REVIEW: Frankie and the Witch Fingers Deliver a Mighty Performance at Lark Hall

Oct 16

10/11 @ Lark Hall, Albany

“Some hopped, some moshed, some headbanged, but nobody was still. They transformed a few hundred folks into a writhing mass of joy.”

Have you ever unplugged something and slipped your thumb between the prongs by accident? First, your thumb starts to shake to the beat of the electricity, then your heart starts to race, and then your human brain shuts off so your amphibious ancestors can bellow from the back of your head to get moving. Strangely enough, that's about how it felt to be at the foot of the stage in Lark Hall for the Frankie and the Witch Fingers gig this past Saturday. Undeniable momentum was thrust upon the audience by dangerous forces outside of their control.

To start, I've got to give a lot of love to Digital Awareness. The Boston-based projectionist crew added a freaked out mysticism to the event (complete with matching cultist red jumpsuits!). The squirming fields of noise they cast over every flat surface in the room would've made Lovecraft's knees shake. Think the Matrix crawl, but if the movie was set in the Summer of Love. I still can't wrap my head around exactly what they were doing, but I know two things: hijinx were involved and it set a rock solid foundation for an evening of psych rock.

First up were local psych heroes, Sun Natives. Big amps, fuzz pedals, dripping reverb, and heavy drops got the crowd moving. Some danced, some swayed, and most steadily dropped their heads in time with the beat. I've seen Sun Natives a few times and what’s most impressive is that every set from them feels simultaneously unique and tight. It’s easy to get lost in the wash of sound and suddenly come to when the cables are being wound up and the cases loaded. They aren't one of the many fly by night psych acts that have graced our local stages then blown away in the wind—they're a powerhouse that have spent years sharpening their set into something precise and commanding.

Population II is a band that always existed in my peripherals. They’ve been recommended on a Creem playlist, appeared on a Bandcamp feature, or were shot by one of my concert photographer friends. To be a little vulnerable with you fine folks reading this – I REALLY blew it by waiting so long to see them. They instantly became one of my favorite live bands. Prog and psych are genres where many bands will seek to overwhelm, so it was refreshing seeing a three-piece put on such an intricate and delicately instrumented set. The bassist did triple duty on a standard bass, an eight-string, and a Rheem bass synth. The guitarist played a 12-string, a synth, and a piece of 1970s audio test equipment like a theremin. It was the first time I've ever thought a drummer on vocals got off easy, especially considering the other two were leaping across the stage with guitars in hand. I could've watched them unplugged and still left satisfied. The most impressive part was that their calmer and softer sections kept me just as enthralled as their bombastic crescendos. They sounded like Live at Pompeii-era Pink Floyd after shotgunning a Celsius. Just as jammy, just as trippy, but compressed into five minute chunks of unrelenting sound.

Last—and mightiest—were Frankie and the Witch Fingers, who got every person in the crowd moving in a different direction. Some hopped, some moshed, some headbanged, but nobody was still. They transformed a few hundred folks into a writhing mass of joy. Everyone came to the show for their own reasons, but the folks in FATWF unified them in movement. With their latest release Trash Classic, they've taken a turn into Devo territory. Blaring synths that sound like a Christmas gift from Radio Shack; deep, repetitive, but instantly groovy basslines; tight and fast machine-like drums; Black Flag guitars, and a bespectacled vocalist who seems meek until he hits the microphone, all congealed into something completely uniquely jagged but attention grabbing. They had speed that would make a powerviolence band blush, grooves that would put some funk bands to shame, and enough tripped out psychedelia to keep a Phish head happy. My only regret of the set was not being able to shoot photos from the center of the mosh pit.

All in all, Dive Presents knocked it out of the park again. It was a perfect night with enthralling visuals in a venue that, despite its historical pedigree, has certainly never seen a show like this one. In the words of Dive, "Go to shows." You might even be lucky enough to catch one as fun as this.