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Rating: Flying Microtonal Banana, the ninth album by Australian band King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard and the first of the five albums that the Melbourne psycho rock group will release in 2017, was released at the end of February by Flightless Records in Australia, ATO Records in the United States, and Heavenly Records in the United Kingdom. It immediately garnered the favor of critics and audiences, despite, on the eve of its release, many had expected the first misstep in Stu Mackenzie's band's discography due to the declared and ambitious intent expressed in the subtitle of the work "Explorations into Microtonal Tuning, Volume 1". The experiment with microtonality, with which Gizzard, to be fair, had already dabbled through small forays in their previous work, Nonagon Infinity, is now evidently ready to be developed into a more structured work. A brief but necessary digression for those not in the know: microtonal music is typical of Asia and uses scales that escape the logarithmic tuning logic in which the twelve tones and semitones used in Western music are divided, in favor of smaller intervals, microtones, which give listeners a sense of continuum or "musical dimension". Perhaps it is precisely this intrinsic peculiarity, in line with their curious aesthetic, that must have fascinated King Gizzard to the point that they equipped themselves with microtuning instruments and took on this challenge. Delving deeper into the matter, positive aspects immediately emerge that deserve to be highlighted: the mere fact that a band on its ninth album, with what might be their best work ever under their belt, Nonagon Infinity, decides to take the risk and step out of their comfort zone demonstrates admirable creativity and curiosity. Moreover, the fact that in this experiment, microtonality is well-integrated and functional to the purpose and doesn't disrupt the acquired sound—a sort of dynamic balance between subversion and comprehensibility—makes the result entirely convincing. Certainly, it's not an easy album to digest, especially on the first listen: although the first track and first single, Rattlesnake, still resembles the Garage, Stoner, and low-fi atmospheres to which the group has accustomed us, with very tight drums and a bass line that nods to classic hard rock, already with Melting the atmosphere becomes hypnotic. The vocal line is in unison with the microtonal guitar, the rhythm section dispenses grooves with continuous Middle Eastern references, all on a multi-layered keyboard backdrop executing chromatic scales. The band engages in a long jam that becomes relentless in the subsequent Open Water and resolves in Sleep Drifter, pushing microtonal experimentation to its limits. The second part of the album is more readable: the vocals are less effected, the guitars more akin to the classic Gizzard sound, but the album does not lose its intensity: there remains a persistent precision in the excellent drum work and the bass line, never mundane. The album concludes with the track that gives it its name, Flying Microtonal Banana, which bids farewell to the listener with much more Chill atmospheres. In conclusion, we can say that the work, in its entirety, is very well produced, fresh, dynamic, and fun, even if less pervasive than the previous album. The idea is original and ambitious, although I doubt that Stu and company will return to the topic: the microtonal experience has surely been exhaustively explored and may echo in future productions, but it seems clear that we are facing an exercise in style and not a turning point. In any case, King Gizzard confirms itself as a very solid and mature group, capable of playing very well and giving the impression of being able to veer aside at will whenever we delude ourselves into understanding their trajectory.
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