Stu Mackenzie of King Gizzard mid-stride with a guitar under green stage lighting

A band famous for making too many albums has made one that never ends.

Alien Metal appeared on 14 August with no announced release date, forty minutes and fifty-five seconds of techno, breakbeat hardcore, house and jungle, and it is sequenced so that the last track flows back into the first.

An Album With No End

The loop is not a gimmick bolted onto a finished record. Every single track flows into the next, and the closing track returns to the opening one, so the album can be played continuously without a seam anywhere in it.

The band has done this once before, on their eighth album Nonagon Infinity, and applying it to a dance record is a considerably better fit than applying it to a rock one. Continuous mixing is the native form of club music; a DJ set has no track breaks and a well-built one has no obvious beginning either.

What makes it unusual is that an album is a fixed object and a set is not. Building a permanent recording that behaves like a mix means committing to one running order forever, which is the opposite of how the form normally works.

The material came from a single session. The album’s primary themes emerged from a one-hour improvisation with the whole band in the key of F sharp — one key, one hour, and everything downstream derived from it.

That explains how a looping record holds together harmonically. A set of tracks written in one key from one improvisation will join at the edges without effort, because the joins were never separate to begin with.

Our piece on why club music repeats so much covers the structural logic this album takes to its conclusion.

They Rebuilt the Synthesizers

The sound was engineered rather than selected. The band took a DIY approach by modifying the Eurorack synthesizers themselves, building the specific sound profile they were after rather than working with what the modules already did.

Eurorack is a modular format, so a rig is assembled from individual components and patched by hand. Modifying the modules themselves goes a step further — it is closer to instrument-building than to programming.

Stu Mackenzie has described the effect in strong terms, saying that working with synthesizers for this record “completely rewired my brain”. He has also described deciding to forget everything he knew about music and relearn it from scratch.

For a musician whose entire reputation rests on guitar-band productivity, that is a substantial thing to say. It also matches how the record sounds: not a rock band using electronics, but a group who went and learned a different discipline.

Entire Albums, Deleted

The cost of that was enormous. Mackenzie has said the band scrapped multiple hours of demos over the years it took — more than for any previous album.

His description is memorable: “Entire albums, entire universes that were formulated, created, recorded, deleted and started again.”

Coming from this band, that carries specific weight. King Gizzard have released twenty-eight studio albums; they are not a group with a reputation for discarding work. Scrapping more material than usual, for them, means scrapping a lot.

Alien Metal arrived fourteen months after Phantom Island in 2025, which is a longer gap than usual for them, and the band has said the delay was deliberate — they wanted to take their time.

A band that has averaged more than one album a year for a decade choosing to slow down is itself a statement about what this record was meant to be.

Three Years of Getting There

The path is traceable. In 2023 the band released The Silver Cord, an electronic album, and afterwards began putting more electronic material into their live shows through a modular synth rig they named “Nathan”.

They spent a week in mid-2025 recording for Alien Metal, immediately before a rave tour on which they played only electronic material. That is an unusual bit of sequencing: make the record first, then go and perform in the idiom for a full tour.

Crucially, they wrote the album to sound distinct rather than to replicate the live experience. A band that has just spent a tour learning what works in a room could easily reverse-engineer that into a record; choosing not to is a decision to keep the album a separate object.

Mackenzie kept going on his own. In December 2025 he released a solo album, Mango Sticky Rice, through the band’s Bootlegger programme — an hour and a half of ambient generative music. In June 2026 he played a handful of solo shows with his synth rig at a cafe in Melbourne.

Ninety minutes of generative ambient and a cafe residency are not commercial moves. They are what someone does while learning an instrument in public, which is more or less what the last three years appear to have been.

Announced Loudly, Released Quietly

The rollout was its own oddity. The album was announced on 8 July alongside the lead single “Level 5”, whose video stars the Australian actor Vince Colosimo, then “Alien Metal” followed on 28 July and “Kill for the Steel” on 11 August.

Three singles across five weeks is a conventional, quite heavy campaign. Then the album itself was surprise-released on 14 August with no release date ever having been announced.

That combination is genuinely unusual. Surprise releases normally involve silence beforehand; here the band ran a full single campaign and simply withheld the one piece of information everyone expected.

It suits the record. An album with no beginning and no end being released with no date is at least internally consistent, and it makes the appearance of the thing feel like a switch being flipped rather than a countdown reaching zero.

The label is the band’s own, p(doom) Records, which is what makes any of it possible. There is no distributor to inform, no retail lead time to protect and nobody who needs to know the date in advance.

Naming an actor in a lead-single video is the other unusual choice. Vince Colosimo is a well-known Australian screen presence rather than a music-video regular, and casting him is the kind of decision that only makes sense if the video is meant to be watched as a short film rather than as a promotional asset.

The preceding release, Demos Vol. 7 + Vol. 8, is worth noting for contrast. A band that publishes its own demo collections is not one that hides its working process, which makes the deleted material on this album a genuine departure rather than routine studio attrition.

Critics Could Not Agree

Reception split hard. The Arts Desk gave it four stars out of five; Far Out Magazine gave it two, under a review headlined “A bridge too far”.

A four-and-a-two is a more informative outcome than a consensus three. It means the record does something specific enough that a listener either accepts the premise or does not, which is not usually true of a twenty-eighth album.

The split is also predictable from the material. An audience that has followed this band through psychedelia, thrash, microtonal experiments and jazz is not uniformly going to want an hour of jungle breaks, however well made.

Forty-one minutes is the other thing worth noting. For a band with a taste for sprawl, a record this tight suggests the editing was as aggressive as the scrapped demos imply.

Twenty-eight albums in, having deleted entire finished ones to get here, King Gizzard have made a record designed never to stop playing. Whether that is admirable or exhausting appears to depend entirely on who you ask.

Alien Metal is out now on p(doom) Records.

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