With the exception of that town in Footloose, every society has dancing as a key aspect of cultural identity. It’s a human need to pull shapes and cut some rug; a universal of our corporeal condition that serves a central role in personal and group expression. Whether you dance like Fred Astaire or Elaine Benes, communion through rhythmic movement is about as spiritual as some people get. Snapped Ankles, on their fourth album Hard Times Furious Dancing, want you to know that dance is a means of forming bonds, of creating unity and solidarity in the face of the crushing reality of the first quarter of the 21st century. It’s not a solution, but a valid response to stave off collective madness.
The post-punk guitar sounds of their previous albums have shifted to the periphery here, replaced by elements that were always at the core of their sound but are now much more prominent. Metronomic beats, oscillating synths, and saw-toothed bass lines are the pulse of the record, and album highlight “Dancing in Transit” blends all of these aspects. It feels rapturous at times, as if this is the zenith of everything that this band of ghillie suit and mask wearing woodwose weirdos have been building towards. It’s at the meeting point of those elements where the band excels – dance rhythms which are a little complicated, a song structure that’s somewhat obtuse, and Mark E Smith style vocal meanderings that feel both too low in the mix but also just about right. Snapped Ankles, then, are a band of contradictions.
The album opens with wheezing and belching synth noises that take a while to settle – the machine is waking from its slumber. “Pay the Rent” focuses on how we, the rabble who do most of the working and paying and living and dying in this community, are left with a choice to heat or eat. The cost of living crisis – with the song’s refrain of “Turn down the gas” – sits heavy in light of ever-rising price caps and ever-rising (and huge) industry profits. And we let them get away with it…
“Personal Responsibilities” looks at the impact of the individual in light of such expectations of care that “…never, never, never apply to large companies / Corporations that don’t care about you and me”, while a gorgeous and mildly moribund synth pattern sounds not entirely unlike Ultra-era Depeche Mode. The messaging feels naive at times, but musically this is an interesting and developed sound. It’s an imbalanced partnership as the maturity of the music gets washed away a little with the lack of nuance in the lyrics. Snapped Ankles have never been known for their consciousness-altering words and this opinion won’t be shifted here. Still, this might be the first time that some listeners have considered such a thing in the same way that Napalm Death’s “Multinational Corporations” piqued this hack’s interest way back when, so it’s an important sentiment that shouldn’t be derided (or Derrida-ed) too much. And it’s not actually supposed to be a lecture from Joel Bakan, is it?
“Smart World” begins with an arpeggiated synth line that recycles itself throughout the track, skittishly mutating as it goes on its merry way. This is quintessential Snapped Ankles – forceful, playful, and something to get lost in. “Raoul” is similar, with descending 64-bit sounds adding a slightly retro-futuristic sound to proceedings, while “Bai Lan” extends this further to glorious, exultant effect. When they get it right, the album is an absolute joy of motorik drums and swirling keyboard lines. Incessant repetition with infrequent and almost indiscernible alterations in cycles is the key to unlocking the joy inherent in dance music, and Snapped Ankles utilise this recipe with aplomb.
Not everything on the album lands fully, though. The slower “Hagen Im Garten” has potential but feels too ponderous on an album where euphoric dance is the central concern. None of us are getting any younger and we could all do with a breather from time to time, but if you advertise furious dancing then that’s really what you need to deliver. Don’t make promises that your feet and cardiovascular conditioning can’t keep. The pulsating “Where’s the Caganer?” is a total baller once you learn the skill of blocking out the lyrics which make no poetic sense beyond the puerile – if you’re not sure what a Caganer is then just look it up and you’ll see what I mean. These are, though, minor quibbles on a record that begins to at least start to translate the total enigmatic elation that a Snapped Ankles live show can manifest.
To come full circle, can you remember what happens in Bomont, Utah by the end of the film? That’s right – Kevin Bacon triumphs in the whitest socks ever after beating up a priest as the kids gyrate hedonistically in a mill. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Footloose, to be perfectly honest, but it’s something along those lines if memory serves. The point being, you can’t hold back the urge – the necessity – to dance. We live in hard times, of this there can be no doubt (although, I mean, right now there are loads of people a lot worse off than you on this planet), and furious dancing may not be an answer as a form of direct action, but it serves as both escape and affirmation that we aren’t alone in all this mess.
