9 Songs, 22 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

Carrying the torch passed on nearly 30 years ago by Australia's Scientists and Beasts of Bourbon (and before them by psych-rock progenitors like The 13th Floor Elevators and The Seeds), King Gizzard snakes and roils and undulates with sputtering, dirty harmonica, theremin(!), two drummers, and barbed, grinding guitars drenched in reverb and other effects. When it’s not burning down the garage with white-hot energy on feral tracks like “Danger $$$,” “Dead-Beat,” and “Stoned Mullet,” the group might turn out some candlelit, opiate-scented romance (“Let it Bleed”) or dabble in slightly more civilized, catchy tunes like the title track and “Black Tooth.” King Gizzard charms with its non-verbal vocal utterances, howling, whooping, and melodically hiccupping along with its silly lyrics. (“Dad says I’m not okay/because I never/brush my teeth!”) Mostly, though, the boys let loose with a bag of guitar tricks that range from delay and distortion to tunnels of howling feedback that should concern anyone with less girth than a van full of Marshall amps. Hold on, we warned you.

EDITORS’ NOTES

Carrying the torch passed on nearly 30 years ago by Australia's Scientists and Beasts of Bourbon (and before them by psych-rock progenitors like The 13th Floor Elevators and The Seeds), King Gizzard snakes and roils and undulates with sputtering, dirty harmonica, theremin(!), two drummers, and barbed, grinding guitars drenched in reverb and other effects. When it’s not burning down the garage with white-hot energy on feral tracks like “Danger $$$,” “Dead-Beat,” and “Stoned Mullet,” the group might turn out some candlelit, opiate-scented romance (“Let it Bleed”) or dabble in slightly more civilized, catchy tunes like the title track and “Black Tooth.” King Gizzard charms with its non-verbal vocal utterances, howling, whooping, and melodically hiccupping along with its silly lyrics. (“Dad says I’m not okay/because I never/brush my teeth!”) Mostly, though, the boys let loose with a bag of guitar tricks that range from delay and distortion to tunnels of howling feedback that should concern anyone with less girth than a van full of Marshall amps. Hold on, we warned you.

TITLE TIME

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