The future may be uncertain, but some constants seem to always ring true: water will be wet, the sky will be blue, the world will be fucked and Frankie and the Witch Fingers will come to conjure sonic chaos. Many a manic sidewalk sermonist has held a reverb-heavy microphone to spread wide-eyed proclamations of the end times, and on their seventh studio album, the Los Angeles-via-Indiana psych rockers do just that — albeit with much greater musical finesse. The dawn of digital dystopia is nigh, and on Data Doom, Frankie and the Witch Fingers walk the line between chameleonic and commanding, wielding endless inventiveness as a weapon to outsmart artificial intelligence.
Creativity is amplified by collaboration on the self-produced Data Doom, infusing the album with a tightly woven DIY intensity. Behind a decade of lineup changes, founding members Dylan Sizemore and Josh Menashe have sharpened their songwriting, now with Nikki "Pickle" Smith's (formerly Death Valley Girls) assertive basslines and Nick Aguilar's (formerly Mike Watt) virtuosic drumming adding weighty power. Zig-zagging "Burn Me Down," the first song written by the revamped four-piece, proves the natural flow of their musical chemistry. The result is rhythmically intense, effortlessly moving along the spectrum of heavy psych and Afrobeat at a breakneck pace, an adrenaline rush reaction to the primal anxiety triggered by the threat of a computerized future.
Much like how the entirety of 2017's Brain Telephone asked us to pick up, turn on and tune in to how psychedelics unshackle our minds, Data Doom is insistent in its doomsday wake-up call. Opening epic "Empire" is colossal in all aspects, its majestic harmonized riff channeling the machismo of a gladiatorial match as Sizemore sneers at tech gods bent on building an empire of destruction. Gang vocal chants of "Uh huh, I see what you mean" equally echo the brainwashed masses and sarcastic dissent against technological facism. The song's eight minutes of jammy, heavy psych showcase what Frankie and the Witch Fingers do best on Data Doom: soaring melodies that bleed into walls of distortion, then pivot to cerebral, intricate riffing, only to turn a corner when least expected, consistently adventurous and captivating.
On "Empire" and elsewhere, '70s avant-jazz, Zamrock and Afrobeat are introduced to the witches brew, amplifying the energy twofold when combined with equally rousing punky psych. Fela Kuti's influence seeps through syncopated guitar and propulsive drums, with Aguilar channeling Tony Allen through clever solos and fills. Held together by Pickle's funk-driven rumble, "Mild Davis" is anything but mild, marching to the beat of 7/4 and twisting with spontaneity in tribute to its almost-titular inspiration. Wah-heavy moments of "Doom Boom" and "Syster System" put the W.I.T.C.H. in Witch Fingers, and the presence of congas, shakers and saxophone adds texture and interest. Experimental jazz and Afrobeat artists have long crossed over into psych with their shared commitment to chaos, and it's refreshing to see an American band explore this territory.
It's that mind-bending chaos that prevails in the blistering, wired moments of Data Doom. Standout "Futurephobic" opens with jittery Moog and a monstrous riff backing Sizemore's appropriately robotic warning that "The wired beast / Claims another empty host / To get you where you are." The fangs sink in a headrush of feral, moshpit-forming energy, dissolving into haunting Mellotron as Sizemore invites in falsetto to "Come ye witness the intended marketing / Dopamine spiking." Music that criticizes the modern age runs the risk of verging on Van Morrison-core "Why Are You on Facebook?" boomerisms, but thankfully Data Doom avoids this entirely. "Futurephobic" brings palpable horror to its algorithm wariness with an atmosphere as unsettling as an AI-generated portrait that may at first seem human, but becomes increasingly warped the longer you stare. High-voltage "Electricide" refuses to let the "electric eye" feed us "electric pesticide," and it's far from curmudgeonly — more like a battle cry in the humans vs. computers evolutionary arms race. Though sonically heavy, Data Doom centers more on doom than gloom — it's a call to arms rather than resigned damnation.
"I still believe in the human race / Does anyone else ever feel this way?" Sizemore pleads on "Electricide," then presents a possible cure for the masculine urge to exert power via technology — have we tried being a bit more feminine? Inspired by futurist Riane Eisler's book The Chalice and the Blade, sleek, groovy album highlight "Syster System" presents an alternative "partnership culture" where feminine energy symbiotic with nature subdues the "Brothers out here making war / We don't need him anymore." Swaggering, angular riffs melt into a wah-heavy, massive chorus with synths fit for 1958 sci-fi B-film Queen of Outer Space, accelerating in intensity before returning to its groove. It's warped, proggy psych with a bite, and it's one of Frankie and the Witch Fingers' most compelling songs. If the future is in our hands, why not link them together?
The relatively lighter sides of Data Doom wink with hope that maybe we're not entirely powerless. Sizemore's panicked yell is subdued on "Doom Boom," where a bubbly riff bounces between instruments, and "feelings of a plant with no light" are undercut with a "wreeeoooww" mimicking an airplane crash. The falsetto count-in of "Political Cannibalism" playfully introduces flanged synths that wobble over Pickle's syncopated bass, a warped no wave groove at odds with its dismal topic. Frankie and the Witch Fingers have rarely sounded tighter and more inventive as they do on Data Doom, kicking against a desensitized world with sharpened musical sensibilities. The future may look bleak, but Frankie and the Witch Fingers march toward it boldly on their most complex and intense album to date. It's far from AI-generated.
(Greenway Records)Creativity is amplified by collaboration on the self-produced Data Doom, infusing the album with a tightly woven DIY intensity. Behind a decade of lineup changes, founding members Dylan Sizemore and Josh Menashe have sharpened their songwriting, now with Nikki "Pickle" Smith's (formerly Death Valley Girls) assertive basslines and Nick Aguilar's (formerly Mike Watt) virtuosic drumming adding weighty power. Zig-zagging "Burn Me Down," the first song written by the revamped four-piece, proves the natural flow of their musical chemistry. The result is rhythmically intense, effortlessly moving along the spectrum of heavy psych and Afrobeat at a breakneck pace, an adrenaline rush reaction to the primal anxiety triggered by the threat of a computerized future.
Much like how the entirety of 2017's Brain Telephone asked us to pick up, turn on and tune in to how psychedelics unshackle our minds, Data Doom is insistent in its doomsday wake-up call. Opening epic "Empire" is colossal in all aspects, its majestic harmonized riff channeling the machismo of a gladiatorial match as Sizemore sneers at tech gods bent on building an empire of destruction. Gang vocal chants of "Uh huh, I see what you mean" equally echo the brainwashed masses and sarcastic dissent against technological facism. The song's eight minutes of jammy, heavy psych showcase what Frankie and the Witch Fingers do best on Data Doom: soaring melodies that bleed into walls of distortion, then pivot to cerebral, intricate riffing, only to turn a corner when least expected, consistently adventurous and captivating.
On "Empire" and elsewhere, '70s avant-jazz, Zamrock and Afrobeat are introduced to the witches brew, amplifying the energy twofold when combined with equally rousing punky psych. Fela Kuti's influence seeps through syncopated guitar and propulsive drums, with Aguilar channeling Tony Allen through clever solos and fills. Held together by Pickle's funk-driven rumble, "Mild Davis" is anything but mild, marching to the beat of 7/4 and twisting with spontaneity in tribute to its almost-titular inspiration. Wah-heavy moments of "Doom Boom" and "Syster System" put the W.I.T.C.H. in Witch Fingers, and the presence of congas, shakers and saxophone adds texture and interest. Experimental jazz and Afrobeat artists have long crossed over into psych with their shared commitment to chaos, and it's refreshing to see an American band explore this territory.
It's that mind-bending chaos that prevails in the blistering, wired moments of Data Doom. Standout "Futurephobic" opens with jittery Moog and a monstrous riff backing Sizemore's appropriately robotic warning that "The wired beast / Claims another empty host / To get you where you are." The fangs sink in a headrush of feral, moshpit-forming energy, dissolving into haunting Mellotron as Sizemore invites in falsetto to "Come ye witness the intended marketing / Dopamine spiking." Music that criticizes the modern age runs the risk of verging on Van Morrison-core "Why Are You on Facebook?" boomerisms, but thankfully Data Doom avoids this entirely. "Futurephobic" brings palpable horror to its algorithm wariness with an atmosphere as unsettling as an AI-generated portrait that may at first seem human, but becomes increasingly warped the longer you stare. High-voltage "Electricide" refuses to let the "electric eye" feed us "electric pesticide," and it's far from curmudgeonly — more like a battle cry in the humans vs. computers evolutionary arms race. Though sonically heavy, Data Doom centers more on doom than gloom — it's a call to arms rather than resigned damnation.
"I still believe in the human race / Does anyone else ever feel this way?" Sizemore pleads on "Electricide," then presents a possible cure for the masculine urge to exert power via technology — have we tried being a bit more feminine? Inspired by futurist Riane Eisler's book The Chalice and the Blade, sleek, groovy album highlight "Syster System" presents an alternative "partnership culture" where feminine energy symbiotic with nature subdues the "Brothers out here making war / We don't need him anymore." Swaggering, angular riffs melt into a wah-heavy, massive chorus with synths fit for 1958 sci-fi B-film Queen of Outer Space, accelerating in intensity before returning to its groove. It's warped, proggy psych with a bite, and it's one of Frankie and the Witch Fingers' most compelling songs. If the future is in our hands, why not link them together?
The relatively lighter sides of Data Doom wink with hope that maybe we're not entirely powerless. Sizemore's panicked yell is subdued on "Doom Boom," where a bubbly riff bounces between instruments, and "feelings of a plant with no light" are undercut with a "wreeeoooww" mimicking an airplane crash. The falsetto count-in of "Political Cannibalism" playfully introduces flanged synths that wobble over Pickle's syncopated bass, a warped no wave groove at odds with its dismal topic. Frankie and the Witch Fingers have rarely sounded tighter and more inventive as they do on Data Doom, kicking against a desensitized world with sharpened musical sensibilities. The future may look bleak, but Frankie and the Witch Fingers march toward it boldly on their most complex and intense album to date. It's far from AI-generated.