The Lazy Eyes

SongBook, the debut album by Sydney four-piece The Lazy Eyes, is a world unto itself, and like
every good fantasy world, it abides by its own logic. Step inside: the colours are a little brighter;
things move a little slower, but they’re liable to get inordinately faster in the blink of an eye. The
landscape is all hard brick and plasterdust — stoner lurch and Sabbath-y chug — until a hook
bursts forth, unexpected, like a flower from concrete. Suddenly you’re in a garden in full
blossom, and you didn’t even notice; you walked a mile without taking a single step. SongBook
is strange like that — all journey and all destination, a decidedly modern marvel of psych-rock
that’s unpretentious in construction but precious where it counts. In SongBook’s earliest
moments, The Lazy Eyes welcome you to their technicolour, sun-baked universe with open
arms: “Can I show you all the places you can go, on this island that I know? All the caves and all
the snow, on the mountains there are goats.”