REVIEW: LEAP - Entropy

There’s a strange electricity around LEAP right now, the kind you only get when a band feels on the cusp of something bigger. For the past two years they’ve been grafting across the UK and Europe, tearing up tiny venues and festivals with sweat-soaked, chaotic sets that turn strangers into family. That energy has been building, feeding a fanbase that doesn’t just listen but connects, and now it’s been captured in full on Entropy - the band’s long-awaited debut album.

The record arrives self-released, and that independence feels important. There’s no gloss of a major label sheen here, no sense of compromise. What you hear instead is the sound of a band still running on instinct, on grit, on pure hunger. Entropy is messy in places, rough around the edges in others, but that’s exactly why it works. It’s an album that sounds like it was made to be lived through, not just listened to.

The journey starts with Over&Out, a track that doesn’t just open the record but detonates it. It’s a full-tilt blast of riffs and pounding drums, like the lights going down and the first roar of the crowd. From the first second, it feels less like a song and more like a declaration: this is who LEAP are, and they’re not easing you in gently. That momentum slams straight into Play Dead, a swaggering punch of noise and sweat. It’s rowdy, loose, almost unhinged - the kind of song that makes more sense in a packed venue than it ever could on headphones. And that’s the beauty of it: LEAP know how to bottle the atmosphere of their live shows and pour it straight into a track, making you feel like you’re shoulder-to-shoulder in the pit even if you’re alone in your room.

The mood starts to shift with Exit Signs, which bristles with restless tension. It’s jittery, like pacing through the night with something gnawing at you, shadows lurking in every corner. Then comes Waste Your Love, where the noise dials back just enough to let vulnerability creep in. JACK SCOTT's voice carries more weight here, almost bruised, reminding you that beneath the chaos and bravado there’s a raw, emotional core. By the time Do Or Die crashes in, the pace has picked up again, all urgency and grit. It feels like a song written with a chip on its shoulder - daring you, or maybe daring the band themselves, to keep fighting through.

Then, right at the heart of the record, comes its most fragile moment: I Was Never There. This is the album’s gut-punch. Stripped-back and haunting, it peels away the chaos to show LEAP at their most exposed. Scott’s vocals feel cracked, on the edge of breaking, and that vulnerability makes the song hit harder than any wall of sound could. It’s the kind of track that lingers long after it ends, heavy in the silence it leaves behind. That silence doesn’t last long, though; Sinking Feeling, the monster single that first teased the album, crashes in with dancefloor-ready beats wrapped around lyrics full of dread and anxiety. It’s LEAP in their purest form: upbeat, anthemic, and built for movement, yet lyrically locked into the kind of honesty that cuts close to the bone. It’s a contradiction - joyful and desperate at once - and that’s why it works so perfectly.

The back half of Entropy feels like the band stretching their wings. Messages thrums with nervous energy, while Energies experiments with flashes of electronica threaded through the rock backbone, proof that LEAP aren’t content to be boxed into one sound.

Then comes The Downfall, an eruption that feels cinematic in scale. It’s huge, crashing, built for festival stages - a track that captures both devastation and euphoria at once. It’s the storm before the calm, leading into the closer Eclipse. As an ending, Eclipse doesn’t resolve the chaos so much as release it. It feels like the deep exhale after holding your breath for nearly an hour, the lights coming back on after the final song of a gig, leaving you a little dazed but buzzing. It doesn’t try to tie everything up neatly, and it shouldn’t. LEAP have never been about neatness. They’re about catharsis, and that’s exactly what Entropy leaves you with.

LEAP’s debut is messy, chaotic, vulnerable, and alive. It’s the sound of a band refusing to polish the edges, choosing instead to capture the sweat and grit that has built their reputation. Across its eleven tracks, Entropy swings from full-throttle chaos to quiet devastation, always with that undercurrent of hope - not the cheesy kind, but the real, lived-through kind that comes from admitting you’re broken and finding joy in the wreckage anyway. Entropy feels like both a reward for the fans who’ve carried them this far and a promise of what’s still to come. LEAP are only just getting started, but this debut makes one thing clear: they’ve already found their voice, and it’s one worth shouting with.

Score: 9/10

Entropy was released on 3rd October 2025.

Words: Mia Gailey

Photos: LEAP