Some tracks return to the synth-psych visions of Butterfly 3000 – the neon pop of ‘Magenta Mountain’, or ‘Evilest Man’, an acid satire aimed at a powerful right-wing international media mogul. The songs that follow chase familiar modes in new directions, or step boldly into the unknown. The majestic ‘The Dripping Tap’ is unmistakeably Gizzard, with its restless, interlocking riffs and supernatural changes of mood, but it pushes the Lizard Wizard jam archetype a quantum step or three further. “Our White Album, where anything goes.”Īs indeed it does.
“We decided, this is like our classic sprawling ‘double album’,” grins Mackenzie. And while most King Gizzard albums are conceptual works, pursuing explicit themes and singular sounds, Omnium Gatherum is the sound of the group getting loose, running wild and following the muse wherever and whenever it takes them. Conceived as a compendium of unreleased songs that had never found a home on previous Gizzard albums, the project snowballed, and soon the group were writing and recording new songs for the swiftly expanding album. The title, Mackenzie says, is “literally Latin for ‘a collection of miscellaneous people or things’” – a fitting sobriquet for Gizzard’s first-ever double album, and their boldest, most ambitious, most far-reaching release yet. The 18-minute krautrock/garage-psych jam – an ecstatic pile-up of motorik vibes, giddy pop and gleefully gonzo crescendos – is the opening track of their 19th studio album, Omnium Gatherum. That’s why ‘The Dripping Tap’ is so epic.” “We were like, ‘Holy shit – this is what we do! This is how we play!’ It had been so long, I’d forgotten. But there’s no denying that the vibe that June morning in 2021 – which also marked their first recording session at their new studio, Gizz HQ, in the northern suburbs of Melbourne – was something else, as synapses fired and the interplay they once took for granted sparked back into life. Not that you could tell by listening to the microtonal explorations of 2020’s KG and 2021’s LW, and Butterfly 3000’s voyage into the realms of synthesiser arpeggios. For these records, they taped their parts alone, remotely, assembling the tracks later via the internet. Unable to tour, to rehearse, to even hang out in the same room as each other, Mackenzie and his bandmates nevertheless kept busy during the enforced downtime, recording and releasing three albums of fresh Gizzard magic while in isolation.
#Wizards lizard go back to town series
This time however, singer/guitarist Stu Mackenzie says, “It felt significant.” Because this jam marks the first time that King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard have recorded together as a band since the COVID pandemic hit, and Melbourne placed its citizens under a series of prohibitive lockdown measures. It’s a sacred process, one they’ve repeated countless times before in the dozen years since they formed.
It’s 11am one morning in June 2021, and the musicians who compose visionary garage/psych/prog/electronic/ metal/ambient/dream-pop/other- genres-not-yet-invented six-piece King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard are plugging in their instruments, checking the microphones, setting the tapes rolling and beginning to jam.
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