King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard present their 4th album, ‘Oddments’, through Flightless Baby Records. When people think of psychedelic, they think of bamboozling conundrums of gobbledegook which through sound makes vision, and through vision makes a period of transcendence. This band embody that feeling; the feeling of forgetting yourself and walking into a sun only certain songs, played in certain locations loud in the headphones of certain people could conjure.
‘Alluda Majaka’, the first track, is the perfect introduction to what our minds think of when the music takes over. A total flush of colour that penetrates every surface with a pinch, a twist, and a turn that morphs back and forth into an unlimited stream of vibrancy. Organs heavy, bass funky; if cowboys existed in the future dressed in paisley, enjoying every minute of life, this would soundtrack such a scene. The bombast of bass and drums, heavy and heaving above instrumentation that can only be described as berserk in every sense of the word push this strange song into some serious shapes only elastic bands and pretty patterns could hope to wriggle into. It feels like a slight release from all the screwball assaults on the senses as ‘Stressin’, offers a much calmer but equally confusing sensation. It’s a song for walking home to unsure of where such a place is. A high-pitched vocal, delayed and decaying guides the song that never grows, simply standing still witnessing the world as it is. A fuzzy guitar line, aching to be heard, manages to free itself from the rusted shackles and play on with hypnotic charm. Messy and amazing it leads the groove to its natural resting place; the footsteps of somewhere only the mind has the keys to.

Next, ‘Vegemite’, which howls with a frustrated and fruitful vocal sung childish and sinister, psychedelic and tormented in the face of a smiling stalker. The metallic surfaces stuck into the sand catching a glimpse of the glaring sun that situates itself high above the streets of a city stained with colours invented by the eyes seeing things they shouldn’t. Harmonies, although robotic, are beautiful as they march together, unified in unison in a delicious song sharing traits of sweet and sour, good equalised with evil. It never gets old, as though the listener is watching evolution take place before their very eyes, a constant reinventing of the wheel that only knows how to drive forward. However, It’s Got Old’, is probably the most straight-forward song on the album. A simplistic diary entry that encompasses moments of simpler times, relationships that turn stale when the bed is always vacant, and the ‘somebody’ you would die for, becomes ‘just anybody’ you’d dream of. The moment before the sleeping pills kick in, or the painkillers start to numb the senses that dictate our instincts as humans, not as individuals. Cool as fuck, short enough to end before you realize its madness, its quality, its clarity.
‘Work This Time’ , is the tune where the state of mind only synthetic substances could create overtake the body; the artificial feelings intensified to ten in this lazy daze of watching the sun go down on a city that stinks of smoke, sweat and colourful celebration. The guitars pick themselves intricately, a delicate vocal stressing itself to repeat the clichéd convictions that validate a song of such honest truth. The drums; quiet but obviously chaotic, are rocked, thrown and rolled downward from a hilltop that provides a place to perch during times of reflection; questioning life before a rainbow splattered insanely upon a skyline that shines on your face. ABABCD: Total pandemonium is unleashed; the lunatics have the keys to the asylum and play the music LOUD, a chance for the band to do anything with anything to express themselves with a life they know is full and happily lived. Next track proper, ‘Sleepwalker’ is fun, warped, wacky and sizzling with risks one is unafraid to take. Sci-fi noises add some luminosity to the atmosphere that hangs heavy above a planet painted according to the mood of the kids that inhabit it; it wouldn’t be wrong to assume such a neighbourhood have been infected with some chemical in the dirty water, leading them to dance recklessly and rebelliously until the dawn as this tune is played on repeat.
‘Hot wax’, is certainly a tune that would defy the ban’s overall sound (if they have one that is). Drooling sticky drips of radioactive hues; dangerous and savage are the expectations of what resides behind a corner of a place you know you shouldn’t be. More of a chant for cavemen coming home to greet the tribe than a brilliantly crafted modernised psyche anthem, thanks to the gruesome vocals and sharp guitar spikes that slice through the animalistic flesh of the tune; sexy still despite its utter boggle of influences. ‘Crying’ once again, appeals because it presents a moment of meditation; a lot can be achieved from a song lacking in quantity when a bluesy guitar riff that repeats throughout and drums that shake themselves into a loose flow of kooky dances are heard in the whispers of the outback. Instrumental number two with, ‘Pipe-Dream’, another interlude, an eccentric and eclectic freefall of experimentation embodied in a squeal of primeval feelings, overall encapsulated in a tune where the bass is the leader all walks of aboriginal life must follow despite its glide and slime.

They remain a band of endless amounts of creativity that can only be endless because of their willing approach to try new things without the fear it will get dismantled and destroyed by others. ‘Homeless Man in Adidas’; is a superb title and an equally superb acoustic guitar pattern. Vocals heard innocently as though being sung from underneath the water as the sunshine beats into and under its waving surface. Perhaps the fact they are Australian gives them an added sense of zeal. The colours and flavours seem to maximise knowing they derive from such a place. Being a seven piece too, increases the new-found love I have stumbled upon for this band; an admittance craziness is the key to freedom, and unashamedly so! All ends in, ‘Oddments’, a duality of modern/vintage interpretation of Spongebob Squarepants opening theme: totally weird, wonderful, geeky and goofy, which creates something original in the wake of such an approach to production, to presentation. The dreams are difficult to explain, but when something so fun is all one experiences, forever walking upon the edge, the explanations act to detriment the strength of those visions.

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