How this band’s name wasn’t vetoed at the first hurdle is anyone’s guess, so it’s just as well that their music is so infectiously groovy.
This is the Melbourne seven-piece's fourth album and aligns somewhat with fuzzy psychedelia of their compatriots, Tame Impala. The difference is that King Gizzard are likely to swerve into the most unexpected directions from song to song, be it propulsive garage wig-outs culled straight from the 1960s (Cellophane), woozy rock tunes incorporating flute solos that ping, zip and swirl at breakneck pace (Hot Water), slouchy jams (Her & I, Slow Jam 1) or wistful, tremulous tunes about the devil (Satan Speeds Up).
As bonkers as their name suggests and not exactly unique, but thrilling, nonetheless.
