AUSSIE psych rock outfit ‘King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’ have charged it up a gear with new release ‘Paper Mache Dream Balloon’, which, as the title suggests, sounds like a hallucination-provoking Jules Verne animation friendly acid trip.
With a reputation for productiveness that could unseat The Brian Jonestown Massacre from their prolific crown, the band’s seventh album in three years sees them embrace the woodwind section of the orchestra and ditch their previously heavy, conceptual works.
Recorded mostly in an empty shipping container on frontman Stu Mackenzie’s parents farm, the record was recorded in-between curating their own festival and building their own studio. Images of dancing emus and horses float into vision at every turn, such is the depth and colour contained within the 12 flute and acoustic guitar centred gems.
To offer a lazy reference to fellow countrymen Tame Impala would be an injustice, as King Gizzard resemble a more Flaming Lips/Jethro Tull offspring, sprinkled with Forever Changes-esque love to even The Doors a la Morrison Hotel.
The rich, jazzy, 60’s melancholy feels as if it would be more welcome in the Woodstock era as opposed to any Glastonbury landscape, the latter of which they played earlier this year within their extensive European tour. A bit like watching a black and white film through a kaleidoscope.
Opener ‘Sense’ wraps its flurry arms round you as Mackenzie’s whispery vocal “I know it’s recognizable but it don’t make no sense at all” slides along behind floaty clarinets and chilled out pianos in perfect juxtaposition.
Skip along ‘Bone’ continues the bouncy and unabashed feel, with driving drumlines and guitars adding to the groove, while ‘Dirt’ sees the combination of wood and strings reach a melodic climax.
‘Paper Mache Dream Balloon’ takes us further into dream land, as the band’s dual drummers in Eric Moore and Michael Cavanagh come into their own, behind Mackenzie’s fanciful lyrics; “Stuck in a day dream under a moonbeam”.
The frenetic pace of first single ‘Trapdoor’ darkens the tone Hitchcock-esque, as we are treated to an eerie quirkiness not too dissimilar to The Who’s Boris the Spider, as ‘Cold Cadaver’ transports us back into Magic Roundabout friendly lucidity, although the title would suggest otherwise.
Standout track ‘Bitter Boogie’s’, fuelled by Ambrose Kenny Smith’s punchy jazz-like harmonica, unashamedly rips off Stevie Wonder’s Higher Ground to great effect, finishing with Mackenzie’s sleazy, drunken vocal that sounds more like a Louisiana preacher’s call.
Closing instrumental track ‘Paper Mache’ allows us to pause and reflect on an inspiring plethora of pure, experimental jazzy numbers, that, up against King Gizzard’s previous work to date, marks a welcome, ambitious departure.
I guess, giving the band’s track record, we won’t need wait too long to see if they explore other genres on their next album. Here’s hoping.