ALBUM REVIEW: Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes – ‘Dark Rainbow’

Dark Rainbow is the kind of album you make when you’ve got confidence. Now, you could argue that Frank Carter would’ve been qualified for that the second he decided music was the vocation for him, but a certain kind of confidence, the type that’s only been bred from the leaps and bounds his Rattlesnakes work has undergone. Post-Gallows, when the idea of a return to similar venom-spewing was much-feted, a carved-in-stone declaration like “Even on my own / You can’t stop me” was Carter’s du jour. Since then, though, after multiple albums of deconstructing his punk of old, and embracing joy, romance, maturity and the other multitudes of humanity, Carter’s profile as a performer has catapulted galaxies further. It’s why Dark Rainbow could, and should, never have been the first Rattlesnakes project—the evolutionary journey is too important.

It’s also a testament to not only how well all four prior albums have aged, but also the work they’ve individually put into Carter’s multifaceted portrayal. Chiefly, vulnerability has been key, especially for how it sets Dark Rainbow’s stage. But also…let’s not call this his ‘most personal album to date’, okay? It’s already the kind of junket-approved buzz phrase that should instinctively spur a Pavlovian reaction to believe the exact opposite, and that isn’t befitting of someone like Carter. It’s likely why ‘authentic’ has been used in place of ‘personal’ in most instances, because Carter is an actual human being who can abide by reality in his work, rather than just pay lip service to it.

That’s likely why, to a band that’s sought to indulge in the haunted, insidious minimalism of blues and gothic music on more than a few occasions, Dark Rainbow presents the opportunity to be somewhat more daring with it. With each new inclusion of strings and pianos, the conscious decision to widen the ouevre further is felt, until it reaches what might be The Rattlesnakes’ most cinematic work to date. No joke, with the grand guitar hits bursting through the slow-burning gravities of Man Of The Hour and Can I Take You Home, there’s some legitimate Bond theme energy there. Conversely, any airs and graces are promptly sucked out for the sombre, piano-led one-two of Queen Of Hearts and Sun Bright Golden Happening, in a way that would see a lesser band bring their album’s momentum to a screeching halt. Here, though, the solemnity is perfect, especially as a moment of full, mask-off exhalation when authenticity is the thesis.

It’s worth acknowledging, to that end, that Carter has never felt ‘fake’ in his work. Even in his much-maligned, ‘positive’ interim project Pure Love, just for planting the initial seeds for what would bring unspeakable success with The Rattlesnakes, there was clear human will at the centre. Dark Rainbow, however, really does feel like a considerable step up. There’s something so haggard and disheveled here that Carter sells with such tangible realness, particularly on the more ‘straightforward’ rock songs. They’re more splintered and unsealed, like how the cries of Superstar convey passion and anguish of equally trenchant depths. Self Love is the most revealing, in a mission statement of “If I ever fall in love again / Let me love myself” that retroactively adds that bit more sting to everything that came before. There’s genuine insecurity and self-doubt on full display, as Carter questions whether he can be loved for him, or for his onstage ‘character’ on Man Of The Year. A few tracks later, the sadness behind Sun Bright Golden Happening’s “Our love is as real as the sun” cracks any visage immediately, while the morose, lonely piano behind it delivers the shattering blow.

The idea of confidence really rears itself back up here. Obviously it’s inherent in Carter’s own openness, particularly when he’s never been a stranger to breaking conventions of toxic masculinity that would otherwise lock up that expression. But it’s the way it’s presented as well, comfortably glamourous until it’s not. Can I Take You Home fits that frame perfectly, laced in the swirling prompts of climax that inspire dejection in the form of a Hollywood comedown, breaking within the insulation of a plush, velveteen hotel room. Directly following it is American Spirit, imbued with the spirit of Queens Of The Stone Age that, elsewhere, maybe caps out at a muscular, sand-bitten guitar tone. But then there’s Brambles, broken down to the fundamentals of a bass walk, shuddering guitar and bezels of strings, while also seeming decidedly empty within its mix. It’s all part of the point, assuredly, and where Dark Rainbow properly sets itself up as something special. You can call it a culmination of all previous Rattlesnakes albums as a source of inspiration, or you can read it as the newest stage of a continuously evolving act that, in any other circumstance, would’ve been sitting comfortably for a fair while now.

Maybe it’s too early to call Dark Rainbow The Rattlesnakes’ best album—despite their longevity, they do tend to fall victim to a prisoner-of-the-moment judgement fairly often—but there’s no doubt that it’s right on the money for their overall saga. Everything, from the feel, to the tone, to how quick these songs are to burrow down incessantly, is positioned absolutely perfectly, and arrives exactly as well as you’d want it to. The exhilaration of watching Carter redefine himself as a musician over the last decade or so just keeps giving, with this being one of its most fruitful offerings. Honestly, there’s so much to love here that already feels as though it’ll keep blooming more and more over time; that’s the reality of a Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes album. As for Dark Rainbow in particular…well, can’t you see the confidence?

For fans of: Queens Of The Stone Age, Kid Kapichi, Tigercub

‘Dark Rainbow’ by Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes is released on 26th January on International Death Cult.

Words by Luke Nuttall