King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard – K.G.
I know I came here to do something.
There must’ve been some good reason for me to draw all over this eggshell page with intricate English mosaic, or else what am I doing? Am I losing my mind? My touch? If I’m not here for any good reason, or any reason at all for that matter, what’s the point of cracking my mouth open to begin with?
None at all?
Well I wish you could’ve told that to the band with one of the longest winning streaks ever before they tripped and fell down ten flights of floating stairs for forty-one minutes and forty-nine seconds.
Speaking only to bands of the 21st century (my millennia of expertise), King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard had one of the most unanimously successful and prolific outputs I’ve ever seen. (A couple scarce EPs – one not so scarce – 16 albums, and two pressed live albums since 2010. Five of those 16 full-lengths were released in one year, 2017.) The only machine that can crank them out like that is run by John Dwyer, who remains, in my spineless book, undefeated since the early 2000s with his incarnations of Thee Oh Sees, and is the likely reason Gizzard is even a band to begin with.
That being said, Gizzard have carved their own unique path with rich narratives and a seven (now six) headed ensemble that play out like Hamlet in the Thunderdome. I would call them the face of Australian music and founders of the hottest neighborhood of garages on Earth right now. (I find it worth noting that if you think the face of “music: Australia” is Kevin Parker and Tame Impala you need to go for a jog and sweat the small stuff.) Anything that has real instruments and is from the land of wallabies and other make-believe creatures already has a leg of respect going for it. As far as I’m concerned, Gizzard could quit now and still go down in history. Even if they keep going and do their worst, I think their best will outweigh it all substantially. So now that the sycophantics are out of the way, this new album/compilation/crutch/bone of theirs sucks big time. I mean it actually made me angry as I listened to it. It is completely thoughtless and overwrought with blindfolded paddy-cake-half-bakery. It’s like they scraped the crud off of every member’s cerebrum, micro-toned the mucous membrane, and then blew “Ravi Shankar Kush” into each other’s orifices until they forgot which way the beach was. When they woke up, they were on the studio floor which was covered with an array of Eastern tapestries. One of the members must have accidentally clicked the send button as they were using the desk where the computer with the song files was to hoist themselves off the floor. I’m willing to negate any contention that this work of theirs was anywhere near finished or intentional and the only explanation for it reaching us is a trance caused by Ravi Shankar Kush. Although the lead single “Honey” isn’t that bad.
Do I smell a gas leak?
I know I came here for something…
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard