By: Matt Butler
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard | facebook | bandcamp |
Many have wasted pages of ink or internet space arguing whether King Gizzard and his magical reptilian mate are a ‘real’ band. They can’t be, claim some: they have a silly name and sound as if they’re high as kites. Others are put off by the fact they sound like they are having too much bloody fun – hell, they’ve even described themselves as a joke band: as if rock ‘n’ roll is supposed to be serious.
Well guess what? The naysayers can go and get stuffed. Because on this evidence, the septet from Melbourne are a real band. One that have ideas of their own and the ability to come up with original ones. And true to their five previous albums, their latest effort, Quarters, is a different trip to the last one. Or the one before that. Or the one before that.
To those who enjoyed the band’s last offering, the frequently frenetic I’m In Your Mind Fuzz, with its trance-inducing first side comprising of a garage-rock-cum-wacked-out-psychedelia medley, this album is far more relaxed; one for the barbecue the afternoon after the big night out, if you like. In fact it continues nicely in tempo and feel from ‘Her and I (slow jam 2)’, the final song on Mind Fuzz.
There are some subtle musical witticisms, such as the four songs in Quarters being of exactly the same length (geddit?) and ‘Infinite Rise’ beginning with what sounds like a cartoon whistle going up in tone for … well, almost forever, but a laconic swagger permeates the whole album. It sounds like it was recorded outside on a sunny spring afternoon in a field of daisies near a stream, in the same vein as the seminal southern English folk band Heron’s debut over 40 years ago. And it has a similar stoned smile plastered across it as the near-forgotten Dorset group did.
It begins with the lounge-y ‘The River’, which, apart from its swinging beat, has a couple of guitar solos that are either mind expanding or noodly, depending on your mood.
‘Infinite Rise’, following the aforementioned crescendo, is comprised of rhyming couplet after rhyming couplet (“night light, no right, one more, what’s it for, bound together, like boys in leather”, etc, etc) that brings to mind some of Beck’s more innocent moments.
‘God is in the Rhythm’, the third quarter, is a 10-minute earworm, if such a thing exists. With little more than a reverbed guitar, drums and falsetto vocals, it is sunnier than Noosa in January.
‘Lonely Steel Sheet Flyer’ goes a bit Spaghetti Western on us, before easing into what sounds like an outtake from ‘Endless Summer’ the classic 60s surf movie.
Speaking of which, this is an ideal album for summer, if your idea of a good time is lounging and imbibing in a hammock somewhere green. It’s lots of fun. Which, by the way, does not preclude King Gizzard from being a real band. Even if they say they aren’t.
