Snapped Ankles

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Snapped Ankles
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Background information
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GenresAlternative Rock
Years active2015-present
LabelsThe Leaf Label

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They came from the trees. Now settled in fertile east London, Snapped Anklesmaintain the feral energy of the forest. Fight or flight. Primal motorik rhythms, the rush of white noise and post-punk angles; an aural onslaught played out on homemade log synths, electrified guitars and sticks beating hell on taut animal skin. Snapped Ankleshave flourished in the sub-tropical climes of warehouse and squat parties, moving onto performance art collaborations with filmmakers and shows in unlikely locations such as barber shops, games arcade and the forests they once called home. They plough a singular furrow at improbable angles. The woodwose have discovered electricity and they’re not afraid to use it.

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Snapped Ankles by Kasia Wozniak

From the Leaf Label Press Release:

Snapped Ankles logo

It once happened in that country (and this seems indeed strange) that a living creature was caught in the forest as to which no one could say definitely whether it was a man or some other animal, for no one could get a word from it or be sure that it understood human speech. It had the human shape, however, in every detail, both as to hands and face and feet, but the entire body was covered with hair as the beasts are.

Taken from the Old Norse text Konungs Skuggsjá (1250) The Best Light Is The Last Light is the new EP from woodland agitators Snapped Ankles, following their debut Leaf single ‘I Want My Minutes Back’ with something a little more substantial to get your teeth into. Since their move to the city, the woodwose have gorged on cinema and left this gleaming carcass. The EP opens with motorik fuzz epic ‘Jonny Guitar Calling Gosta Berlin’, its title taken from Greta Garbo’s 1924 big screen debut The Saga of Gosta Berlin. The track draws heavily on Jean-Luc Godard’s nightmarish Weekend, in which an excursion to the countryside ends in revolution, the collapse of bourgeois society and cannibalism. The circle of life.

What follows is a kitchen sink post-punk one-two in ‘Fukushima Failure’ and ‘Director’s Nostalgia’. Knotted and contagious. Snatched lyrics about nuclear disaster and barely coherent rants about art house cinema over clattering ramshackle rhythms that will lodge themselves deep in your brain long after the screen fades to black. Mark E.Smith is lost in the forest and picking fights with the trees. As the credits roll we’re played out with the soundtrack to some forgotten 1970s Italian road movie in ‘Wendy’s Road Rage’



  • Stunning Luxury - 2019




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