King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard

At this point, I’ve been covering King Gizz so long they’ve gone from quirky exports to a cottage industry of vinyl variants and touring powerhouses in their own right. The band’s always been charmers, thought certain waves have hit me harder than others. Last year’s Flight b741 was a welcome return for me, a record that dialed down the excess, and cut to the core fun of the band. That album slipped into the arms of Cosmic Americana; a gooey, groovy jam-oriented record that embraced their status as darlings of the American stadium circuit. It also swerved back towards a simplicity that’s been gone from the Gizz for a little while, and the return was a nice reset. Where to go from country-cooked rock ripplers but further into the fray, right? For Phantom Island the band turns outward, away from the practice space boogie belters and into the arc of their never wavering ambition. After a chance meeting with the LA Orchestra planted the seeds of a symphonic collaboration in their mind, the band began to craft a grandiose album, one that splashes across the speakers like a ‘70s rock opera, albeit with the kind of curdled smirks that seem to accompany the Gizz and co. from album to album.

Never ones to shy away from ornate touches, the past has seen flutes and the occasional blast of brass gild up a Gizz jam or two. They return to that mindset as they ease onto the Island. The band, buzzed on the kind of R&B rooted revivals of the ‘80s, don their fedoras and foster grants in search of their inner Blues Brothers for “Deadstick” before shuttling through slippery tales of space exploration and inner space deep dives into the workings of the soul. Funk gets a goose from cinematic swells of strings and the album takes flight. As much as the last album was a break from the bigger concepts, a moment to burn loose and limber, this album is the Gizz at their most structured. The album flows in fantastical ways, in no short part due to the string arrangements from Chad Kelly. The band handed the record over to Kelly with the intention of turning the bones into something spectacular and, honestly, they succeed. For a band that’s always felt larger than life, this may be the Lizard at its largest. The listener is hurtled along a kaleidoscopic journey of groove and gloss, a speaker-encrusted bus blasting brass and boogie down the Rainbow Road. The next move’s gotta be the KG stage musical, right? Where else is there left to go?

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