The name of rave-infused, electro-punk oddballs Snapped Ankles’ upcoming album offers up an appealingly straightforward recourse for regular folk in a time of crisis. Tonight’s show arrives eight days before the release of the London-based group’s Hard Times Furious Dancing. Akin to Bristol heroes Idles’ 2018 record Joy As An Act of Resistance, it suggests that a stoic commitment to fun and good times is as good a response as any to a world in peril. Europe at large has begun a period of rearmament and a direct confrontation with Russia looks, at some point, worryingly likely? Well, may I suggest dancing like a loon to a bunch of guys dressed in ghillie masks who claim to be “descended from the trees.”
With the stage bathed in green lighting, a deep droning feedback and pitter-pattering synths pave the way for opener ‘Johnny Guitar Calling Gosta Berlin’, an old favourite from 2017 debut record Come Play The Trees. The tune centres around a spacey keyboard motif and frontman Austin has two microphones mounted on two tree branch-like structures, on to which he occasionally raps a drum stick for percussive purposes.
“It’s good to be back in Bristol,” Austin says, but even the band’s boilerplate gig-going pleasantries sound off-kilter, given the murky, bubbling reverb applied to the microphones. “We’re back in the forest, the imaginary forest”, he declares before the call to arms slogan “People of principal rise up” acts as the intro to ‘Pay The Rent’. A freakout of electro sounds and a tennis match back and forth of synthesiser riffs are the apocalyptic backdrop to the song’s sardonically detailed financial advice in times of austerity: “Turn down the gas and try to ration/Do the maths and cut back fashion/There’s no cheaper funeral than direct cremation.”
Describing Snapped Ankles’ musical style is no simple task. Tonight, there isn’t any live bass or guitar as have been seen previously. Instead, we have a drummer and two bandmates – occasionally joined by Austin – who, mad professor-like, use synthesisers and sequencers to create the large, frenetic soundscapes. They share the same dance amenable fusion of electronic rock styles as Swedish band Goat and Austin’s sloganeering, anti-melody vocal approach has been compared to that of The Fall. There’s also a bit of a DJ analogy here. Ostensibly feeding off the audience reaction, the tunes are full of pulsating build ups and momentum shifts. There’s a consistent rave-like vibe, evidenced by the amount of movement – even from some rather senior members of the crowd – in the room.
Austin asserting “I am not a politician” induces a cheer of recognition from audience members, denoting that this is the introduction to the band’s signature tune, the infectiously danceable “Rhythm Is Our Business.” One notices that the track’s idiosyncratic drum sound is facilitated by the attacking of two bent cymbals upon the drumkit.
While the band have seemingly leaned into their calling-card anonymity by not conversationally engaging that much with audiences, the fact that this is the group’s biggest tour to date may signify a slight changing of priorities. Austin gives a shout out to both the new album’s release and the merch table. He also goes into full room interactivity mode when, in getting “out of the forest and on to an imaginary beach,” he requests that the lighting be changed from the default green and purple spotlights to a bright yellow. He imagines a beach in Fuertaventura and asks different sections of the audience to duly embellish the image – as a backing to the evening’s next track – with the sounds of seagulls, waves and stray dogs.
The final of the night’s three tracks from Hard Times… that are currently accessible online appears in the form of ‘Raoul.’ It’s tempo building verses sound akin to Kraftwerk style electronica before it takes off in a sledgehammer industrial chorus, and a deliciously dark howling effect. During the last tune, two individuals in full ghillie suits – supposedly those that have been witnessed perambulating amidst the audience earlier in the evening – join the action, and dance and flail around in unison at each end of the stage.
Snapped Ankles’ hedonistic antidote for hard times – even if merely temporary – has proved powerfully effective.
Scott Hammond