poster by Jason Galea

words by AlteredBeef; concert photo credit to Photon Obscura

(Part One)

Part Two finds our band of four travelers seeking a moment’s refuge from their desert journey at Luchia’s Restaurant, Mojave County, Arizona. In our rush to leave Vegas behind, Natalie, Brent, Brent, and I burned out of town without even a bite of breakfast figuring we’d stop on the way. I had an excuse; I’d never been to this part of the country before. The others? I can only guess it was still being rattled from the ripping show we’d just seen that each person's mind was not yet reconnected to their hungry body.

What was on the way was the Mojave Desert and endless miles of craggy expanse. Sure, we could have stopped in Kingman, and we did for gas and coffee, but we had our sights set on an oasis called Luchia’s. We were to carve around Hualapai Peak and head south down US-93 towards the unincorporated town of Wikieup. I’ll tell you, by the time we got to Luchia’s, I was fully ready to wikie up.

photo by AlteredBeef

Having fed the peacocks and greeted the pot-bellied pig, and purchased turquoise trinkets for our loved ones back home, we squeezed back into our rented Rogue and said “Phoenix or Bust.” I’d been on a diet since the last notes of “Set” disintegrated into the August night at the end of my Leg 1 run of D.C., Forest Hill, and Philly. I’d done pretty well, too. I’d managed to hit a goal weight I’d set for myself years before that I could only ever get close to but not touch. Before my flight to Vegas, I’d finally gone below 225. Size L shirts fit okay, and my belt was on the last hole. But, full of enchiladas and coconut cream pie, the glut of it just didn’t matter to me then. I’m not the kind of person who binges in any kind of way (okay, I do with music), but it’s just human nature to seek corporeal pleasure to cope with loss and distress.

The election hung heavy as I scanned the Arizona roadway and thought about the people who live off in these desert compounds, visible in the distance and distant from anybody else. These rusted out assemblages of busted pickups, perforated water tanks, and rickety fencing set my imagination ablaze. Was it their fault? Was it those people sitting in Luchia’s? Was it Luchia herself? Who’d done this to us? But then "Daily Blues" floated back into my awareness, and I imagined hugging those people. Fuck no! Never! But...really? Is that me? Are we really so damaged and divided? I’d bet the band has had plenty of these kinds of conversations themselves as they prepare to look out onto these crowds who didn’t do enough to avoid our global fate. It’s a lot easier to hug an enemy when you’re bigger than them.

During the five or six hours of driving, I never lost my appetite for the scenery, and even remarked when hearing we were 30 minutes away that I could go for at least another couple hours of desert glory. Our companions were more of the mindset that, sure, they enjoyed the desert, too, but they’d had enough. We didn’t take the long way, and, instead, Gizzhenge Brent and I found ourselves in downtown Phoenix after dropping off Brent and Natalie at their hotel. I made my way straight to the hotel restaurant for a second round of enchiladas and some Dos Equis, then I took a nap.

I woke to Brent’s pre-show rustling, experiencing that momentary disorientation felt when waking from a nap in an unfamiliar place. Piece by piece, it came back. Enchiladas, Hotel San Carlos, Phoenix, the desert, enchiladas, the desert, an emoji on the skyline, Shanghai, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. Yes, those were the stable objects of my experience, and I shook off the grogginess to go get some more.

PHOENIX

I had a single ticket to this show seated by myself, so I hung around the lobby for a while before going in. I just took in the scene and chatted with people as they passed by, including some who I’d met at other stops along the way or who I was meeting for the first time. It's been kind of amazing to recognize plenty of people at all of these shows no matter where I am. Brent and Natalie entered just a bit later looking well refreshed from the car ride. Brent had a photo pass, so he was looking to get set up, and I soon made my way into the theater. This one looked and felt much more like a big box. Even so, it was filling up and Gizz was about to take the stage. I’d managed a window seat on the flight to Vegas, but Phoenix saw me right in the middle of two groups of people. The one on my right was two cousins: both from Jersey but one lives in Cali now. They met in Phoenix to see the Jets game, they were seeing some basketball, and they threw in a King Gizzard show because the one guy’s son is a big fan. They were both hoping for some metal.

Gaia>Gila, Motor Spirit, Flamethrower>Gaia, Mars for the Rich! Bristling opener and my buddies to the right were clearly enjoying it. I was, too. I did not get into Gizz because of the metal, but I might have got hooked because of it. I found an energy within me that I rarely released. Metal at a Gizz show cranks open that tap. I’ve always been a dancer–okay, not always a dancer. I was a very self-conscious person when I first started going to concerts around the age of 16. I’d kinda rhythmically hunch my shoulders, but I’d think a lot about myself while I was doing moving. I’d watch other people dancing so beautifully, wonder what I looked like, certain it wasn’t graceful or beautiful or good. I’d wonder if my hands were doing the right things, if my head looked weird the way it was bobbing, or whether I was actually keeping with the rhythm at all. That makes sense for a young person new on the scene looking for connections and to be accepted. As a 42-year-old, I no longer think about those things that much, or, at least, not in the same ways. I have an easier time with raw feels. And that means I move a lot, and I headbang, and I shout, and I probably don’t look graceful or beautiful or good but isn’t that the beauty of it? In any case, this was a raucous set of metal. My fifth “Gaia”! “Gila” right near the Gila National Forest! And the fact that they segued back into Gaia was just perfect. I felt fully a part of the scenery.

Closing the metal set with “Mars for the Rich” could not have been better. That’s really one of my very favorite Gizz songs. That’s the song I put on after a particularly dicey work situation that a colleague and I escaped. When we got into his truck to leave that tough meeting, he said, “Let’s listen to some loud fucking music.” I put on “Mars for the Rich” and we raged it hard on repeat all the way home. I let loose just about as loosely then as I did in Phoenix next to my two new buddies from Jersey, who high fived and splashed their beers in celebration of the metal set.

photo by Photon Obscura

“This Thing” is always a fun one, especially as a sing-along. There’s just something about singing in unison about an unidentifiable soaking object. Joey ripped on this solo, and KGLW.net rightly marked it as a notable version.

“Crumbling Castle” and “The Fourth Colour” both also got the notable version treatment at this show, and I’d say even more deservedly than “This Thing.” The band decided to jam out both of these songs. The most memorable part of the sequence to me was when Stu screamed us to the drop back into those spinning notes of Fourth Colour. At that moment, I always imagine I’m watching a kaleidoscope turn.

“Nuclear Fusion.” I’m lucky to have heard this three times. This one might not have been the best audience part of the song compared to the Salt Shed ‘23 and Forest Hills versions. Still, this one gets me moving every time. That funky fusion is my favorite.

photo by Photon Obscura

Out comes Nathan. Turkish disco time! Now, it had occurred to me earlier that my metal-loving first-timer neighbors would likely meet the band’s table of electronic instruments and snaking cables. The night before, I heard “Interior People,” which I seemed a distant dream before this tour started. Now “Intrasport”...this was going to get wild! And it did. Only recently did I encounter the darkness of the lyrics [“don’t do it.”], but I was glowing for this version. Intense, for sure, and then the segue into “Set" couldn’t have been smoother. That song absolutely slayed in Philly when Joey got on the guitar. That happened again with just as good of a jam, and then “Swan Song” came out of nowhere. I wasn’t expecting anything to segue out of “Set,” but out came this pumping “Swan Song.” I looked over at my neighbors who were busy getting down. When the song ended, the one cousin slapped the other on the back and shouted, “Damn that was even better than the metal!” Now that’s how you please a crowd.

photo by Photon Obscura

You please me by playing “Antarctica” against fuckin’ “Black Tooth”! I did not mind one bit hearing my fourth version of the song about migratory polar bears. Not a ton to note about “Antarctica,” except for the throat singing we did together afterwards led by Joey. But when they said they were going to play an old one that was sponsored by Colgate, I was so pumped. Now, I’ll admit that it took me a long time to come around to Gizz’s garage albums. When I finally gave 12 Bar Bruise and Willoughby’s Beach the fair hearings they both deserved, I had two new favorites. Back at the start of KGLW.net, when we were collecting setlist data, the newly dubbed “setlist wizards” encountered oodles of shows from 2011-2012 where “Black Tooth” was the only song on the setlist because the shows were billed as the Black Tooth Tour. Made sense. But it posed an early challenge for our team to determine what to do with setlists that were based on speculation more than hard evidence. “Black Tooth” was like a chunk of jerky stuck between my teeth, a bit of an annoyance. But I’ve grown a lot since then. And after lucking out to score a “Black Tooth” live, I’m never brushing my teeth again.

Now we were at the closing run of songs. My Jersey buddies buggered off, but they’d made it through the bulk of the show. I was proud of them and I was sure the guy’s kid would be stoked for his dad. I was stoked to have more of the row for whatever was ahead. Turned out we got “Iron Lung,” “Le Risque,” and “Boogieman Sam.” The “Iron Lung” was most notable to me for the “People Vultures” motif that was woven through the jam. We never got that bird song, but their intricate jamming left me flapping.

By this point, Ambrose was clearly trying to get the crowd riled up. In such a big place, it was pretty clear the whole crowd wasn’t entirely into it. There were a decent number of people sitting and quite a few not moving much at all. Enjoy the show how you want, but when that’s the choice of more than those who are actively getting down, I think the band starts to feel it. Clearly Ambrose was. Maybe it was the intensity of the metal and then another high energy peak with Nathan, and the longer “Iron Lung” jam, but when we got to “Le Risque,” Ambrose even took over the crowd work for Cavs who apologized: “Sorry you can’t understand my bogan accent.” At this point, it was pretty clear that the band, still ripping it up night after night, might not be having quite as much fun as they did during the first leg of tour. Ambrose’s broken elbow kept him on stage instead of riding gators out in the crowd. It seemed like Cavs and maybe Joey, too, had colds; maybe more of them (pre-show footage the next show featured Cookie buying out Wal-Mart's pharmacy). Ambrose compensated for that by working the crowd like only he can, and he got people going, for the most part. We worked up the energy for a scorching “Hellooooooo Evel Knievel!” But it did feel like the band had to really earn it. Bigger crowds, bigger rooms, and a big change to our political world all seemed to factor in. Now, don’t register this as a complaint with the band. On the contrary, I’m so impressed that despite it all the band managed to power through and bring us these terrific shows that I’ll listen back to again and again.

The “Boogieman Sam” at the end of the show really is a showcase of Gizz’s unique approach to jamming, and it wrapped up the whole experience for me. Those moments when the Boogieman jam evolves into riffing on “People Vultures” and then Stu layers over it a quote of “Iron Lung,” really encapsulate all of it. We’re in full boogie mode, jamming, bopping along, and then the heaviness of the “People Vultures” motif pushes through, adding some evil to the mix. Just as we start identifying with the darkness, Stu pulls us back into the light.

photo by Photon Obscura

The post-show experience was a blur of driverless cars, white cowboy hats, dudes and dudettes, until I found myself back at the hotel restaurant with a plate of flautas and a margarita in front of me. Sitting there at an outside table, I watched Phoenix on a long and lanky Saturday night in November. We sure are living in a multi-layered world. Just like a good Gizz jam, the recognizable themes keep emerging; they are dark, and they are light, and the two are not always distinct.

--Keep an eye on the horizon for Part 3 as we climb to the heights of Albuquerque and do our best to keep from tumbling down--

(Part Three)