Frankie & The Witch Fingers

Created in recording sessions fuelled by late-night candy binges & full-volume cartoons, 'Trash Classic'’s unrelenting energy & acidic hooks will damn near rot your teeth! A torrent of clipped, driving rhythms, fuzzy guitar riffs & mind-wobbling synths, their blaring psych-punk doubled our pulse rates & tripled our grins.

If bands consecutively put out essential records, how can us Dinked folk possibly turn them down? Hence, we have our 3rd exclusive edition from Frankie & The Witch Fingers…

***We're especially excited about the bonus flexi: Worldwide, there are 3 special editions of this album that feature their own exclusive flexi variant. True fans will need to collect all 3 to complete the full image!***

'Trash Classic' marks a feral mutation for Frankie and the Witch Fingers—a record that snarls with proto-punk venom, angular melodies, and electronic textures that cough and sputter like dying neon lights under a poisoned sky. This record pushes the Witch Fingers’ sound to a razor's edge. Wiry and twitching, it bends into synth-punk and fractured new wave, with fragments of industrial grime caked under its nails. Guitars detonate and slice like cinderblocks through glass, while gnashing basslines slither through the sludge, alive and seething. Buzzy synths take the forefront, driving relentless rhythms that crack and pop, drenched in a chemically saturated sheen—part bug-eyed speed-freak pogo, part dance floor delirium. The vocals cut through like static-laced transmissions—balancing both smirk and sneer—layering playful unease over themes of escapism, decay, and overindulgence.

The songs were born in the grime of Vernon, Los Angeles — a wasteland littered with gutted RVs and rusting machinery, where the air tastes like asphalt and dog food. But the real alchemy happened in Oakland, at Tiny Telephone Studios, where producer Maryam Qudus (La Luz, Spacemoth) helped transmute the tracks into their final forms. Unhinged tones, unconventional recording experiments, and wild sonic detours transformed the songs into something alive and unpredictable.

Every day of recording began with cartoons blaring at full volume — a Looney Tunes ritual that turned the madness of the recording process into something almost childlike. Late at night, sugar-fueled candy binges kept the energy spiking, pushing the sessions into a fever dream of jittery playfulness.

The result is a raw, twisted monument to rot and excess—toxic glamour and nihilistic salvation. Trash Classic isn’t just a record; it’s an auditory dumpster bible—a gutter gospel for those ready to dive into its filth.