L.A. Witch is a cool band. Having established themselves as purveyors of rhythmic, reverb heavy rock n roll steeped in heady noir, the Los Angeles power trio exude a tangible aura that is immediately recognizable yet difficult to define. Seductive and smoky in an irresistibly hypnotizing manner that beckons from the shadow of the back booth with a potent combination of high style and heavy substance. The band’s 2018 EP, Octubre, gave a tantalizing glimpse into the energetic new direction their sound was beginning to take by revisiting their earliest tracks with fresh perspectives. That newfound sense of vitality revs the engine on their sophomore LP, Play With Fire, like a gassed up custom motorcycle, embracing wild freedom with resolute confidence and fearless abandon.
Kicking off with an explosion of momentum, “Fire Starter” establishes Play With Fire as a different beast than L.A. Witch’s previous releases. The familiar bones are still there, but the internal structure has been fleshed out with sleek new musculature and whip-tight sinew. Motorik percussion pushes forward as enthusiastic basslines bounce around the frame, expanding into double-vision desert vistas punctuated by high, chiming guitar licks. The clarity present in these opening minutes is perhaps the most defining element of this new record. The clouds of hazy smoke that lay thick over their debut album have all but burned away under the unyielding heat of the sun to reveal the teeming, textural humanity underneath.
L.A. Witch bring a wide variety of musical persuasions into play as the album progresses. There is a surprising amount of almost spaghetti western influence across several tracks, simmering just beneath the surface on the galloping ode to classically rebellious heartthrobs, “Motorcycle Boy,” and taking center stage on “Maybe The Weather” as a creaky guitar riff sends sonic tumbleweeds bounding across dusty streets. The expert way in which L.A. Witch draws inspiration from the same kind of steely-eyed romance that defines classic cinema to build sonic set pieces for modern, personal narratives may be one of the band’s strongest talents. There’s a Venn diagram that connects Sam Spade, The Man With No Name, and Jim Stark and where the three overlap is the genesis of L.A. Witch’s magic.
Also of note is the depth in which the band immerses themselves in the muscular, organic aesthetics of grunge-era hard rock. The rolling, haunted acoustic riff on “Dark Horse” feels like it would have been right at home nestled deep in the early discography of Screaming Trees or a paired up on the b-side with a chart-topping single on a mid-1990s Soundgarden 7”. “Starred” closes the album out with a bramble of gnarled, untamed feedback and distortion so thick you can almost smell the flannel, conjuring the ghost of Kurt Cobain direct from the muddy banks of the Wishkah before dissolving into the electronic ether of extraterrestrial radio pulses coursing the Milky Way lightyears above the towering shadows of Pacific Northwest pines.
For all of L.A. Witch’s obsession with the past, Play With Fire has plenty of zeitgeist moments, and it is impossible to ignore the impact current events have had on the band’s perspective. Largely constructed in the first two months of 2020 amidst the looming specter of COVID-19 and cumulating nationwide social unrest, Play With Fire is shot through with an electric urgency as if the band were staring down a rapidly approaching tsunami. “I Wanna Lose” positions the band as willing martyrs on the front lines of a resistance that springs forth from the inner persona while the confrontational “True Believers” boldly takes a swing at bandwagon-jumping fair-weather advocates while declaring personal independence from the parroted platitudes of blind allegiance to political platforms.
This adherence to a creed of fierce independence and a dedicated reliance on personal resilience has long been a core tenant of L.A. Witch’s philosophy. While “True Believers” applies this to wider issues the band feels most at home when the focus is tightened in on smaller, more intimate applications. “Sexorexia” details an intimacy starved protagonist walking away from the emotional drain of negative actors. “I’ve been hanging around my own head for much too long, I’ve been walking around with the dead for far too long” simmers with nervous energy like late stage cabin fever before breaking out into a massive gang-vocal shout-along hook that galvanizes personal liberty in a mosh pit of independence.
Continuing to call out social ills, L.A. Witch express frustration at the two-dimensional obsession with surface level representation that pervades social media culture on the monotone and menacing “Gen-Z,” skewering social media addicts with pounding, measured percussion and a menacing bassline as Sade drolly intones “are your motives pure and free? Has the world fulfilled your needs? With your head aimed at the ground you continue to perceive” with glassy eyed detachment. Taking it one step further, “Starred” levies criticism at overexposed social media influencers permanently marked by the scar of the blue check mark with the same kind of focused rage that Courtney Love blisteringly attacked tabloid celebrity culture in the 1990s. “You shine bright, maybe too bright” whips around in a whirlwind of razorblade riffs as Irita and Ellie rain percussive blows in mechanical lockstep.
Play With Fire is the sound of an already thrilling young band expanding their sound in dynamic directions. Building upon influences old and new, L.A. Witch try on a closetful of different styles in the process of further developing their own unique musical identity. It’s a modern record steeped in tradition that feels like it exists at the perfect moment in time.
‘Play With Fire’ is available now on Suicide Squeeze. Follow L.A. Witch on Instagram and stream the album on Spotify or purchase on LP, CD, cassette, or digital on Bandcamp
