Father Finger are redolent of a lot of viciously bad acts, yet fall victim to none of the pitfalls of the gal-and-a-beat-machine rigamarole. Their self-titled cassette on Not Not Fizzie is so bright and ambitious you could argue FF belong on a different platform altogether, like Sir Dougeth Hauser MD or Blanche Blanche Blanche. Sure that’s a beat machine pumpin’ out the ace base, but it’s high-octane and gallops like a steed over the audio mountaintop. Sure you’ve heard a lot of synths lately, but these are more neon-green than what you’re used to, and you’ll get lost in the layers besides. Think video-game composers, house/disco, Labrador Recs, glow sticks, your boombox melting into the hot sidewalk, and an electronickz club you may or may not have snipped some rug at in the late 1990s. Hot.