King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard send ‘Deadstick’ as an envoy to announce their 27th album
They come straight from the cockpit of Flight B741.
Photo: Maclay Heriot
The news erupts in a brass crescendo, launching a technicolour parade ripped from a ‘70s fuzz dream. Guitars slash down the avenues, pulling people into the streets as wagons spill over with cymbal crashes, blaring trumpets and swaggering saxophones, and King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard at their best.
At the centre wagon, flanked by sultry saxes, Stu Mackenzie casts his spell on the mass below.
“Well there once flew a pilot high and free / Danced with the clouds, pirouette with the breeze / But I’ll sink to the mechanical beat / That pulsed at the heart of a metal machine.”
Time to dance. Kids twitch, parents abandon supervision, windows fling open, rooftops heave—every soul is moving. Guitar and brass volley riffs across wagons until trumpets blare a ceasefire, clearing space for the glammest choir this side of the Milky Way. A pact is struck: instruments hoist Joey Walker skyward, preaching from a flaming pillar to the rooftop faithful.
“Follow me down through the wind and the earth to the edge of the forgotten sea / Save us from the hurt, tell me I’m the one, the phantom has taken everything.”
The crowd surges aboard. Under their weight, the wagons buckle, screech to a smoky halt—but the parade won’t die. Through the haze strides Ambrose Kenny-Smith, dancing and ringing a triangle madly, while the rest of the parade claps and high-kicks in workout-video unison.
Onward they march into the sunset; the city hesitates, wondering if the invitation stands. The King answers with a primal roar. Joy detonates. The throng barrels after the procession, bracing for the voyage to Phantom Island (coming June 13th 2025).
