The twenty-seventh (yes, twenty-seventh) King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard album is a vivid technicolour swim through the lushest corners of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, finding the band digging deep into the dayglo extravagance of psychedelic pop with funk grooves and full brass sections. There’s no microtonal guitars this time, or polyrhythmic madness, with most tracks landing firmly in 4/4 structure, but the arrangements are enormous swarming with strings, horns, flutes and clarinets like a psychedelic orchestra not dissimilar to The Polyphonic Spree.

The single Deadstick is a standout example, with the tightly grooving funk-pop energy of Elton John during his most feather-boa, piano-stomping moments. It’s pure sunshine with impeccably clean playing, a punchy rhythm, and flourishes of brass that wouldn’t sound out of place in ‘70s disco. Phantom Island is languid, summery, and proudly lush with clever attention to detail in conjuring vintage tones that replicate The Beatles’ late-stage palette. Gizzard continue to explore new sonic territory with such ease and confidence, another wild experiment folding into the endless sprawl of their catalogue like it’s nothing. If any other band told you they were going to make a Sgt. Pepper’s psychedelic disco-funk yacht rock glam album, you’d clear your schedule for the incoming car crash, but King Gizzard set the bar at “absurd” and jump clean over it like it’s just another Tuesday. The final track Grow Wings and Fly is as lovely and luminous as the title suggests, soaring full of bright-eyed optimism and weightless joy with genuinely beautiful orchestration, paired with a driving rhythm that’s both propulsive and light on its feet with little clarinet runs skipping through the background like dragonflies on a lake. We never know where they’ll go next, but one of the most consistently fascinating bands there is has done it again - for the twenty-seventh time.