Charleston, South Carolina's THE FILMS, formed in 2003 when four high school acquaintances with different musical pasts, found themselves scrapping to stay alive in America's South. Now, after relentless touring and stirring in the Southeast, raising brows from Raleigh to Birmingham, Michael Trent (Vocals, Guitar), Jake Sinclair (Bass, Vocals) Kenneth Harris (Guitar, Keys,Vocals) and Adam C. Blake (Drums) have finally waxed twelve brand new hits wrought with spit, grit, attitude, despair, and charm.

Recorded in the early months of 2006, THE FILMS traded their southern comforts for an icy northern winter at The Loft studios in eastern Michigan. With a tireless schedule, the band held up on the floor of a dirty lake house to conceive an album provoked American rock of the 50's, British pop of the 60's. 70's glam and punk, and 80's new wave and Britpop. DON'T DANCE RATTLESNAKE is a dirty, frantic fit of the Beatles, Blur, the Rolling Stones, David Bowie, the Kinks, Elvis Costello, and Elvis Presley, meshed with the sadness of Gram Parson, and the swagger of Marc Bolan.

Belt Loops
7Hz
6.11.2007

Black Shoes
7Hz
4.2.2007

Don't Dance Rattlesnake - Import
7hz Records
2.5.2007

The Films
Filter
1.1.2005

When first laying eyes on the Films, you may rightfully mistake them for a clone of "garage-pop" band Jet, or a group who similarly apes the recent craze for 70's rock throwbacks. This assumption will gradually melt away though, as the Films' set progresses. They are not in fact a generic imitation of an era long since passed, but instead an amalgamation of several sounds and styles spanning rock's rich history. The first song, "Strange Hands", produces a curiously in-tune racket with glam rock over tones and a signature Rascals keyboard style, making this band out to be a New York Dolls update that can actually play their instruments. The Films' sound is derived from the heart of the mid-60s American garage movement (albeit then being molested by the mid-70s roar of New York CBGB's-era punk), and yet their stage presence evokes flashbacks to British Invasion acts such as the Dave Clark Five or the Kinks. This band rocks with a reckless abandon and oozing confidence which gives the impression that their amps are plugged into the vitality of the Stones during their prime. The chemistry between lead vocalist/guitarist Michael Trent and guitarist Kenneth Harris is akin to the antics of a young Mick and Keith, while the aloof Brian Jones of the band, bassist Jake Sinclair, nods away and looks strangely similar to late '90s MTV VJ Jesse Camp (yes…remember him?). And at the center of the madness, the steady drumming of percussionist Adam Blake supplies the crucial heartbeat that pumps the band's eclectic and engaging riffs. All in all, a band to watch out for. - Justin Thomas

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