Four years ago I was reborn into music.

Now, I was never a big “music guy” like many of my friends. I had always enjoyed music, sure: Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Pavement, Frank Black were early teenage favorites, and I would put in serious time checking out new stuff at the Tower Records Listening Station when I was in high school. Classic rock lived permanently on my parents’ radios; I went through your usual white upper-middle class kid progressions of digging The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, and so on (in fact, Dad was–and still is–a bit of a button-down Deadhead). I had childhood lessons on the violin, clarinet, and trombone, and once a year or so my parents would use a couple of their LA Philharmonic @ the Hollywood Bowl season tickets on me and a sibling to expose us to live professional orchestras. So there was always a basis of music appreciation and once I found local alt-rock station KROQ, I’d do the thing where I wait for new songs I like to play so I could hit Record on the tape machine of my hi-fi. I liked finding and diving into new music–but I was never truly a Music Guy. I thought tapers and tourers were a bit kooky and while I supported friends in bands, I was never interested in that myself. I never bought a kickin’ stereo system. My CDs would all get scratched.

And now… I cannot get enough of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard. I am all-in on these savants. My first Gizz concerts came on this tour… and I want to share my journey into the Weirdo Swarm.

My first lifetime concert was George Strait: I tagged along with country music-loving cousins in Houston I was visiting at age 14. At 16 I made my first real plan to see a show with a friend: Nirvana at the LA Forum. In college I stepped that up only slightly, including seeing my first Phish in 1997. In my 20s I’d catch an act-–always rock-–in the clubs in Boston every couple months at most. In my 30s and early 40s, my wife (Meghan) and I would make concert attendance a once-in-a-while-thing when a band we liked came around. All told: casual hobby at best, and slowed almost to a stop once we started having babies.

Then… in Summer 2019, I do a Phish at Fenway and happen to meet up with my old good college friend Stu, who introduces me to his show crew. Some months later, Pandemic happens. We’re all stuck at home (you remember how it was) and Stu calls me up, says something like: “remember those Phans you met last summer? When Phish puts up a Dinner and a Movie on their YouTube, we all stream it and Zoom the show together.” Something to do. A lifeline to socialize and connect with other humans over music in the deep of covid isolation. Sounds good. I’m in.

Once a week—sometimes more-–the wife and I would dial up the show and zoom with this crew (who would come to be called the Spatchcocked Lizards)… for, well, the rest of Pandemic… and some time after. And in the strange way things happen… a switch flipped in my brain. I became obsessed with Phish. I also got to know some true, long-time Music Guys and Gals, and their love for and knowledge of the music scene was inspiring. Between 1997 and 2019, I saw a total of nine Phish shows. Since things opened back up in 2021? I’ve attended 22 Phish shows.

And not just Phish, but as much live music as time and money and family logistics would allow. Meghan (my wife) and I both love Ween–we’ve seen them twice over the last couple years. Neighbor is a new favorite of mine; I just attended my 10th Neighbor show. Les Claypool’s Fearless Flying Frog Brigade (where in the middle of the show, they fade into, and then back out of, the entirety of Pink Floyd’s Animals album) might be the coolest concert I’ve ever seen. A three day fest on Martha’s Vineyard (Beck, Wilco, Jason Isbell, Billy Strings, Khruangbin, Avett Brothers… an incredible lineup). I see Billy Strings a second time. Modest Mouse, twice, one of them with my dude Frank Black in the Pixies. Khruangbin, again. The Flaming Lips. Levitate fest: only the jam band day last year but all three days this year. Cedric Burnside. Trey Anastasio Band twice, one of them with Goose. Black Joe Louis & the Honeybears. Lettuce. Spafford. Galactic. Eggy. I’m likely forgetting a few.

I used to do the sports: I’ve even road tripped with my dad and siblings for UCLA Football, or with my kids for Dodgers baseball (which is not easy to do when you live across the country on Cape Cod) But now, all of that energy and effort is channeled into live music. It has become my main thing; it gives me palpable joy. It’s like the sports in terms of the excitement and prep and entertainment and connecting with others both within and without your friend group… but unlike the sports, it’s a win every time. Walking out from an amazing show, I feel like my team has won the World Series. Every time, it’s a win.

And I love sharing music with others. I meet people at shows; I discuss music with anyone interested; I curate playlists for appropriate background energy in my high school classroom. I post show pics and opinions on Facebook. I am slowly (and unsuccessfully) trying to learn to play the bass. I hang out with guitar friends for their jam sessions and see their gigs at local bars. It’s the first topic I explore when I meet new people. I am now absolutely a Music Guy—though I still do not own a kickin’ stereo system.

So flashback to those Zoom conversations around Phish shows (which continued–and still does– with actual live stream Phish; even without the crew, I couch tour as much as I can). One night in late 2022, I believe, my friend Andy (level of Music Guy? Dude chose to live with his family in New Orleans so he could access arguably the best music scene in the country) asks if anyone has heard of a band called King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard? … Um… The who with the what now? King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizzard. They’re a band. Australian.

Our friend Andrew in NYC has heard of them. Says you never know what you’re gonna get with their shows. Could be metal. Could be groovy. Could be rock-country. Could get clubby. Says they seem to play all the genres of rock. And they have been ridiculously prolific, like multiple albums a year.

This fascinates me. So the next day, I go down the wormhole, as one does. 24 albums in ten years! Calendar years where they release five albums?! How are Paper Mâché Dream Balloon and Infest the Rats Nest the same band?! What even is this band?

The on-boarding with these guys is, to say the least, challenging. But then I read somewhere that I should start with Omnium Gatherum, cuz you know, it’s the only one that does all the genres. And that first song… “The Dripping Tap”… it hooks me. Hard. Like, for several days I’m rocking all 18 minutes and 17 seconds every time I get in the car. Sometimes just straight repeat from get-home-through-dinner-and-cleanup. I’m making my kids take in this song to the point of comedy. I start using it to measure driving distances (e.g. “Boston? Only four Taps away!”).

And it goes from there. Fishing For Fishies becomes a fave. I realize Changes is fantastic. On a drive to and from a college reunion, I decide to just go chronological from the beginning and do them all. I don’t dig the metal—it’s never been a genre I’ve enjoyed from any band—but that’s fine, there’s just so much there. I wish they’d make a full rap album. I want waaaayyy more of that harmonica in Fishies.

At said college Reunion, I’m talking them up to anyone who might be Gizz-curious. My friend Vermont (aka Dan), who lives on Long Island, is in. We introduce them to our dude Rerun (aka Mike). My potential personal Gizzverse is slowly growing.

2023: I’m fully committed. Spotify informs me I’m clocking more time with them than anybody else, and “This Thing” is my most played single song. I’m reading up on this band. I’m following whatever facebook fan groups I can find. They are the soundtrack to my weekly Chess Club advising at work, and I’m proselytizing the Church of King Gizz X to the music-loving teens. Though I attend a boatload of music that year, none of the KGLW tour dates work logistically-–I’m still heartbroken I couldn’t see them at the Hollywood Bowl just a few weeks after Meghan and I took in three nights of Phish there.

In the summer they announce some dates… for 2024, and, oddly enough, they go on sale more than a year in advance (I still don’t get that part). So, I plan to attend the two Forest Hills shows, one of them with Vermont and his teenage son. I’ve got a local friend on Cape, Dr. Dan, who is also digging my Gizzard album suggestions, so we buy tickets to the Boston show. Andrew, from the Spatchcocked Lizards, is going to be Mondegreening in Delaware that Forest Hills weekend, so I could stay at his empty place in Manhattan for those shows (thereby making an NYC summer weekend affordable). This genius plan then has me back home to Cape Cod for a Sunday with the family (Hey kids! … Gotta go, time for more rockin!), then on to Boston for three shows in four days. This is the highlight of an incredible slate of music I line up for my 2024 concert-attendance.

So… 2024: here we are and life happens. I attend a LOT of music. I continue to talk up Gizzard to anyone interested. At this year’s college Reunion (I go every year now… I mean, there’s always a live band), I chat up a few more Gizz-curious friends, including my old friend Sarah who lives in Boston. Before a Khruangbin show at the Hollywood Bowl (we were visiting my folks in LA already) I hear the guy behind me rating Gizz albums to his neighbor… and I realize I’ve worn the perfect show tee that night: my trippy KGLW. We talk up the band, and he tells me the Bowl show he saw in 2023 was incredible. I cannot WAIT for my maiden voyage into the Weirdo Swarm.

But… life happens. Vermont’s gotta help his boy move into college that same weekend as Forest Hills. Family first, obvs. Andrew’s cousins from Israel need his apartment that week, and of course, family first, totally understand. I try to find a way to make the money work to still attend the Forest Hills shows… but it’s just not in the cards. Then Dr. Dan can’t make the Boston show because camping with family has to be the same week. Again, family first, totally understand. I sell all my Forest Hills and one of my Bostons on CashOrTrade for face.

I’m still doing the Boston show, just solo. I’ve done solo shows and it’s fine: I make new friends and have a great time. But boy howdy, I’m bummed to be missing those NYC shows. I start to think about Portland. I tepidly pitch it to my wife… and she knows how much this means to me. She doesn’t mind managing our four kids, now ages 7 to 14, for two days so I can follow my passion for KGLW; she just asks me to keep it as inexpensive as possible (I mean, four college tuitions are imminent. Progeny ain’t cheap).

I find the Rodeway Inn in Revere / Boston Logan International Airport, a member of the Choice Hotels Network, for $170 total. Looks legit online, walkable to the show. Book it.

I find the Inn at St. John in Portland, looks maybe a bit shaky, but the reviews are strong. Walkable to the show for $182. Book it.

I text my old college friend Sarah to remind her of this Boston show. Turns out she hasn’t actually been to live music since a Phish in 1998. But she loves KGLW. She’s in.

I’ve got a text chain of music-loving fraternity brothers across the east coast that includes Vermont and Rerun. Last Thursday, out of the blue, Run posts a picture of himself and his wife outside the The Anthem in DC with the caption: “About to Gizz”. !!! I had no idea he was even considering a show, but afterwards, and again the following day, he calls it “the most exhilarating music experience of [his] life.” He wasn’t that big on ‘em before, but now he’s scheming up how to get more shows from this tour. His wife–whom, according to Run, tends not to go for his music--also loved the show. Most interesting is that he explains, like me, he just skips over the metal albums at home, but live? Says the metal is great. So much energy. His face hurt from smiling for three hours.

That fraternity brother text chain has new Gizzverse life. To try to find a stream of Run’s show, I stumble upon KGLW.net… and proceed to consume as much of the website as I can. I join and write a “first timer” post. Replies: there are dudes like me out there loving this band like I do. I read the 2024 Tour Guide. I dive into the Gizzverse posts. Now I’m spilling forth new knowledge on the text chain. I’m sharing the stream links. I’m getting my crew into this again and who’s comin’ with me to Portland?!?

Most can’t do a Tuesday in Maine but one can: Tonto (Matt, who is actually Run’s older brother) is two hours from Portland and he’s gonna pull off a drive in, drive out, barely-make-it-on-time-and-leave-fast-after-plan. It is SO on right now.

Monday I wake up early just vibrating with nervous optimism. It’s finally happening! Lots and lots of house things to do; gotta be a good dad and husband before I skip out for 48 hours on a rock odyssey. I pull it all off: laundry, dishes, food prep, scheduling some house work later in the week… and sandwiches, snacks, a cooler, and thoughtfully pre-planned concert tees packed for me. I’m gonna be responsible, do this on the cheap, and man, there’s just no way the band could live up to my expectations at this point.

On the way up, I fire up Tonto’s recently shared Gizz playlist, but skip a few songs at the start to get to the Gondii I see on there ‘cuz I love that one. I actually say out loud that I hope they play this one tonight. And I think about what else I’m hoping to hear these two nights: “This Thing,” “Hypertension,” the Mind Fuzz cycle, “Le Risque” (really, as much of the new stuff as possible: LOVING that album right now), and of course “The Dripping Tap.” I had checked the song stats and listened to all three prior shows on this tour on KGLW.net, and it looked unlikely for most of those. Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna soak it all in, whatever they play.

I get to Revere and… yeah, it’s an Official Rodeway Inn, it has all the right things in the right places… but it just feels sketch. Welp, no time to worry about that now; I have designs on a poster (I’m not usually a poster nutbag… but this is my first Gizzard! This is one I will frame) and I’ve read on the .Net that I need to get there as close to Doors Open as possible. I walk through Revere to the show and while that felt safe, I know it’s not gonna feel safe after 10pm. Fortunately Sarah drove to the venue and is happy to drive me back after. Sketch problem seemingly solved.

I arrive at the venue more than an hour after Doors Open, assuming I’ve missed my Merch stand poster window… but miracle of miracles, not only do they have posters, they still have the foils. I’m in. It’s gorgeous and belongs in my classroom. No cardboard tubes for secure handling, no way to stash it safely in a car (merch only sold inside the venue and there’s no re-entry) plus rain in the forecast, so maybe I’ll double bag it? And I brought my clear plastic “show bag” backpack to best protect it… we’ll see.

Sarah arrives shortly thereafter; college friend reunion time! Good to catch up as we find a spot just in front of the soundbooth and wait for the show to begin. We chat life and kid-rearing and music and because it’s going to rain, we’ve got jackets, water bottles, a blanket (I tend to over pack my show-bag) and now my double-wrapped foil “protected” on the ground in front of us. DJ Crenshaw is alright. Some dudes walk across the stage and on my way to the porta-johns, a guy looking less than happy about life is wearing a tee that says CHEESE… so I ask him if that was Cheese we saw walk across the stage just now. I play it straight and he loves the joke: dad humor power is on full-go.

Geese plays, and I’m maybe a bit bored at first… but then they hit some big blues stride, and that hooks me. Big bluesy rock is my favorite flavor of ear candy: more on that later.

It’s almost time. It’s happening. Some chatting with a fan next to us in a Phillies cap. I’m excited. He’s excited. We’re all excited and he’s specifically excited for us at our first KGLW show. This is his 8th, but he “does all the music, sees everybody.” With that one statement he makes clear that he’s doing exactly what I now wish I had been doing at his age. This is the place for me.

Crowd filling in fast now. 20-somethings in front of us are unsure what to do with their bags so I tell them to pile ‘em next to mine: it’s “Stuff Island.” Sarah laughs and tells me this is exactly the friend she remembers from our college years.

The inclusive message on the screen. If you’ve Weirdo Swarmed, I hope you’ve seen it, because to my impression it 100% sets the right vibe for what is about to happen. If you haven’t, well, here’s what it says:

As the weirdo swarm grows, we have to

work hard to keep our community inclusive.

The mosh pit is a safe place for young, old,

big, small, and ppl of all genders.

If you see any dickheads, alert security.

Look after each other in there and

BE YOURSELF.

We love you all. King Gizz X*

Me? I LOVE IT. I have seen this posted on the fan pages before, but didn’t realize it was an every show thing. These guys are trying to make this scene welcoming and right now, in this moment in the Pit, before my first show, me n’ Sarah here, we’re here to help.

They take the stage. There’s a bow from Stu and a lot of movement and roadies doing things. They are gathering around some sort of electronic table rife with dials and wiring. The Silver Cord album style opener? I had wondered how or even if they would do their electronica on stage: welp, this must be it. And here we go. Beat. Rhythm. Launch. AND IT IS COOL AS FUCK. Immediately I am all in on this music.

Now, I’m a dancer. I dance at shows–ALL the music shows. I go four hours if need be; I’m moving non-stop, much of it quite, ahem, athletically (I’m also a distance runner, which helps), and this type of techno? Best believe my dance bug is lit right now. It’s crowded down here in the Pit, but I’m moving right away.

Hold up now, this isn’t a Silver Chord song at all! It’s “Gondii”! First song hope hits–and how. It’s a banger. I’m in the Gizzverse and all is right. Sarah’s digging it too. Crowd gets crowded. Real crowded. Lots of movement. Stuff Island is in danger, but we’re holding our own.

Fade into next song: “Change.” Awesome. I don’t think of this as electronica Gizzard, but with this setup, the way they are bringing big club beat at us right now, crowded around that table–it most definitely is. And they are just playing with it. Finding grooves within the groove. Love love love.

“Extinction.” Honestly, they could just techno-table-club it like this all night and I’ll have a great show. But now Joey is on guitar and it’s moving towards more of a rock feel. I’m bouncing, Sarah’s enraptured, crowd is surging… and I’m barely protecting Stuff Island.

“The Grim Reaper!” Love their rare rap. It’s funny: when you look at the lyrics of this song, it’s goofy. And if you wanted to criticize, you could ask what in the ever-loving waltzing Matilda are these Aussies doing rapping at a show? But it absolutely works. It somehow feels stripped-down, all the sound being played with instruments rather than over-dubbing, with this big, raw rap bounce and it’s simply authentic and pure. Again I wonder why they don’t do a full rap album and follow this creativity wherever it goes.

But now, right as “Reaper” is hitting its big stride, some large bearded dude comes bounding up the pit and stomps right on Stuff Island. My foil! What a fool I am, bringing stuff of any value down here into the Pit. Whatever; that’s part of the poster’s story now, and I was never selling it anyways…

Backpack on, stuff gathered, no room to dance anymore, and I ask Sarah if she wants to move back into more open space. Absolutely, she says, so I follow her towards the back, and we find nice open grass, plenty of room to dance and still a solid view of the stage (on the left side now). “Much better!” Sarah yells over the now metal-as-fuck “Supercell” that follows “Reaper.”

It’s raining now (show bag covered with jackets and lawn blanket) and—yowzers—this grass is lush AF, so the obvious move is barefoot dancing time… even though the absolutely full-throttle thrash metal that Gizz is playing isn’t what most would call dance music. “Perihelion” (with a sit-in by a fan, dedicating it to his recently deceased friend who loved this band), “Hell,” “Gila Monster”… this is now a full-on thrash metal show.

I listen to a LOT of music and enjoy most of it. Not so much the metal. I’ve dutifully listened to each of Gizzard’s metal albums one time full through… and never a second time. But I’m experiencing what Rerun did on Thursday: these guys just have So. Much. Energy…. And somehow… I’m loving it. It’s not straight-foward, three minute songs, as I would expect within the metal genre: it’s a genuine jam, and in a genre that doesn’t usually get jammed. I can feel the fun they are having with simple but fast-as-fuck music. And it’s fun to be here for it.

Not to criticize, but in a way, metal has always sounded simple to me. On the other hand, I’ve been told (by actual musicians) that a not insignificant number of guitar virtuosos cut their chops in the genre. Billy Strings is the best example I can recall… Something in the idea that they reach a certain level of just being able to play any note in their head, and metal gives them the outlet to test their guitar athleticism. This makes sense to this amateur. Metal is young, athletic guitar rips over high-speed drums. And it’s what I perceive when these dudes are just metaling-out: it feels like they are pushing themselves to go as fast and hard as they can, like teenage sprinters or footballers who suddenly have man-strength, and need to test it all out for their own edification and amazement.

Then… “Magma.” Here we go now; I love this song. I love this whole album. This is the genre of Gizz I fell for: the bluesy, big-beat psychedelic rock. This is glorious. I’m fully occupying about ten square feet of dance space (there’s more than enough to go around on this fantastic lawn), the rain is falling, and this… this is… this is just everything I love about live music.

“Daily Blues.” Harmonica! So, I knew Ambrose is listed as the Harmonica guy, but other than Stu, I haven’t been entirely sure which name is which dude on stage (happens when album credits list like six instruments per member). And now I know which one he is on stage. Love that harmonica—which is probably why Fishies is my favorite album. It’s a simple instrument, but to my ears, it brings so much to a song. And… I challenge you to find a more powerful harmonica in all of music history than what Amby lays down. I tell Sarah I need to get up closer for some eyes on harmonica and dance my way back to the edge of the pit for a minute just to witness the live instrument from the musician that has defined my core ear candy for almost two years running.

Back to the big dance space next to my show buddy and we get a “Field of Vision,” followed by “Flight b741” (song debut—always cool to get one in a set list), and then a Sad Pilot… we’re staying in the blues rock genre and I couldn’t be happier. This is absolutely my jam, my center of song that defines my joy in music, and they are giving it up good and hard. Jams within my jam. This is the place for me.

A note on “jamming”: I think that when your average American thinks of a “jam band” today, they picture an aged-version of the Grateful Dead scene: some airy guitar noodling over lo-fi country compositions and crusty hippies spinning in circles. I get that; there’s some apt history in the stereotype. And yes, a lot of hippies—crusty or not, spinning or otherwise—enjoy jam bands. But folks confuse “jam band” with “genre.” The Dead would jam in a certain alt-country-bluegrass. Phish jams [mostly] in prog rock. Billy Strings jams in traditional bluegrass. Lettuce jams in funk and Les Claypool jams in Les Claypool. Jamming is improvisational music, and jam bands—when good—jam together. They listen to each other and play with it. Any genre can be jammed. The music I love attending is 90% jam bands: what is fun as fuck to dance to is their improvisation, feeling where they are going to go, living the building crescendos… honestly, when this experience is your baseline expectation for event attendance, live music that sounds exactly like it does on its studio album becomes boring.

So, most bands that jam do so solely within their chosen genre. Some, like Phish, enjoy wide breadth on this front… but to my knowledge, there has never been a jam band with the dynamic range of KGLW. If they weren’t jamming the metal, I probably wouldn’t like it. But I feel the build and their insane energy, recognize the experimentation and their joyful play. Somehow the genre doesn’t matter; it’s their jamming that makes it feel like we are witnessing music incarnate.

At this point in the show, I can sense that they want to get back to metal. “Wah Wah,” an impressive composition, showcases their moves between noodly psych rock and big crashing metal. It feels both free and orchestrated, careful yet intense. My brain is entirely in their hands during this stretch of the show, and it reminds me of the John Dewey quote I have at the bottom of my work email: “To be playful and serious at the same time is possible, and it defines the ideal mental condition.”

“Wah Wah” fades into “Road Train”… they Just. Have. To. Metal. Out… again. It’s like all that slower noodling pent up their energy and they need another thrash. Again, it’s technically perfect execution and with the light rain reflecting the light show and trippy monitor, this is Rock City.

“Hypertension!” The next day, when I will ask Phriends to give Gizzard a go, I will point to this one. It’s got the soaring psych rock germane to Phish, and then becomes more intense, showcasing their Wall of Guitar chops. If you like Phish and don’t enjoy the song “Hypertension,” Gizzard probably isn’t ever going to work for you.

But I love it. This one full-on slaps… and it ends with a hard rock jam out crescendo. I love this song on Laminated Denim and seeing it live affirms what I presumed: this band live >>> this band’s albums (like every jam band).

“Float Along – Fill Your Lungs” closer. I didn’t realize it would be the closer when it began… I figured we had another 30 minutes. Only a two hour show? This is my sole disappointment in the night (not kidding, I don’t care that my poster got pit stomped; feels more authentic now, barefoot and rained on; don’t care that I’m soaked; don’t care that my motel is sketchy. All part of the glorious story). The song is a perfect final selection: long slow psychedelic rock build, gentle noodling… and crescendo into a hard metal close.

I knew they wouldn’t do a set break nor an encore, but I’m still disappointed. It simply feels too early for a rock show to end.

We join the slow Weirdo Swarm walk out. Sarah’s first concert in 26 years was a joy. My first Gizzard show was everything I could have asked for… other than another two hours of it. Great to see an old friend, and to share our love of music; I think this will be our first of many shows together. We are both buzzing on this experience and exchanging music interests and recs and stories as we flow with traffic out into Revere and she drops me off at the Rodeway Inn Revere / Boston Logan International Airport, a member of the Choice Hotels network.

I spend the next couple hours trying to capture my experience via thumbs on my phone to friends across the country. I wish I had brought my laptop so I could start composing this writing. I pledge to do this writing when the trip is over.

Around midnight, there are gunshots on Route 1A outside the motel. Fire and return fire: I count maybe 14 while I am lying on the floor behind the thickest part of my motel room (I did grow up in L.A. county and know about stray bullets). There’s a LOT of loud late night activity in nearby rooms. Friends, do not stay at this motel. Maybe just bail on the whole Choice Hotels network. This was on a Monday night.

Anyhooooo… next day, it’s on to Portland. After an obligatory lunch stop at an Anna’s Taqueria (I think I ate there about nine times a week when I lived in Brookline right after college), I make the easy drive up the coast to Maine. Despite living in New England for much of my adult life, I’ve never spent any real time in Portland, and I’m thrilled to see the Thompson’s Point venue jutting out into the water as I drive over the I-295 bridge towards downtown. I knew what this landform would be from looking at googlemaps, but seeing it from my car windshield… the funxiety for tonight’s show suddenly sets in.

The Inn at St. John allows me a slightly early check-in, and I’m relieved that it’s not sketchy in the least… clearly other members of the Swarm are staying here too as I see Fishman donuts and other obvious signs of jam band culture amongst my fellow clientele. I intend to take a disco nap… but I’m too excited for the show. I decide instead to don my distance running gear and go for a jog through downtown, the theory being: I can burn some nervous energy AND sight-see downtown, thereby completing a side-quest of the trip.

The 3.69 mile run is nice for the former, but not so much the latter: turns out all the sidewalks of Portland are choppy bricks molded into achilles-snapping mounds by decades, if not centuries, of tree root growth… so the only sights I see are my foot-falls to avoid injury. This takes me longer than expected, while also inspiring the careful thought to secure a second poster for my second show–but NOT the foil this time (stop spending money, you nit-wit!)--so now I’m in my hustle to get to the venue. Quick lobby coffee to cover for the missed nap, a shower, cool Les Claypool tee, cargoes, my run shoes back on (they double as show dancers), pack the show bag, sunglasses and visor and I’m out the door.

Google says it’s a 27-minute walk but for a badass runner like me, that’ll be a smooth 24, thank you very much. Path leads under a bridge where a couple junkies appear to be about to shoot up and I suddenly feel very alone in my journey. Tonto had texted that he’d probably miss Geese, he’s coming with his friend Alex, and will likely get there not long before Gizzard takes the stage. My speed-walking catches me up to a young couple (I’m guessing early 20s) on their way to the show. My extroversion leads me to talking them up about music, but then they are strolling fairly slowly and I want to get to that poster. When a bicycle taxi dude pulls up offering to ferry us the rest of the way—working on tips, he says when I ask—I take the opportunity to say goodbye to the slow young’uns. Bike Taxi Dude is playing Phish’s Fluffhead on his speaker so I chat him up about music and show attendance, which he claims to love… but while he says he likes and attends the music he’s playing for customers, when asked for specifics, he grudgingly acknowledges that he’s never been to a Phish show. Two days later, I’m still not sure what to make of this exchange. In the moment, I give him $6 for the two-minute ride.

Security check and sure, I’ll get a wristband to buy a beer. My hair is entirely gray, so handing the dude my ID, I tell him it’s my 21st birthday. He chuckles, looks at my Massachusetts Drivers License, then says, “October 14th? We have the same birthday.” I inform him that so did John Wooden and point to my UCLA visor. Winning.

My haste has led me not to realize that my small container of totally legal gummy product was in my clear-plastic show bag, so like an idiot I go through security with it right in plain sight. Young man: “This… is a no-go. You can go put it back in your car if you like, or…” Me: “Donate it to a good cause, young man; I need to go buy a poster.” What a time to be alive.

Doors opened at 5, it’s now well past 6, and according to what I’ve read, there’s little chance I can still get tonight’s print. But I get in the Merch line and… they still have posters AND foils AND last night’s poster! Demand for these limited items has clearly been exaggerated online. The standard print is on a yellow background and that will match great with the holographic foil of Night 1, so I buy it for $50. Again, no complementary cardboard tube, just plastic bags… but I’m not doing Pit tonight, so I’m not worried.

Thompson’s Point is truly a cool venue. It’s low tide and so instead of the water I saw from the bridge this afternoon, we are now surrounded by mud flats on three sides. I’m not hungry, but the food truck options are impressive. I do buy a beer, and I’m glad to see the good stuff is only $12, not the $18 I’ve come to expect from most music or sports venues. Thompson’s point also allows chairs and has clearly segregated the “Pit” area from the “chair” area, which I appreciate.

A note on this: I both despise and embrace the territorialism that occurs at General Admission music shows. It’s weird yet somehow turns out to be necessary–especially if, like me, you come to dance. Yes, I want the egalitarian share and everyone should be able to get close to the performance if they chose. But also, there’s something to be said for giving the time (or money) to show up early and get the space you need to enjoy your experience. I don’t like the system. I don’t like claiming space. I very much don’t like defending space. But I also don’t like being crowded out or forced to move to the undanceable back (this one woulda been gravel and concession stands) when I’ve made a real effort to get to the show early. So, Meghan and I are in the habit of bringing our Phish Riviera Maya blankets (our one and only Resort Phish experience–beach blankets were the giveaway in 2022) to shows and throwin’ ‘em down for some claim. We accept a giant dash of “what happens, happens” but we make a baseline effort for some claim when apt. All told, it seems like the path of least resistance for our good time, and I don’t know a better answer. Still, territorialism doesn’t feel great.

Back to the show, and I take my time meandering around the venue, snapping some pics of the scene to send to Meghan (side-note: been texting with her throughout the sojourn; kids were on tenterhooks to know if I got a “Dripping Tap” yet–”No, but I love that they cared!”), taking it all in. I casually walk up to a spot around folks in the lawn chair section, not far from the front border (this will be notable later in the story), and throw down my Riviera Maya blanket (I’ve got friends coming soon, and I want to yell this to everyone around me to justify my actions… but don’t), set the backpack safely in front of me to increase the claim (no Pit stomped poster this time, dammit), and take it all in.

There is a young family just behind me to my right against the barricade. My grass here is good, potentially barefoot quality, but not nearly the lush Suffolk Downs lawn of last night. Solid view of the stage and maybe just beyond necessary ear protection range. Crowd looks a lot like last night: mostly 20-somethings, with some oldies like me sprinkled in. Attire, hair choices, mannerisms, and what it all says about ‘em varies quite a bit. Like the band, it seems many music genres are represented. This makes sense; in my 20s I might have come only for the hard psych rock. I see Sonia Begonia and some other Neighborly faces nearby; I’m glad to know this particular fan overlap isn’t just me. Somehow, the vibe here feels more fun and friendly than last night. Not sure why. Am sure that the energy and cohesion is stronger. Am certain this will be a great show.

I’ve made eye-contact with one of the parents of the toddlers behind me to my right, and since parenting toddlers is super-easy, I ask her to just keep an eye on my show bag (poster) while I grab a second $12 beer 20 feet away.

Mixed thoughts on bringing your kids to shows. On the one hand, AWESOME to give your kids this. My parents were doing Dead shows when I was young—though they are not at all what you picture: Dad is the fan and he’s a traditional Republican lawyer who is in fact socially liberal but in every other way classically conservative and the last guy you’d expect to appreciate people like Jerry Garcia and Phil Lesh and wax poetic about the days of Donna… but he does. Mom enjoys radio music: seeing John Fogerty with her at the Bowl was a good time, as he cycled through a dozen guitars to make each song sound just like you remember… but despite enjoying radio song performances over the improvisational, she would have fun at Dead shows with Dad. Unless they were wearing one of their tie-dyed show tees, you would have no idea they ever attended live music that didn’t include 100% of the audience being seated.

As Whitman wrote, “[we] contain multitudes”, and while I deeply appreciate the music and culture they did expose me to as a child, maybe I would have become Music Guy earlier in life had they also taken me to the style of music performance that I now love.

On the other hand… parenting and having your own fun are anathema. We’ve taken kids to one day of the Levitate fest in Marshfield, Mass twice now, and sure, it’s fun in its certain way of combining your joy with their experience… but you’re still parenting the whole time. I did offer my 14-year-old son a ticket to one night of the last Phish run at Mansfield, and wanted him to take it and go with both his parents (he knows the music, obviously, and would have genuinely gotten into it) but it was his one night between a science camp and a Scout camp and he made the mature decision to get a big, long sleep that night instead. I took my three daughters to a Taylor Swift cover act (named Let’s Sing Taylor!; they were professional) at a local, crappy venue and everyone—including me—saw friends and had fun… so I’m laying the groundwork for Taylor-Tot music attendance joy, but that’s a side project to the Bryan Does Shows primary plotline.

Long thematic digression. Plot point is: Portland show had a number of families there. Your mileage on this practice may vary.

To my left was a couple I’d place in their early 60s. I decide to chat ‘em up. They are recently retired and now doing all the music they couldn’t do when younger and working. We exchange band notes; they tell me to check out Wetlegs and I recommend Neighbor. This is their first Gizzard and I tell them about mine last night. Conversation reaches a natural conclusion when, to my right, a couple closer to my age (late 40s) starts setting up. These would become my new friends of the night: Jan and Eve, from Waterbury, Vermont. Jan has a Phish shirt on so obviously we start there. Like me, they are getting in the shows that they can with their busy lives. Gizzard is one that Jan saw once two tours ago and he’s hoping his wife Eve will be as compelled by their dynamism as he is. Good people; we are now connected on social media, and I hope they read this on KGLW.net (in fact, I have come to find out Jan is indeed on the .Net here!).

Geese plays and it seems like mostly the same set as last night. Front man says they have a 45 minute set (last night they played for 28) but I’m not sure they actually reach it. Apparently it’s one member’s birthday and he’s 22. I affirm with my spot neighbors that the folks on stage right now are all still basically children.

Tonto arrives! Good dude, all smiles, eager for some rock. Introduces me to his much younger and very tall (6’ 6”! A blessing and, if compassionate, a burden for a GA show) friend Alex. This will be the first Gizzard for both of them. Tonto is coming in with something approaching my particular knowledge and enthusiasm while Alex is just primed for a good time.

The inclusive Weirdo Swarm message shows up and I point it out to them. Alex wonders why people is spelled “ppl” and I’m surprised I didn’t notice this last night. There’s no need for space saving in this message and no other words are shortened. We wonder if it’s teen slang we oldies don’t know. Alex informs this English teacher that taking all the vowels out of a word like that is called ‘disemvowelling.’ Punny guy, but no time for that now, King Gizz X has set up the electronica tables again.

A welcome and Joey informs us, “We’re gonna try n’ play some techno for a little bit.” Stu instructs us to look around at this beautiful place, notices some boaters in the bay, Ambrose throws in an odd “Fuck you guys” to the boaters (?) while Stu invites them to come on over. The banter is goofy and would be awkward if they were not so completely confident in what they are doing as the sublime strains of “Theia” slowly take over.

It’s Club Gizz again and I am ALL IN. It’s weird: I don’t dial up this type of music on my Spotify. Mostly, in the music world at-large, this genre of music is pretty okay in my book. But when these guys do it, and especially live here, it just hooks me. Bigtime. My dance bug is immediately lit. Neither Tonto nor Alex share it, but they dig my enthusiasm.

Rewatching the official YouTubes of the show, it’s interesting to see how they do this. I’m fairly certain all the drums are still Cavs (sidenote: he’s fucking incredible). Joey oscillates between his guitar and the Techno Table. I think Cook is driving most of it while Stu and Ambrose do the viby accents and lead the vocals–but honestly, I’m probably wrong and have no idea how it actually works. They are all very engaged with that table: it is loaded with wires and buttons and tech that I will never understand. Live and in the audience, it’s ear candy. Show video recording later on, I’m trying to figure out how their actions become the sounds we are hearing.

A natural transition to “The Silver Cord” follows for more Techno Gizzard. Like any ace jamband, the move is seamless. I love when these guys make a series of songs feel like a single song. TSC clocks in at 23 minutes and 19 seconds, with all the rise and fall and play and feels of a great jam. Cavs is blowing me away. I’m kinda bummed when it’s over. As their crew wheels away the Techno Table, Stu says, “Thank you for letting us do that shit! Genuinely feel truly grateful that, umm, we can do that in front of all you people and people don’t leave. It’s fucking fun for us and… you know, maybe people like techno out there, you know?”

They then don their usual guitars and launch into a monster “Gaia.” I have a sense that metal is the baseline for this band, that they first landed listeners with their high-octane thrash and so every show needs some core death metal foundation. I don’t know if this is true, but I wonder if they’ve ever done a show that didn’t include a sizeable chunk of simply thrashing out?

Tonto is stoked to get this “Gaia.” This was his one.

Cavs’ superlative drums transition seamlessly into “Flamethrower,” another throw-down metal epic. For the second time in two nights, I am fully engrossed in a genre of music I do not otherwise enjoy.

Tangent: as a Phish fan who sees the light-rig mastery of Chris Kuroda on the reg, I take for granted the light and image work of other creatives in the field. “T”, as in “Light ‘em up, T!” (I don’t know his / her / their actual name!) is excellent in this arena. The rig isn’t large, but it’s spot-on, and the image screen is a big-time creative add to the experience. As my friend Mike in Toronto (from the Spatchcocked Lizards) will say after seeing them the following night, “The act is like a real time explosion of creativity.” I felt the visuals were particularly experience-plus with the metal portions.

Next up was “Mars for the Rich,” which would turn out to be the perfect transition between the metal and what the rest of the show becomes. Afterwards, some goofy commentary about “Fuck Elon Musk… he sleeps in a race car… see, he was gonna be a good guy, but then…” Honestly, these guys and their words in-show are goofy AF… but also they loathe Donald Trump, they reminded everyone in New York that JD Vance fucked a couch, they call out bad actors, and they love Trey Anastasio, so I give them a full-access pass on the dumb, weird words and goofy noises they blurt between songs.

Joey, with a cringy, high-pitched laugh, informs us, “Alright, now it’s my turn,” and we get my #1 song: “This Thing.” I inform everyone around me (several of whom, as at most shows I attend, have told me by this point that my dancing is inspirational) that this is my all-time #1 song and I am thrilled to get it. It’s everything I could hope for from a live performance. Big bounce, all the Ambrose harmonica, large to low and back up again, jam out the break-down acceleration… and this band is 100% in my mind right now with this song.

Can I even be surprised that the next song is “I’m In Your Mind”? Of course it is. Cuz they fucking are. This is the high-speed, big bluesy psychedelic rock that has made King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard my #1 music act and they are giving me a no-holds-barred Rock City experience. As I well know, and I tell Tonto and Alex, this will now be the full four-song Mind Fuzz cycle of “I’m In Your Mind > I’m Not In Your Mind > Cellophane > I’m In Your Mind Fuzz” that constitutes the first four tracks of their first true psych rock studio album, 2014’s I’m In Your Mind Fuzz. The cycle takes a bit over 16 minutes-–played fairly faithfully to, albeit far more intensely than, the album tracks, and I could not be happier with this set list. Stu’s antics reflect my energy which reflect the band’s energy which reflect the crowd’s energy and I think even the toddlers behind me feel this right now.

So I’ve now got “This Thing” AND the Fuzz cycle out of my show, but did I mention that they were in my mind? Because of course the next song is “Le Risque.” The jam out middle is solid and they’ve nailed what would be a hit single if radio trends ever went as I think they should. Crowd is bouncing and we are in for another big bluesy night of psych rock. Fact is, they’ve hit the same pattern both of my Gizzard nights: electronica, metal, bluesy psych rock. Joey affirms my assessment by informing the crowd, “Tonight feels like deja vu from last night… but way sicker” and I couldn’t agree more. It’s everything I love from this band right now, and lots of it—a bigger helping than in Boston. They are entirely in my mind fuzz.

Bouncy fun blues rock continues with the debut (!) of “Rats in the Sky.” Down here on the ground, Alex has gone adventuring some time ago, Tonto went “to look for Alex”, Alex comes back to ask where Tonto went, I shrug, I continue to dance, and I tell him that I hope they play some metal so I can go pee. Instead it’s “Iron Lung,” which I also love, but dammit, I really have to pee, so I put my shoes on (grass wasn’t Suffolk Downs good, but good enough) and ask him to watch my bag /poster. In retrospect, my Iron Lung pee journey here was a favorite moment of the night. I’m singing the words and walk-dancing the whole way, and the good vibes are reflected right back at me by my fellow Gizz-heads. On the return I’m practically bounce-jogging and clearly shedding music-fun positivity in my path. I reach Alex and use his 6-foot-6 shoulders to heighten my jump at the yelly-part and once again I’m in Rock City, population: this crowd.

Thinking back on it, the Portland crowd was everything I want this scene to be. Less so Boston, but no need to dwell on negativity. At Portland I saw a wide demographic, and in particular younger folks seeming to appreciate the passion of the oldies like me. I don’t know where or how the Weirdo Swarm will develop, but I am deeply encouraged by what I saw in Portland, from my hotel to the venue and back and all points surrounding.

I make a mental note that “Iron Lung” is now in my list of faves as some goofy banter leads to Ambrose doing an awkward lounge singer act for “Let Me Mend The Past.” It's fun, the band is having fun, and this is the one time in the two nights that I remember the best prior template for what this band does is Ween.

Of course KGLW is so much more than Ween (whom I do love) and as proof, Stu whips out the flute for a rocking “Trapdoor.” This is a bouncing dancer for just about everybody, including the toddler dad behind me doing yeoman’s work to make this fun for his kids as the night gets late.

Stu Mackenzie is a rock star. He lives it with his energy and talent and the fact that he can make a freaking flute rocking-as-fuck is testament to the fact that this weird Aussie can and should give our world great music for another 50 years.

There’s a pause. There’s some banter. There’s a “Light ‘em up, T!” A beach ball bounces across the stage. Thanks to the opening act. Thanks to the crew. An “Are you ready?” We are ready…

Oh my god, it’s happening: the slow, sultry strains of the “The Dripping Tap” intro. HERE WE FUCKING GO! Then the launch and it is on like Donkey Kong. I yell-tell Eve and Jay I thought we had NO CHANCE for a Tap but here we are! I am giving my rock-drained dance muscles everything I have left. It is epic and I have the wherewithal to realize I have never experienced a rock show as fun and fulfilling as this one. At the first pause (the point in the song where, at home, I tell my kids, “this would be a logical place to end the song…. But wait, there’s more!”) Stu starts singing about being taken away by Portland, Maine… and there’s some long slow down jam… and then almost a complete stop, with some further improvised lyrics about Stu “swimming in the lake”... and I have in fact had to put in my ear protection for this show and I’m trying to tell Alex about some history on this song during this slow-down, so it’s not quite registering for me that they are making specific plans here… then the song accelerates again through it’s second epic rock crescendo, and there’s more Stu talking and improvised lyrics… but I’m in my Rock City dance mode again so I’m unclear what’s being planned on stage… and now there’s a crowd surfer coming my way with an inflatable dinosaur bouncing on the Pit and up into the lights behind him, so I gotta get this on camera. I snap nine seconds of Epic Rocking on my phone before the crowd surfer comes down right in front of me (where the Pit ends and the dance space begins, obvs), and HOLY FUCK IT’S STU! It suddenly clicks that he’s on his way into the water and I know where the entrance is so I put my hand on his shoulder and point towards the bay access point between crowd barriers and he’s off! There’s immediately a huge crowd behind him, so I sorta follow, but what’s the point–he’s already been swallowed by the Swarm so I’ll just keep on rocking. A while later he’s been surfed back the other way up to the stage and the band launches a soaring crescendo finish. EPIC ROCK CITY CLOSER.

I know they won’t do an encore. I know we got our two hours of Gizzard. But dammit, I want more. I can’t help but immediately share these nine recorded seconds with every rock fan I can think of. I bathe in the moment with Alex, and then with Eve and Jay. Alex is off to find Tonto for a quick exit. I affirm with my new friends that I’ll find them on Facebook. I slowly stroll out with the Swarm, making a new music friend along the way (who had just seen Primus the other night; I’m wearing my Les Claypool tee), fading into the night abuzz with music electricity.

Inn was a great place to decompress. Discussed the show with other attendees in the Lobby a good while. Every Gizzhead is buzzing and the vibe is great. I have only positive impressions of the The Inn at St. John. Please do not hesitate to support this wonderfully located and managed hotel within walkable distance of Thomposon’s Point.

The next day I squeeze in my walking tour of downtown Portland before heading back down to Cape to rejoin my life. En route there is sudden 50 to 0 emergency braking on Route 1 north of Boston. Though I thought I had packed my Honda Odyssey correctly to avoid this, my suitcase in the back of the “ManVan” slides into my double-wrapped posters. Part of the story. Having those suckers framed.

The next day I post the full show video link (thank you, KGLW.net) on Facebook with the caption: “This was the best and most fun concert of my life.” And it absolutely was. I’ve been pestering my friends with my enthusiasm for what these young, goofy Aussies did over the two weekday nights of music that I was able to attend. I’ve never felt this way about a show. I’ve never felt this way about a band. The question is… why?

Three nights after this show, as I take in a live stream of their acoustic set in Detroit and attempt to conclude what’s going to end up being over 10,000 words surrounding this rock sojourn (thank you for staying with me, Gentle Reader), I’m genuinely stuck on this question. What makes them so compelling? I’m 47 years old yet giddy like a teen about what these dudes are doing with music. Yes, I’m an over-exuberant guy with a lifelong addictive personality: the things I get into, I REALLY get into. And I’ve been really into music, and specifically Phish, for four years now. I’ve had short periods of obsessions with bands; the one that feels most analogous to this thing with Gizzard was discovering, I mean really discovering, Led Zeppelin around age 17. I was convinced those guys were the greatest rock band ever. But even that falls short of my excitement for being in the Weirdo Swarm.

But… why? Here are my best attempts at answers:

As I wrote above, watching them play somehow feels like witnessing music incarnate. They pull off intricate, complicated songs whilst “wooing” like college kids. They radiate Energy and Fun. They are incredibly talented musicians who clearly take their work seriously while taking themselves… not seriously at all. Men-children at play. Virtuosos goofing off. Zooming from Silly Town to Rock City like so many jet engines.

I don’t know what their personal music histories / influences may be, but I do know it must be broad. I remember seeing a rockumentary about Nirvana some time ago and one of the talking music heads on there (like Kurt Loder or some dude) making this claim that Nirvana pulled together all the strands of rock—that you could hear the blues and the country and the do-wop and everything in there, or something like that. I don’t really agree with that claim about Nirvana, but that concept stuck with me because I remember thinking at the time: what would that really sound like? To bring all the strands of rock—a century of music history—together? How does that actually play out for a band?

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard is my best answer yet to that question. And they don’t just bring a mastery of Western rock strands: these music nerds actually have “microtonal” instruments. Look this up on Wikipedia. I did, and I learned that our 12-note thing is really just a Western concept; Eastern music can have up to 27 notes, and one can buy instruments that play the notes we don’t have here in the Anglo world. If you watch the acoustic set in Detroit, you can see them put down their usual instruments and pick up microtonal guitars that look the same, play a song that seems like a western-music style composition… yet sounds like something you’d expect to hear from India. It’s wild.

And despite the fact that they now have some 27 albums plus a mess of live recordings out there—while only being a band for 12 years-–it feels like they are still at the beginning. According to other fan writers, they only began these full jam-style shows after pandemic; they are only three tours in on the way that they play now. The fan base seems to just be figuring itself out. There’s a sense of total unpredictability and adventure, that they have begun scaling a mountain of which we cannot yet see the peak. It feels like they have only just recently achieved a full grip on their creative firehose, that their future will be an unassailable gush of music intensity.

I’m trying to pin down why this resonates so deeply for me, personally. Most who know me would describe me as an intense guy, and maybe that’s it: this band breathes intensity. Their musical peaks are about channeling concentrated talent and artistry. So there’s that. And then they are just having so much fun with it. That vibes for me: I want the band I’m paying to see play music to be genuinely enjoying what they are doing and letting everyone know it. So then there’s that too. And of course their main musical genre seems to be the bluesy psychedelic rock that is my favorite flavor of ear candy. So you also have that.

But… maybe it’s simply about the fact that I am on a musical journey and so are they. I’m four years into this thing and will not stop until it is no longer possible. I feel like Stu, Joey, Cook, Lucas, Ambrose, and Cavs are also on a journey and will not stop. They are in my mind fuzz, and I, theirs.

Like Phish, this band will get me into other bands. Like Phish, I’m all-in with the crowd that attends these things: I love being a Phan and now I want to grow the Weirdo Swarm. Part of the reason I began this writing project was to add value to the wonderful, much larger project at KGLW.net. I’m going to continue to contribute positively to the Gizzverse in words, actions, and attitude—I hope to write more for this space in the future. I also believe myself to be a force for good in the Donut Universe, albeit of the passive variety. I will be active here; I am inspired to compose for the Swarm.

I have now written over 10,000 words about this experience (again, I thank you, Gentle Reader, for coming with me, ), and like Phish, this band has a grip on my love of music beyond just the songs that they play. This band makes me think about what it is that I love about music, what it is to follow a band and go to shows and make it a deep and meaningful part of your life. This band has me reflecting on how and why music gives me joy.

All I can really say is that I am all-in and I’m never going back. This is the place for me. Long live the Weirdo Swarm. Long live King Gizzard & The Wizard Lizard.

Thank you for reading and I hope to see you out there.

-BDT