King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard started out as a ājokeā band. As guitarist/songwriter Joey Walker says with a grin, āNow the jokeās on us.ā
With their 26th release, Flight b741, the prog-rockers make it hard but highly rewarding for fans to keep up. Behind that drive lies a wealth of joy, camaraderie, and unwavering commitment to their art.
Thereās a dangerous, pernicious myth, seemingly spread in perpetuity among fledgling artists and music fans alike, that when youāre a musician, inspirationāand therefore productivityācomes naturally. Making art is the opposite of work, and, conversely, we know what happens to Jack when thereās all work and no play. But what happens when the dimensions of work and play fuse together like time and space? What happens to Jack then? Well, behind such an instance of metaphysical reaction, undoubtedly, would be King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard.
King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Le Risque (Official Video)
On the day that I connect with King Gizzard's guitarists and songwriters Joey Walker and Stu Mackenzie, they're settling into their hotel in Paris, after arriving on their tour bus that morning. As two of six bandmates of the psychedelic, maniacally chimerical Australian band, their work is rambunctiously genre-agnosticāwith records falling into garage rock, prog-rock, folk, heavy-metal, and jazz-fusion categories. Celebrated in part for their unfaltering output of releases since their inception 14 years ago, they have 25 studio and 15 live albums to their name. Weāre meeting to talk about the release of their 26th studio album, Flight b741.
In my conversation with Walker, who I speak with one-on-one a few hours before I have my call with Mackenzie, I comment, āYou guys are known for putting music out like crazy. And you have this whole fun energy about your sound that could be misleading to fansāas if youāre just goofing off and succeedingābut you must have an incredible work ethic.ā
āWhen Iām not in the studio, Iām making music as well. The beauty is that we really love each otherās company and just enjoy doing it.ā āJoey Walker
āGizzard is an example of a band where we just work really hard,ā he reflects back. āThereās no other answer. People are like, āHow the fuck do you put out so much music?ā We just go to the studio heaps, and make heaps of music together, and when Iām not in the studio, Iām making music as well. The beauty is that we really love each otherās company and just enjoy doing it.ā
Of course, like most of King Gizzardās catalog, on Flight b741 all you can hear is the fun. The album rings like an amusement park of classic rock and Americana, knitted together with full-band vocal harmonies appearing throughoutālike a family choirāand chords echoing in the many familiar furrows of folk tradition. And yet, the band perhaps takes a page from the Kinksā library, where the words underpinning that joyful music can often get a bit grim. For one, āAntarcticaā is about climate change, with the lyrics, āTake me away / I wanna feel them frost flakes on my face again / Take me away / Where the temperature stays below 25/78,ā and āI know this aināt gonna go well / Snowballās chance in hell.ā The title track is a tale sung in first person by a forlorn pilot: āThis plane is going down with me on / The splatter of the engine and the creaking of the skeleton, composing a requiem / Iām frightened.ā
Joey Walker's Gear
Joey Walker says the band puts out as much music as they do through sheer dedication, motivated by the joy it brings them to create together.
Photo by Tim Bugbee
Guitars
- 2002 Gibson Flying V
- 2011 Gibson Explorer
- Godin Richmond Dorchester modded āDickheadā microtonal guitar
Amps
- Fender Hot Rod Deluxe 1x12
- Hiwatt DR504 combo
Effects
- Boss TU-3
- Dunlop Cry Baby Wah
- Strymon Sunset Dual Overdrive
- Wampler Faux AnalogEcho
- Electro-Harmonix Flatiron Fuzz
Strings
- Ernie Ball Strings
As for the vocal parts, they indeed include every member of the band. As Walker explains, āWe rely heavily on a conceptual thing to get going with a record. It makes it easier for us to cauterize an idea if thereās a limitation we impose. [For this record, we thought,] āWhat if, at multiple times throughout each song, there was a shift in who was the lead singer?ā So weāve got our drummer Michael Cavanagh singing for the first time. Our bass player Lucas [Harwood] is singing on his first Gizzard song as well, and we all just had a big week of doing harmonies.ā
When I connect with Mackenzie later in the day, he tells me, āIt was all six of us standing around two microphones. We printed out all the lyrics and just stood thereāit took us like four daysāuntil the vocals were done.ā
I mention that the album reminds me specifically of the spirit of Pink Floydās Meddle(but supercharged), and Walker obliges that thereās plenty of ā60s and ā70s rock influence present on Flight b741, adding that the trap they could have fallen into in is writing āsome horrible, derivativeā Rolling Stones-knockoff material. āBut the thing with King Gizzard is trying to find whatever little angle you can slot into something that might be clichĆ© or corny, and then subvert it,ā he says. āAnd we have faith, since weāve been doing it for so long and we know each other so well, that itāll end up being a King Gizzard album.ā
Both Mackenzie and Walker mention the band name frequently in their interviews, using a small assortment of nicknames: King Gizzard, King Gizz, Gizzard, Gizz ā¦ as if itās a living and breathing creature who gobbles up musical ideas and births offspring in the form of spotlessly effusive, cheeky records. Maybe it feels that way to them, like how writers of narrative fiction often find that the more they visualize their characters, the more the characters seem to start acting out a plot on their own.
When King Gizzardās characters met, they were students at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology. āWe all lived in share houses around Melbourne and were in more āseriousā bands, and then King Gizzard was the joke party band, hence the name,ā Walker shares, smiling. āAnd ā¦ now the jokeās on us.ā
King Gizzardās 26th studio album, Flight b741dips into folk, classic rock, and Americana territory.
As we cover ground on the topic of creative flow and how it relates to King Gizzardās productivity, Walker and I get to talking about what it means to grapple with fears as an amateur artist, and what itās like when youāre starting out and no oneās really paying attention to you.
āThatās where we started,ā he says. āSo many artistsābroad term, āartistsāāare crippled by their inability to let go of how stuff will be perceived, when most likely there wonāt be anyone to perceive it, so they just donāt do anything. I get it, your song isnāt finished yet. Itās never going to be finished. You have to make stuff that necessarily might not be your best work; you have to feel like that to make your best work. Donāt be paralyzed by perception or fears.ā
Itās clear in our conversation that King Gizzardās output is fueled by the bandmatesā pure joy in making music together. So, is their love for one another essentially whatās at the heart of it all?
āLove, and perpetually being inspired by each other, as well,ā Walker shares. āStu kind of operates on a different strata of consciousness or something, just in terms of his approach to making music and stuff. If I hadnāt met him, I would have probably succumbed to that [state of being a] person that couldnāt finish that first song and never do anything. Heās completely unbridled or unbound by how things are perceived. Thereās been a lot of teaching. We teach each other a lot, and we just kind of take little partsāand the amorphous whole of us becomes King Gizzard.ā
When I share Walkerās comments with Mackenzie later in the day, he doesnāt seem fazed by his friendās sentiments; my guess is thatās because he already knows how much Walker values their bond, and vice versa.
Stu Mackenzie's Gear
Mackenzieāpictured here making a whimsical āblepāāsays the lessons he learned during the time he spent teaching as a teenager largely inform his guitar playing today.
Photo by Debi Del Grande
Guitars
- '67 Yamaha SG-2A Flying Samurai
- Gibson SG-3
- Custom-built Flying Microtonal Banana with additional microtonal frets
Amps
- Fender Hot Rod Deluxe 1x12
Effects
- Boss TU-3
- Boss DD-3
- Devi Ever FX Tornās Peaker
- Fender Tread-Light Wah
- Strymon blueSky
- VVco Pedals Time Box
Strings & Accessories
Ernie Ball Strings- Divine Noise Cables
āThatās nice of him [laughs],ā he says. āI think we all have spurred each other on in lovely ways and have been really inspired by each other in different, changing ways over the years, too.
āThe six of us; they are my best friends, so I love them all and care for them all so, so deeply,ā he continues. āAnd there really is just a lot of respect for each other, but thatās not to say that itās always easy. My role has always been to be that kind of middle person and to mediate those incredible, creative minds, and make sure everyone feels heard, and ideas are being listened to even if theyāre not used. Itās honestly a really, really challenging balance to keep a lot of the time.ā
But, he adds, āI know this is a very privileged position to be in, to be artists full-time. The moment I feel like we take our foot off the gas, I will start to feel ā¦ guilty, like I donāt deserve to be here anymore. But weāre all workinā our butts off. Iām here for it.ā
The Lizard Wizardās magic wands include an oddball array of guitars, including one set up for microtonal playing.
Photo by Maclay Heriot
Historically, there are actually three guitarists in King GizzardāWalker, Mackenzie, and Cook Craigābut for Flight b741 Craig (or, as heās called, āCookieā) stuck to organ, Mellotron, vocals, and bass (for one song). Yet, neither Walker nor Mackenzie care much about analyzing their guitars or guitar playing. (Perhaps, King Gizzard hasnāt gotten this far in life by preoccupying themselves with analytics.)
āIām always down to do stuff like this with guitar-based publications,ā says Walker, at the beginning of our conversation. āBut I feel like, if they want to get granular about guitar.... I play guitar, I love guitar, but I donāt think about guitar a huge amount, you know what I mean?ā
When I ask Mackenzie asked about what informs his guitar playing, he rewinds the clock a bit. He explains that he began teaching guitar as a teenager, where he spent most of his time breaking down classic rock songs for his students to learn. āIn hindsight, I was sitting down with a guitar for sometimes five straight hours, just deconstructing songs. And, learning the construction of songs and the way that comes together; I still think about guitar in that same way when weāre playing.
āFor instance, the King Gizzard show has gotten quite improvised,ā he elaborates. āAnd Iām still thinking about structure when weāre jamming. Iām trying to take things away from being linear. Linearās greatāweāve made linear songs, too; thatās totally fine. But Iām kind of an old-fashioned guy when it comes to song structure. I do like songs to come back and for things to repeat and to have structure you can kind of grab onto.ā
āHow do you make a record that still feels like a whole, still feels like a universe in itself, but doesnāt sound like anything that youāve done before?ā āStu Mackenzie
As a young teenager, Mackenzie loved bands like Slayer and Rammstein, and soon after discovered Tool, which led him ābackwardsā into King Crimson and other ā70s prog artists. But later in his adolescence, he grew into the belief that āall of the best musicā was made between 1964 and 1969. āI would say there was a two, maybe three-year period where I didnāt listen to anything that was outside of those years, which is kind of crazy,ā he says. In particular, he was fascinated with the āpost-Beatles, post-Beach Boys era of amateur American garage rock.ā Immersing himself in that world, he dug into obscure compilations like Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era (released on Elektra/Sire), thePebblesseries (AIP/Mastercharge/BFD/ESD), and the Back from the Grave series (Crypt).
My first thought when he mentioned that particular span of years, however, was the Beatles. How did he feel about them? āI do actually like all of the Beatles records,ā he says. āI donāt think there are any bad ones. But when I was in that period of time, I wouldnāt have even listened to Abbey Road; The White Album was maybe on the cusp; I probably would have listened to Sgt. Pepperās but I would have been like, āThis is a bit too psychedelic.ā Thatās where my head was at. I was like, āHelp is the pinnacle of songwriting in the Beatles catalog.ā Teenagers are weird,ā he comments, smiling.
So, when Mackenzie began making music with King Gizzard, his self-indoctrination in garage rock naturally nurtured the young beast of a band. Of course, by their fourth studio LP, the psychedelic, folky Oddments, they started taking a bit of a detour. āAs we evolved, I think we wanted to try and pick apart and understand other ways of making music,ā says Mackenzie. āHow do you make a record that still feels like a whole, still feels like a universe in itself, but doesnāt sound like anything that youāve done before? And thatās always kind of been the MO of making records with Gizz. I mean ā¦ thatās my life story at this point.ā
YouTube It
Performing āAstroturfā from their 2022 album, Changes, King Gizzard conjures a blend of smooth jazz, prog, and nothing but strange, whimsical, waves of limitless creative energy.
Duke Ellington, Elvis, Chuck Berry, the Beatles, the Stones, Miles Davis, Prince, Zeppelin ā¦ all the music John Bohlinger loves was born from the trailblazing jazz and blues of Bessie Smith (above) and Satchmo.
While watching the Ken Burns documentary Jazz, I realized all the music I love was born from the jazz and blues of Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong.
Ancient Egyptian paintings and sculptures all look like they were created by a sixth grader. They are stiff, flat profiles with feet, nose, and chin pointing in the same direction: no depth, no realism. All art was this primitive until the 5th century, when Greeks took a giant step forward ā¦ literally. They developed contrapposto, where a standing human figure is posed with their weight resting on one leg. The weight shift brought organic movement, bringing the paintings and sculptures to life. (Check out the 5th century Kritios Boy, which is the earliest known Greek statue to use contrapposto.)
Similarly, look at European art from the medieval times, or the Middle Ages, from the 5th century to the 15th century. Much of it is cartoonishāflat, distorted, and unrealistic. Baby Jesus almost always looks like a weird little man, not an infant. No wonder they called it the Dark Ages. Then Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and others, inspired by the ancient Greeks, built on this realism and brought about the Renaissance, pushing the world forward and making art come to life. I look at Ancient Egyptian art and feel nothing. I look at Michelangeloās Pieta and weep. Thatās what art is about.
I recently rewatched Ken Burnsā 10-part miniseries, Jazz. Sometime during the 2,280 minutes of running time, it occurred to me that American music went through a similar evolution as the world of visual art. Much as the Renaissance artists brought realism to art, jazz musiciansā specifically Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrongābrought realism to music. Hereās a little backstory.
āI listen to vaudeville; I feel nothing. I hear Armstrong and I weep.ā
In 1877, when Thomas Edison invented the phonograph, he was looking for a way to improve telegraph communications, going for what he called a āspeaking telegraph.ā Maybe itās because Edisonās first recording was of him singing āMary Had a Little Lamb,ā but quickly people figured out that if youāre going to record something, music is probably a solid option.
Partly fueled by Edisonās game-changing inventions, the United States was becoming a true superpower, leading the world in industry, tech, finance, etc. The Burns documentary suggests this was when U.S. leaders, trendsetters, and titans of industry thought that it was time for an American Bach to legitimize the nationās contribution to the worldās music. They looked to the universities, the military, and the establishment to provide this musical genius.
One of the earliest recording artists (in the late 1800s) was John Philip Sousa, āthe March Kingā of America. With all due respect, itās amazing that records caught on. Iām as patriotic as the next person, but who in their right minds pours a class of wine and cranks up āThe Stars and Stripes Foreverā to relax at the end of a long day? Sousaās marches feel as stiff and lifeless as an ancient Egyptian wall painting.
Louis Armstrong: When it comes to authenticity and swing, the buck starts here.
A decade later, in the early 20th century, vocalists dominated record sales. They were mostly vaudevillians like Billy Murray and Arthur Collins, who had hits like āYouāre a Grand Old Flag,ā āGive My Regards to Broadway,ā and āThe Yankee Doodle Boy.ā They were theater performers, trained to act melodramatically while singing and speaking in a loud, affected manner so they could be understood in the back of a theater. It was a stage voiceānot the voice of someone genuinely communicating or expressing emotion.
Then, in the 1920s, music took a contrapposto step in an unlikely way. One of the biggest artists of the early 1920s was Al Jolson, who performed in blackface, stealing bits from African-American culture and making it more palatable to a xenophobic white audience. Based on Jolsonās success, Columbia Records execs thought, āHey, instead of a white guy in blackface singing a white guyās interpretation of Black music, why not record the people theyāre stealing from?ā
āThe powerful were looking to themselves for the answer when what they sought came from slaves and their poorly treated descendants. The poetry of it all.ā
Columbia found and recorded Bessie Smith, a Black orphaned blues singer who grew up supporting her impoverished family by busking on the streets of Chattanooga, Tennessee. Smithās genuine performances connected with record buyers. The āEmpress of the Bluesā became a wildly successful entertainer, which opened the gate for Louis Armstrong. Not only did Armstrong introduce the world to a swinging groove, his genuine, conversational voice made those trained, affected voices seem wooden by comparison. I listen to vaudeville; I feel nothing. I hear Armstrong and I weep.
Itās the classic unlikely origin story, like baby Jesus being born in a manger. The necessary hero/savior rarely comes from the establishment. The powerful were looking to themselves for the answer when what they sought came from slaves and their poorly treated descendants. The poetry of it all.
Duke Ellington, Elvis, Chuck Berry, the Beatles, the Stones, Miles Davis, Prince, Zeppelin, Clapton, and pretty much everything I love descended from the jazz and blues of Bessie Smith and Satchmo. When Duke Ellington was asked how he felt when he couldnāt stay at the hotels where he performed, he replied, āI merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues.ā
It includes an F-bomb or two, but the screen legend's speech to college graduates highlights the inevitability of rejection and how you've got to keep working.
"Time goes on. So whatever you're going to do, do it. Do it now. Don't wait." āRobert De Niro
Here's a true music industry story that's stuck with me for 15 years. I'm keeping this anonymous because the story involves some transgressions by formerly powerful people, and although I like the idea of karma in action, I'm no snitch. As a rule, I avoid saying negative things about anybody, whether it's deserved or not.
A friend of mine was on tour with a newly successful artist on Sony who had a big hit on her first record. Although the gig had the potential of being very lucrative and prestigious, during this infancy, the pay was low, and the day-to-day tour life was devoid of the amenities that one might expect on a major tour. When the band was shorted on per diem, they agreed the bandleader should meet with management to try and fix the oversight and mend a few other issues. After a few unreturned phone calls, eventually management met with the band leader, who told management about the missing money. He started to mention some other issues when the management stopped him mid-sentence and said:
"Next!"
"I'm sorry ā¦ what do you mean?"
"I mean next. You musicians are interchangeable. There are a ton of players who want this job as is. We don't need a bunch of crybabies on the payroll, so ā¦ next."
My friend was quickly replaced, another player quit, and the rest of the band stayed on until the gig lost its momentum and eventually whimpered to a stop a few years later when the artist was dropped.
I don't want to be the person who takes delight in others' misfortune, but I guess I am that person because it was satisfying to watch that artist fade into anonymity. She had it coming, so yes, I do smile a bit when thinking about it. Today, as I type this, I wonder whatever happened to that manager, who I used to see behind the velvet rope at every industry event. It's occurred to me that I've not seen him for more than a decade because this former titan of industry is no longer relevant. I'm petty enough to enjoy his comeuppance as well.
No matter what dogma people may preach, I've found that we're not punished for our sins, we are punished by our sins.
I hadn't thought about this in years but was reminded of it last night during some insomnia-fueled reading when I stumbled upon Robert De Niro's 2015 class of New York University's TISCH School of the Arts commencement speech.
"When it comes to the arts, passion should always trump common sense," De Niro tells the graduates. "You aren't just following dreams; you're reaching for your destiny. You're a dancer, a singer, a choreographer, a musician, a filmmaker, a writer, a photographer, a director, a producer, an actor, an artist. Yeah, you're fucked! The good news is that that's not a bad place to start. Now that you've made your choice, or rather, succumbed to it, your path is clear. Not easy but clear. You have to keep working. It's that simpleā¦. Your motto, your mantra, your battle cry, 'Next!' You didn't get that part, that's my point, 'Next'āyou'll get the next one, or the next one after that."
But what comes "next" depends on what you do now. Every step is contingent on the steps you've already taken. That artist and manager's "next" didn't include success in the music industry. There are a lot of factors involved in their descent from on high, but I suspect if either one of them treated people well, their "next" would've been different. They may not be successful, but they would at least be liked and people tend to want to work with or help people they like. No matter what dogma people may preach, I've found that we're not punished for our sins, we are punished by our sins. Treat people poorly and they not only won't like to work with you, but they'll also enjoy your failure.
My friend the musical director continued to work hard and be kind to people. Although there were some lean times for him, his "next" included consistent work as a top-tier touring musician, well liked and respected by his peers. He now tries to avoid working for people who treat others badly because he's learned that those gigs may dangle the golden carrot, but they rarely, if ever, fulfill their promise. All you get is a small paycheck and a slow beatdown.
I love De Niro's motto, mantra, battle cry, 'Next!' Being fired, hired, ignored, revered, treated well, or treated poorly, it doesn't matter, you move onto what's next. What's next depends on what you do now. I can't wait to see what's next.