Trash Classic

Pre-Order Item. Release Date Subject to Change.
Label: RAS/Greenway
Release Date: 6th June

Frankie and their Witch Fingers are back with some frenetic proto-punk-garage-rock-synth jammers.

For those who dig: OSEES, Ty Segall, King Gizz... you know what I mean.

Hooks so infectious they rot on impact. 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, spastic 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.