We’re fast approaching the eye of Hurricane Gizzard in 2017, and the first upon the staggering stack of five albums they’ll release this year is a welcome corker.
In true King Giz fashion, Flying Microtonal Banana represents another stylistic territory to conquer – gentler, but never reserved. Indeed, tracks like Open Water and Rattlesnake exude the same frantic energy the band’s always contained, but they approach you in a strangely smoother coat.
The album strums at a constant tumble, but the theatricality is amped to extremes. King Gizzard have a true knack for transposing classic psych-rock tropes of mysticism and social awareness into a contemporary Australian context – the cyclonic toms and snares on environmental lament Melting, in particular, pop and tingle as they reverberate in a storm through your eardrums.
The album occasionally drifts a little too lazily on its laconic path – Billabong Valley the weakest of a strong set. Despite the tantalising promise of further installments, Flying Microtonal Banana never feels like a fragment of a larger project. It’s an introduction, but the dedicated effort to craft such a whole, complete experience should more than reflect the commendable calibre of the band. A groovy journey that sets an atmospheric, well-constructed precedent.