Snapped Ankles – Hard Times, Furious Dancing review

Snapped Ankles are not only the kind of group the world wants, they’re also the one it nees right now. Leaving aside their sincere but a bit contrived feeling backstory – facemasks and camoflague, claiming descent from trees, synths rigged up to pieces of wood – one of the few remedies still available to people that doesn’t get charged for by the man is dancing, which Hard Times Furious Dancing is all about.

Sometimes there’s no need to explain this shit anymore than that, but on opener Pay The Rent the anonymous collective set out the impossibility of being performers and breaking even when the industry is dominated by Trustafarian no marks. It’s also a gut punching techno banger, looking back deliberately to the early illegal rave scene and it’s connections – however tenuous – with the hippy Shoom ideals of the original partygoers.

Trust is hard to find and the world’s richest people don’t seem to get it, a theme Personal Responsibilties explores on the virtual stump, whilst Smart World imagines an argument over AI between Conny Plank and Brian Eno. We came to lose ourselves though, so Where’s The Caganer? and Raoul are the perfect vessels, both ready to deafen and happy up in equal measure. We need Snapped Ankles, but if they don’t need us then Hard Times Furious Dancing will have to do as we boogie in the falling ashes.

You can read a full review here.