THE FILMS – Don’t Dance Rattlesnake
Posted by AlMachine on Tuesday, June 19, 2007


So with new rave coming to its natural end and the whole lad-rock/dad-rock revival thankfully about to self-implode once anyone not connected with the NME hears The Twang’s album, where exactly do we go next?

Back to basics, that’s where, as this South Carolina foursome ably demonstrate here.

Sure, ‘Don’t Dance Rattlesnake’ won’t win any awards for originality, but among present company it actually feels like the dawning of a new era, a fresh start. Or maybe that should be the Emperor’s best suit after being given a good going over at Sketchley’s?

Whatever the case, The Films aren’t afraid to hide their influences. If anything, the biggest criticism here is that occasionally they wear them a little too damn obviously on their (leather, of course) jacket sleeves.

So, when after just two songs, the likes of ‘Belt Loops’ kick in like a Richard Hell demo from 1976 stammering up lines like “He’s been waiting in the alley for an hour/She’s been powdering her nose in the shower…” you’ve already made your mind up what the rest of the record is going to be about; Sex, drugs, rock and roll. The patron saints of hedonism indeed…

Of course to dismiss this as another Strokes/Libertines trade-off that missed the bandwagon by five years would also be an injustice, and the Elvis Costello on speed vignette ‘Tabletops’ coupled with the jerky New York Dolls paramedic dash that is ‘Strange Hands’ at least suggests that these guys know how to get their combined heads and chord fingers around a snappy tune.

Somehow though, one can almost imagine this album sounding a whole lot better live, and at times, particularly on the grandiose meltdown of ‘Holliewould Getaway’, the band sound stunted and hand-tied.

Still, if ‘Don’t Dance Rattlesnake’ spearheads a return to the four concepts of vocals, guitar, bass, and drums, it’s fine by me. Just remember to throw away the glo-sticks first…

Dom Gourlay




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