Frankie and the Witch Fingers' fifth LP, ZAM, bleeds beyond borders and boundaries. It's opening preternatural sounds bubble up out of the primordial soup, spilling into our world, invading the inner recesses of the listener's mind. Like a two-headed snake wrapped around the skull, the album pendulates between winding instrumentals and dancey riffs that pop like supernovas out of the black void. Just when a song goes one way, it propels another through long stretches of a cosmic inferno. Bringing glimmers of krautrock and funk, it's eleven tracks unleash a versatile and tenacious weight, slithering between the sexy, the aggressive, the vivacious, and the disorienting - until the living invasion is felt - ZAM, a supernatural entity summoned by four madmen obsessed with tearing open a gateway to dark space. After being pulled apart atom-by-atom, the listener is reconfigured on the other side, born unto starry wasteland. Where head is separated from body.