Frankie and the Witch Fingers – ZAM
ZAM bring the doomsday clock to high noon and the world is set ablaze, courtesy of Frankie and the Witch Fingers
There's no place on our hunk of spinning space-rock that Frankie and the Witch Fingers' seismic sonics leave in peace on their latest full-length ZAM. The bruised and battered lo-fi of their past still exists in glimmers, but a cleaner sheen has been embraced, which ensures that every note of luminance they strike gleams with a tenfold brightness.
ZAM is no better encapsulated than with the roman candle of Pleasure. From moment one, the funked-out 70s shindig spreads swift like a fever, and soon things turn from lava lamp to volcanic volley. This groovy new edge for the garage-quartet works with their original modus operandi, and for a move that could have fallen flat, they are rewarded for their gamble with a towering stack of chips.
Moments of exhilaration and surprise amass in great bounties. Unexpected twists like the silky final act of Realization, the bluesy amuse-bouche of I Am before the main feast of Underneath You, the snake-charming psych-dance-punk of Dracula Drug, and Head Collector’s lulling diminuendo showcase their playfulness with structure and their supreme grasp of craft.
Their adoption of a more crystalline sound may dispel loyalists but this marks a defining moment in their trajectory. They've produced an album that is both an expansion and a refinement on what has come prior; broader in its scope, maturer in its delivery, and braver in its exploration. In a word: sha-fucking-ZAM!
Listen to: Pleasure, Cobwebs, Dracula Drug