resorted to sabotaging my work. It was a weird time, but I got to keep my job. He didn’t.
Timebomb: This song is about having dreams and ambitions but feeling as though you’re running out of time to achieve them. I turned 32 this year, and I look at a lot of old friends and they’re all getting married. They’re all in careers they love and are having children and I’m at job that barely pays, living in an average apartment. Time is fucked up, man.
Wet Dog
This song is about turning into a werewolf. There really isn’t much to it. I like werewolves. I wrote a song about a dude turning into one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Borrowed Bones
This song is about the medical industry. It often feels like we don’t have autonomy over our own bodies because of how much money we pay to keep ourselves healthy. Wanna keep your teeth? Hope you can afford it. Feel a weird pain in your chest? You can’t afford a hospital visit, so just ignore it and hope it goes away. Universal healthcare is the norm pretty much anywhere else in the world. But here in America, you gotta have the scratch to even get a routine check-up. It’s like we’re paying rent on our own bodies.
I wrote this song before Luigi Mangione killed Brian Thompson, the CEO of United Healthcare at the time. It was one of the few times in my life that I saw people on both the left and right come together and share the same opinions on it. Medical bills are a struggle that everyone in this country’s gotta deal with. I didn’t intend for the song to be as topical as it is, but maybe that works in its favor. Free Luigi.
