L.W. is a hefty beast that more than holds its own. In fact, it’s quite possibly some of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s boldest and most rousing works to date.

Aussie psych-rockers King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s latest release, L.W., serves as a direct successor to 2020’s K.G., including wonderfully complimentary cover art. Though a double album this is not. L.W. is a hefty beast that more than holds its own. In fact, it’s quite possibly some of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s boldest and most rousing works to date.

‘If Not Now, Then When?’ starts things off as L.W. means to go on. Loud colourful guitar riffs, brash drum rolls and harmonious feedback. But just as you’re pushing your way towards the mosh pit, all the barbarism evaporates and the song swerves in the opposite direction as mechanised funk rhythms clear the way for Stu Mackenzie’s floaty vocals to tiptoe their way through the groove. King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard are no stranger to these expeditious gear changes and it’s a tactic they employ time and time again throughout L.W. It doesn’t always hit the spot but here it’s employed to perfection and genuinely takes you by surprise. 

‘O.N.E’'s dreamy intro starts off sounding like a Smile-era Beach Boys, evoking summery images of blue skies and rolling hills. It threatens to stop the party before it’s barely begun but fear not, what follows is a gloriously mystical offering that’ll have you trying to decide whether to start meditating or head-banging. It almost falls into bossa-nova territory, which isn’t a bad thing at all, but choppy guitar riffs and licks prevent us from straying too far from its rock roots.

‘Pleura’'s huge foot-stomping mega-riff is as loud as it is infectious, broken only by an occasional shift into a wistful flute-driven bridge. Mackenzie’s chant-like vocals are almost evocative of, dare I say it, Tibetan throat singing and ‘Pleura’ does occasionally skirt a little too close to parody. But, when it’s all put together, it sounds better than you’d imagine and honestly by this point you won't mind anyway, you’ll be having too much fun.

Metronomic drum patterns and microtonal melodies elevate ‘Supreme Ascendancy’ from what might have been considered a slight drop in form after the ferociousness of the album’s opening three tracks. The song’s real trump-card is a beautiful chime-laden refrain that has a sweet 80s vibe. You kind of wish it was more of a focal point for the song as a whole but unfortunately it ends up feeling a little tacked on.  

‘Static Electricity’ momentarily made me think I’d accidentally put my meditation playlist on but, once the psychedelic intro is out of the way, it proves to be a high point on the album. A fantastic bass groove drives the song along with urgency whilst Eastern-inspired rhythms dance and pirouette around it. Unfortunately, the following track, ‘East West Link’, leans a little too heavily on these Eastern influences to pull it out of the mire. Ultimately it can’t seem to decide what it’s trying to be and is probably the most skippable of all the tracks on the album. It’s not terrible by any means but its plight isn’t helped by it having to precede album highlight, ‘Ataraxia’.

For all the plethora of sonic innovations that percolate through L.W., it’s ‘Ataraxia’, King Gizzard’s most stripped back lo-fi track, that rises above the surface as the standout moment on the album. It’s a simple guitar-driven sonic assault on the eardrums, devoid of any redundant decoration, the band at their most immediate and blustering. ‘See Me’ sees the return of all things mystical and alchemic. A huge baseline juxtaposes transcendental chants that launch the song into the stratosphere, whilst the rhythm section dances atop what can only be described as the worlds most melodious polyphonic ringtone.  

Album closer ‘K.G.L.W.’ couldn’t be further removed from the funky overtones of the first track and it’s a real testament to King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s ability to navigate such diverse musical genres so effortlessly without it being jarring. Any band that begins an album with a funk-inspired pop offering and concludes it with eight minutes of heavy-metal infused mosh pit fodder is worthy of high praise indeed. ‘K.G.L.W.’ is big, bold, loud and audacious, everything we love about King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard. It’s the heaviest moment on the album and could even sit quite comfortably alongside groups such as Pigs x7 or Flat Worms. It’s a bold way to conclude things and leaves you wishing King Gizzard had dusted off a few more of those Sabbath influences and maybe laid off the chai-tea a little more.

L.W. is the first of a proposed three studio albums that King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard are aiming to release in 2021 (by their standards this is quite a restrained target considering they managed five in 2017). Fortunately, L.W. is a more taut, confident and vibrant incarnation than its predecessor and relinquishes any notion that the band might be running on fumes given the prolificacy of their output over the past decade.