Somewhere outside Los Angeles, where empty highways stretch sun baked and cracking into the distance uninterrupted by the seething mass of humanity huddled on the shoreline just to the west a custom van barrels headlong into the sunset. Mythological scenes of airbrushed ancient evils locked in mortal combat against exaggerated Frazetta-esque physiques adorn the hell-wagon’s side panels, engine roaring against the serenity of the desert as glass panels recoil into metallic doorskins to exhale a thick vapor into the dry air. White knuckled and red eyed the machine’s operator reaches for a glowing phone haphazardly stuffed into a cupholder, gliding a finger over the cracked screen and making a selection without separating gaze from horizon. Electronic signals course through the braided umbilical tethering the device to the wood paneled dashboard and spreading with viral urgency throughout the vehicular nervous system, causing speakers to spasm and woofers to thump. With a heavy drag the operator slides deeper into the seat, the vessel seemingly unglued from reality propelled on the cresting waves of psychedelic chaos radiating from the sound system. This is the sensation of Frankie and the Witch Fingers’ latest record, Monsters Eating People Eating Monsters…
To say that the 21st century has been a fertile breeding ground for psychedelic music would be a colossal understatement. Tame Impala, Thee Oh Sees, Ty Segall, King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard and most recently Frankie and the Witch Fingers among many others have all crafted incredible interpretations of the venerated genre in recent years by injecting influences from a wide range of adjacent styles to maximum effect. Psych rock’s inherent malleability is perhaps the secret to its longevity, evolving and adapting as necessary to fit the voice of the artist and the environment of the times. Frankie and the Witch Fingers take advantage of this to full effect on MEPEM, twisting the structural elements of the genre like a torqued up V8 engine under maximum load. The entire album is a pedal-to-the-metal experience that barely lets up across its 10-track runtime.
The result is a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of sound, similar in structure to its acclaimed predecessor, Zam, but wildly unhinged and electrifyingly unpredictable. Breakneck momentum downshifts into extended jams before launching once again into the stratosphere with the complex mechanical ease of a well-oiled transmission operated under an experienced, albeit paranoid, hand. Even at its slowest moments (which are by no means actually slow), MEPEM feels like something massive and ancient and evil is hot on its heels. The dynamic is not that between predator and prey, but rather a lightspeed contest of endurance pitting humanity against eldritch horrors older than time itself that is simultaneously thrilling and deeply terrifying.
Glancing over into the passenger seat reveals that this is thankfully not a solo trip. There’s a comforting sense of companionship that contributes a much-needed support system preventing MEPEM from becoming psychologically overwhelming. “Gimme your hand, I need to see, where’s your reality” reaches for contact across the center console as “Where’s Your Reality” rips through freakishly distorted consciousness like an early Foo Fighters jam on acid. A comforting voice encourages “maybe you should lie down” over a rolling rhythm on the interlude “Can You Hear Me Now” in an effort to maintain a sense of focus amidst the chaos. These little touches remind that the race isn’t over until its won and the monsters won’t win as long as everyone pulls together.
The title track closes out the experience. “MEPEM” begins as a thick and swampy stomp before building into a thunderhead of sound laced with lightning, undulating tornadoes stretching to the desert floor like thick tentacles hellbent on destruction. A mirror image of the opening track’s explosion of upwards velocity, the final minutes manifest themselves as atmospheric reentry. Sound and fury and fire as the manmade machine hurtles back to earth with no brakes to slow the apocalyptic descent, finite fatality rapidly approaching on the opposite side of the windshield. “What’s gonna happen to all of the people when the world burns and everyone dies?” wails from the speakers as the pavement gives way to a molten abyss just beyond the finish line. The flaming maw consumes all in an explosion of metallic noise, feedback, and screams. Terror takes over and then, blackness. The album is over. The trip concluded. Sweaty and breathless the driver blinks, the machine beneath is still and silent as the sun breaks above the mountains in the rearview mirror. With a turn of the key, the machine comes once again to life. The journey continues with a newfound sense of clarity.
Monsters Eating People Eating Monsters… is out now. Purchase the album from the band’s official site or Bandcamp and stream it on Spotify. Follow Frankie and the Witch Fingers on Instagram.
