On Footy Footy, 12 Bar Bruise’s red-hot wormburner of a closing track, we hear a stream of consciousness roll of long forgotten ‘90s AFL stars – Ang Christou, Che Cockatoo Collins, Sticks Kernahan, to name a few. After that list, plus a dose of longing for wing-side seats at Waverly Park and dollar-fifty Footy Records, we hear the final word, “I hate what the game has become.” These fuckers are what, barely in their adulthood? And they’re this fucking nostalgic? Shit, what hope is there for us?
King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard put out an EP late last year in Willoughby’s Beach, a record which possessed the scope which rendered the distinction between extended player and longplayer insignificant. 12 Bar Bruise builds upon this solid rock‘n’roll foundation and reaches beyond with a brazen focus you wouldn’t think a seven-deep collective of coastal miscreants would be capable of pulling off.
There’s a struggle with masculinity on 12 Bar Bruise – there’s footy, there’s violence, there are maternal pleas, there’s even a western in Sam Cherry’s Last Shot. The track features a baritone spoken word from Dingoes frontman Broderick Smith (dad of harmonica wielder Ambrose), an example of cowboys and Indians in song form.
Garage Liddiard has little to do with its title. But hey, what a title! Uh Oh, I Called Mum does what it says on the tin, with the cries of “mum” clocking up into the hundreds over a blistering 12-bar boogie. Ridiculously good fun.
The title track plods along as a welcome respite from the breakneck boogie, both the tempo and rudimentary sonics (the track was recorded with four smartphones and nothing else) combining to broaden the record’s dynamic into something more astute.
There are moments where King Gizz dive for something deeper, on Nein there a rues of “My body’s full of poison shit”, before a languid chorus which counts to nine and does little else. The soaring Sea Of Trees is a surprisingly profound recount of rising above depression, building into a dreamy cloud of power chords. Bloody Ripper is half hate ballad, half love song. “All I wanna do, is sink my teeth in you,” is delivered with a wink and a smile.
Delightfully idiotic and chock full of dickhead brilliance, 12 Bar Bruise melts the mind in the best way possible.
