"Where isn't there trash?" wonders vocalist-guitarist Dylan Sizemore, as Frankie and the Witch Fingers gather in their practice space in Vernon, CA. "Healthcare is trash, there's garbage in our practice space, trash on the street — you just want to write about what you're seeing, and it's hard not to talk about it."
Naturally, their eight album, Trash Classic (out today via Greenway Records), makes a landfill sweep of rot in all forms: decay, corruption, overindulgence, playful trashiness. Continuing the tech-wary, anti-authoritatian themes of 2023's excellent Data Doom, lively Afrobeat is swapped for synthetic grit, and heaps of dark humour spew out of the dumpster fire.
"Sometimes, when stuff gets dark, all you can do is laugh and have fun, because nothing really matters," says guitarist Josh Menashe, and while Trash Classic tackles heavy topics, it's far from a bummer. The writing process was simple: start with Looney Tunes, end on a candy binge, and fit a lot of freakiness in between. New member Jon Modaff's synths bounce between spacey and sweet, the robots-vs.-humans battle of "Total Reset" ends with a dramatic explosion, and the nskin-crawling "Eggs Laid Brain" has a buzz-fly guitar solo after Sizemore shouts "bug out!"
So naturally, I'm curious to learn why the Witch Fingers are buggin' out right now. Bassist Nikki "Pickle" Smith is excited to "get the fuck out of here and remember what community is about, since shit is pretty bleak at the moment," while the rest of the band stays bitten by the pun bug. "John and I were recently sick and took antibiotics," jokes Menashe. "So we're literally getting the bug out of our bodies."
"There was a spider in my room last night, so I got that bug out," adds drummer Nick Aguilar. Nothing about litterbugs?!
In imagining sci-fi dystopia, sometimes all the inspiration you need is outside your window — and framing society as a campy B movie can make things feel less scary. Menashe equates it to "those Batman movies where the villain is the head of a corporation, with their name on buildings. Then you go to Las Vegas, and, 'Oh! There's the name of our president on a building!' We're not far from that universe."
What's really surreal is how hard Frankie and the Witch Fingers tour. With an average of 80 shows a year, they've rightfully earned the reputation as an ultra-tight, high-energy live band, reflecting the enthusiasm of their rowdy crowds. Earlier this year, they played a whopping 13 shows in five days at SXSW. "It was a bit more than we bargained for," says Pickle, with a knowing grin. "On paper, it sounds so fun — sign us up for every party!" adds Sizemore. "Then you get to every party and realize you don't have as much energy as you thought — but overall, it was fun."
"We almost missed a show because Nick was taking a nap at a friend's house," says Menashe. "He didn't set his alarm, and fell asleep."
"We had to hunt him down!" laughs Pickle.
"Yeah — not one of my finest moments!" says Aguilar. "There were a couple of people who came to almost every show though, which was insane." In typical Witch Fingers fashion, humour and resilience can be found anywhere.
Canadian music lovers know too well how international artists tend to cherry-pick touring the Toronto–Montreal–Vancouver trinity, if not skipping over the country entirely. Frankie and the Witch Fingers stand out as an American band not only eager to play here, but to explore the smaller cities and support our artists as well. They fondly recall hitching a ride to a festival with Tofino punks Wire Eaters, and consider their set at Baie-Saint-Paul's Le Festif! in 2022 as one of their most memorable shows. "It was pouring — we didn't even know if we were gonna play," recalls Menashe. "When the rain let up, they threw some tents up. There was a dude crowdsurfing in a wheelchair — that was the first time that ever happened!"
"We love our Canadian band friends, and we always love going to Canada," says Pickle with enthusiasm. "I think we all agree that Montreal is one of the most fun cities to play. It's such a melting pot, and the scene there is just top notch."
As border tensions rise, many Canadians wonder whether American artists will continue touring here. "I think we're lucky where more of the challenges are coming the other way," shares Menashe. "We really feel for Canadian bands who have to get these expensive visas and have all this trouble coming over the border, whereas it seems to be a lot easier on this side."
"We don't really know what we can do, but any way we can support Canadian bands — we would love to help," adds Pickle. The Witch Fingers have already gone the extra mile: bringing Canadian artists on tour has not only boosted international recognition, but bridged Canadian psych music into the global scene.
Juliana Carlevaris of Toronto's Hot Garbage toured with the Witch Fingers in 2022, and describes them as accommodating and generous. "They've been touring through Canada for a long time, and still make an effort to do so when many other bands don't," she says. "I respect bands that don't overlook Canada. There aren't many big markets up here, but a ton of artists putting out very good music."
One such band is Montreal's Population II, who will be joining the Witch Fingers for half of their North American tour. "In the current political climate, it's very important that scenes support each other," says Population II's guitarist/keyboardist Tristan Lacombe, "It's even nicer coming from an American band. We're both holding onto the old punk idea that we must stick together and help likeminded people."
In the modern psych scene, progressive and caring community springs naturally from music with the ethos of challenging awareness, stepping outside the ordinary, and waving your freak flag high. But as Levitation festival arrives each fall in Austin, it's easy to forget that the psych originators behind its namesake — 13th Floor Elevators and their song "(I've Got) Levitation" — were persecuted in their time for being radical. Maybe most modern psychedelic music isn't explicitly political, but its origins make it inherently so; when the world is turning backwards, perhaps it's time to recharge it with some of that original meaning.
"I think community is the antidote for everything," shares Pickle emphatically. "This year has crystallized the fact that we cannot rely on our government to take care of us, so the best and most useful thing we can do is be there for each other. For us in the music industry, we get to see the best parts of that when we tour and see people who are part of our community all over the world. That's very heartening, because when you're on social media, it looks bleak. We read the news, it looks bleak. But when you see people face to face, and you have a human interaction with them — people coming together over a shared love of something — that's the antidote to it all."
As trash piles up, sometimes the most radical thing to do is to keep thriving. "I feel like we have challenges that every band has, but overall, we're super lucky," says Sizemore. "Every year gets crazier. We get to play to more people, put out more vinyl, and we're doing all the things we want. I don't have to work a day job, and all the dreams I've had are coming true."
If Trash Classic takes inspiration from our rotting world, maybe we can take some inspiration from its steadfast energy and playfulness. I ask the band what challenges they face in creating, and their advice feels widely relevant. "Sometimes it's easy to get discouraged," says Aguilar. "If you hit a wall, you just have to accept it, sleep on it, and then the next day will hopefully be better."