But on Nonagon Infinity, they assume a more mechanistic precision and sinister, metallic force-all the better to reinforce the lyrics’ '70s sci-fi cartoon-show universe of robots, monsters, and hidden dimensions. In their most hot-wired moments (see 2014’s I’m in Your Mind Fuzz), King Gizzard have earned copious comparisons to their former label patrons Thee Oh Sees, and here frontman Stu Mackenzie punctuates almost every chord change with an echo-drenched, John Dwyer-esque “wooo” like a dancehall selector pushing the air-horn button. And it’s the first album in history to give you a legitimate, practical reason to hit that Repeat button-*Nonagon Infinity *is constructed as an infinite loop, meaning its final notes connect perfectly with the album’s opening.īut independent of that gambit, *Nonagon Infinity *is the Gizzard’s most ballistic, berserker album to date, a merciless, atomic-bomb erasure of the pastoral terrain traversed by its flower-powered predecessor, Paper Mâché Dream Balloon. While pieced together from discretely recorded, separately titled songs, the record is mixed to feel like a continuous 41-minute live performance, complete with recurring musical and lyrical passages. But Nonagon Infinity ups the high-concept ante to absurd extremes. Last year’s Quarters! presented four prog-pop suites each clocking at exactly 10 minutes and 10 seconds. And through experimenting with myriad sounds, they’ve also started experimenting with album formats. Over the course of eight wildly divergent albums, the Melbourne psych-rock septet have fed the past 50 years of rock history through a paper shredder and seamlessly taped the strands back together in intriguing new patterns, even leaving in the parts (bluesy harmonica slobber, flute solos, jazz odysseys) that more cool-conscious retro-rock revivalists would excise.
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