Tag: King Gizzard + the Lizard Wizard

Enter Tommy Guerrero’s world of light breeze and perfect t-shirt weather.

Firing things up near the top of tonight’s Mixtape are The Hives and the precision attack of “Rigor Mortis Radio,” from their recent return to affairs of sound. Also, what do you know… another fine Fugazi cover to open tonight’s mixtape, this one the chromatic riffing of “Merchandise” as interpreted by Sounds Of Swami. Elsewhere tonight, a shout-out to Chuck Dinkins for introducing me to Tupelo Chain Sex.

Dating back to a time before the whole phrase was unceremoniously truncated to “chillax”, Serge Gainsbourg’s imploration to enhance your mood is given a frantic workout by Stereo Total and in this case, their toy electronic noisemakers are a welcome homage. Elsewhere this show, we have Carl King’s prog-rock-and-glockenspiel interpretation of Rebecca Black’s infamous “Friday” … and it’s quite the improvement.

I just recently noticed the Morbysphere, the term I had to come up with just now for all the interesting music swirling about Kevin Morby, his solo work and that with Woods and Babies, and now the work of his frequent musical collaborator Justin Sullivan as Night Shop, which vibrates in roughly the same product-of-two-primes harmonic frequency. Also tonight, I will be breaking my personal record for longest track played on the air with the full length of King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s “The Dripping Tap”.

Shane McGowan was a true Irish poet, and although Cat Power delivers the classic track from the Pogues in a voice very different from the original whiskey-and-gravel, the song's deep inner character is unchanged.

Sometimes it takes a while for an album to be recognized as a classic, sometimes the shock of recognition is instant and universal. This is the case for Spoon and their latest release, Lucifer on the Sofa, which showcases much of what has made the band a constant source of solid material, but in a concentrated way that will make you start all over as soon as you hit the end.

The three-piece punchy pop formula should be familiar to everyone by now, but the sounds of Bad Bad Hats are an elegant proof of their own.

Like pre-teens throwing every liquid into the kitchen blender and daring each other to drink the results, Woody and Jeremy fuse all manner of sounds legitimate and profane into some murky concoction that tastes surprisingly good.

For a quarter century, Deerhoof have been a benchmark for the contrasting dynamics of sweet and sour, spiked and pillowy, and all manner of sounds that should not get along but quite obviously do.

For quite some time, Mommyheads have delivered the sort of complex pop and lyrical insight that fills in the cracks and gaps in your musical thinking with new ideas and sounds.