A band doesn’t reach the 26-album mark without its members feeling incredibly comfortable with each other. So it makes sense that Melbourne psych ensemble King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard set aside their usual album-corralling concepts this time to just capture six mates playing together in a room. More than that, leader Stu Mackenzie encouraged a pass-the-mic approach that sees every band member sing, including the vocal debut of drummer Michael Cavanagh on “Le Risque”. Fun little improvisations make the round-robin vibe feel all the more spontaneous—check out the scat section at the end of “Rats in the Sky”—as does each song launching into the next with no space in between. Musically, this material is more jaunty than heavy: Even when “Hog Calling Contest” shows off the band’s signature hairpin shifts, it’s in the service of a rustic romp. Equally rootsy is opener “Mirage City”, whose communal harmonies and twang evoke The Byrds and The Flying Burrito Brothers alike. Yet, darker themes lurk behind the band’s sunny exterior, as that first track finds solidarity in escapism via lyrics about parents fighting at home and being desperate to “leave this nightmare behind”. The closing “Daily Blues” similarly offsets its harmonica-licked roadhouse flair with the ominous refrain “Gettin’ fucked up daily”. Just because King Gizz are doubling down on camaraderie doesn’t mean they can’t air their troubles for each other. In fact, isn’t that the essence of friendship?