If you’ve ever fallen down the rabbit hole of Australian psych-rock, you’ve probably hit a wall named Murder of the Universe. It’s loud. It’s narrated by a robot. It ends with the entire cosmos being dissolved into digital vomit. Honestly, on paper, it sounds like a disaster. But for fans of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard, this 2017 record isn't just an album; it’s the cornerstone of a massive, interconnected multiverse they call the "Gizzverse."
Most people get King Gizzard wrong. They think the band is just a prolific jam group that releases five albums a year because they can’t stop moving. While the output is insane, there’s a method to the madness. Murder of the Universe is the moment the band stopped playing around with themes and started building a mythology. It’s gritty. It’s gross. It’s arguably the most ambitious thing to come out of the garage rock scene in the last decade.
The Three-Headed Beast of the Gizzverse
The album isn't a single story. It’s a triptych. You’ve got three distinct chapters, each more chaotic than the last.
The first part, The Tale of the Altered Beast, is a 20-minute odyssey about a human who encounters a cryptid in the woods and slowly loses their humanity. It’s repetitive in a way that feels like a fever dream. You hear the same jagged riffs over and over, mirroring the protagonist's descent into madness. Stu Mackenzie, the band's frontman, uses the "Altered Beast" as a metaphor for the loss of self. It’s brutal.
Then things shift. The Lord of Lightning vs. Balrog feels like a heavy metal comic book. This is where the lore gets deep. Fans have spent years on Reddit trying to connect the Lord of Lightning to characters in other albums like Nonagon Infinity or I’m In Your Mind Fuzz. It’s a sonic battle that sounds exactly like what the title suggests—pure elemental chaos.
Why the Narration Actually Works
A lot of critics hated the narration when the album dropped. They called it distracting. They said it took away from the music. They were wrong.
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Leah Senior provides the voice for the first two chapters, while "Han-Tyumi" (an anagram for Humanity) takes over for the finale. The narration gives the album a cinematic quality that standard lyrics just couldn't achieve. It’s like a radio play from a dimension where everything is made of fuzz pedals and feedback. Without the spoken word sections, Murder of the Universe would just be a collection of high-speed riffs. With them, it becomes a folk tale from the end of time.
Han-Tyumi is the star here. He’s a "Cyborg" who wants two things he can't have because he's a machine: to die and to vomit. It sounds ridiculous, right? But the way the band handles it is surprisingly philosophical. It’s a meditation on what it means to be alive and the inherent desire for a conclusion. In a world that is increasingly digital and automated, Han-Tyumi is a weirdly relatable figure. He’s looking for the most human experiences possible, even if those experiences are disgusting.
Breaking Down the Han-Tyumi Finale
The final act is what gives the album its name. Han-Tyumi builds a machine to help him achieve his goal of "vomiting," but it goes horribly wrong. The machine gains consciousness, begins to consume everything, and eventually, the Soy-Protein Munt Machine merges with the cyborg to become a god-like entity of pure filth.
"I am a black hole shitting into the void," the narrator says. It’s not poetic in the traditional sense. It’s visceral.
Musically, the last few tracks—Digital Black, Vomit Coffin, and the title track—are some of the heaviest moments in the Gizzard discography. The drums by Michael Cavanagh are relentless. The triple-guitar attack of Mackenzie, Cook Craig, and Joey Walker creates a wall of sound that feels like it’s actually collapsing on the listener.
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The Connection to Nonagon Infinity
You can't talk about Murder of the Universe without mentioning Nonagon Infinity. That 2016 album is famous because it loops infinitely. The end of the last song leads perfectly into the start of the first.
Murder of the Universe acts as a sort of "end state" for the world established in Nonagon. If Nonagon is the opening of the door, Murder is what happens when the door stays open too long and the monsters get out. There are musical motifs—"Easter eggs," if you want to be basic about it—hidden throughout the record that reference earlier songs. The "People-Vultures" riff makes a cameo. The "Robot Stop" melody haunts the background of the cyborg's monologue. It’s a rewarding experience for long-term listeners. It makes the Gizzverse feel like a lived-in place.
Is it Too Weird for New Listeners?
Probably. If you’re looking for catchy psych-pop like Paper Mâché Dream Balloon, this isn't it. This album is a test of endurance. It’s meant to be played loud and in one sitting.
However, that’s exactly why it has such a cult following. In an era of Spotify playlists where every song is designed to be background noise, King Gizzard made something that demands your full attention. You can’t put on The Tale of the Altered Beast while you’re doing dishes and expect to have a normal time. It’s going to stress you out. It’s going to make you feel "altered."
That’s the mark of great art. It moves the needle. It forces a reaction. Even if that reaction is, "What the hell did I just listen to?"
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Technical Excellence and Production
The album was recorded at the band's own Flightless HQ in East Brunswick, Melbourne. The production is muddy, but intentionally so. It feels like it was unearthed from a time capsule.
One thing people overlook is the sheer technical skill involved in the polyrhythms. King Gizzard is known for playing in odd time signatures—7/8, 5/4, 9/8—and Murder of the Universe is a masterclass in making those signatures feel natural. They aren't showing off; they’re using the "wrongness" of the timing to make the listener feel the instability of the story.
- Chapter 1: Focuses on shifting time signatures to represent the transformation.
- Chapter 2: Uses frantic, galloping rhythms to simulate a battle.
- Chapter 3: Becomes increasingly mechanical and rigid, then eventually dissolves into pure noise.
The Legacy of the Cyborg
Since 2017, the character of Han-Tyumi has appeared in several other Gizzard projects, including music videos and even their "Official Bootlegger" series. He’s become the unofficial mascot of the band's darker side.
The album also paved the way for their later explorations into thrash metal with Infest the Rats' Nest and PetroDragonic Apocalypse. You can hear the seeds of those albums in the aggressive sections of Murder. It was the band proving to themselves—and their fans—that they could go dark and stay there.
Actionable Insights for the Aspiring Gizzhead
If you’re ready to tackle this beast, don't just hit shuffle. Here is how you actually experience Murder of the Universe properly:
- Read the Lyrics while Listening: The narration is great, but the lyrics are dense with wordplay and lore that you’ll miss if you’re just passive.
- Listen on Headphones: The panning and layering of the three guitars are specifically designed for a stereo field. You lose 40% of the experience on a phone speaker.
- Connect the Dots: After finishing, go back and listen to Nonagon Infinity and I'm In Your Mind Fuzz. Watch how the riffs migrate from one album to the next.
- Embrace the Weirdness: Don't try to make it make sense in a traditional "pop song" way. It's a rock opera. Treat it like a movie.
The Murder of the Universe is inevitable, at least in the world King Gizzard built. It’s a reminder that everything—nature, humanity, and even the stars—eventually runs its course. It just so happens that this particular ending is set to some of the best psych-rock ever recorded.