Guitar bands may be having a hard time in most of the world, but in Australia they’re booming. From the huge success of Tame Impala to the live phenomenon of the lairy punks Amyl and the Sniffers, it’s all happening for rock’n’roll down under. The hardest-working bunch of the lot are King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard.
Despite having a name that sounds as if it was thought up by a ten-year-old in detention, King Gizzard are a far-reaching, sophisticated proposition. Emerging from Melbourne in 2010 and led by a hyperactive former heavy metal fan called Stu Mackenzie, they have found ways of being productive with whatever was at their disposal: much of their 2012 debut album, 12 Bar Bruise, was recorded on a series of iPhones. From there they learnt that there was no reason to stick to one genre or style. Their 2014 breakout hit I’m in Your Mind Fuzz was heavy, distorted psychedelic rock; a year later they came back with a sweet collection of childlike sunshine pop called Paper Mâché Dream Balloon. Then they made five albums in a year. “I realise it’s a problem I have,” Mackenzie says, somewhat understating his hysterical work ethic.
Now, after passing through thrash metal to electronic futurism, King Gizzard have settled into a style that you imagine is close to their hearts: old-fashioned boogie and country rock with the odd funky touch, like Creedence Clearwater jamming with the Meters. “Where softer souls do sleep in the hush of morning’s glow,” the drummer Michael Cavanagh sings poetically on Le Risque, “I rest not, I cannot. I just go.”
There are precedents here. A less louche and druggy Rolling Stones circa Exile on Main St come to mind, alongside touches of the Band’s country rock and Big Star’s power-pop urgency. The main feeling, though, is of a band who are completely at ease with themselves and the music they make. They recorded the whole thing in two weeks, without thinking too deeply about anything, leading to no shortage of speedy riffs, unpolished vocal harmonies and basic, insistent rhythms, all held together by a rambunctious spirit. Mirage City is delightful for its earthy, country feel; Antarctica for its New Orleans soul touches. The song that really sums up this summery album is a blast of harmonica-laden joy called Raw Feel. Proof, were it needed, that rock’n’roll is alive and well — in Australia at least. (p(doom) Records)
★★★★☆
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