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Think of it like BMW rolling a shape-shifting car made entirely out of fabric onto the showroom floor-you’ll see pieces of it on a range of cars in the coming months, but you won’t see one of these rolling down the street. Parker also wants to be a chart whisperer like Max Martin, so Rush doubles as an audition for the dominant sound of the next half-decade of pop music. The drums pull “On Track” along at the exact right pace, like a chain-lift before the dive drop into “Lost in Yesterday.” Not a single gasp of air is out of place: What Parker did to the album version of “Borderline” was basically film editing deepening the bass just so, punching up the snares just right, exposing just enough lens flare. A notorious perfectionist, Parker committed himself to the concept of time in both the writing and crafting of this album: thematically, he spends the lion’s share of Rush at its mercy technically, I’ve scarcely heard such a command of it. Much of what people have to say about The Slow Rush, out last Friday, centers on how musically accomplished it is, and all the attentive, pedantic work it took to build. But he got kind of close by being even more academic in his approach. How could he sublimate heartbreak, directionlessness, and primal fear of the unknown into another album that captures droves of new Tame Impala fans? Artists now often have to outpace a single big song they’ve become synonymous with-but whenever Kevin Parker emerged from whichever recording hole he was in, he’d have to top Currents. After dispensing with the idea that the band was much more than Kevin Parker alone in a room with his thoughts and instruments, it was the whole of Currents-not “The Less I Know the Better” or “Reality in Motion” by themselves-that raised Parker’s profile to Coachella-headlining status and made his music a favorite among the Playa set. I remember the promo trailer, which showed Parker wandering around his apartment, twiddling knobs, touching keys, sinking into a bathtub totally exhausted after his big, creative birth. Real heads have deep attachments to particular songs ( “Love/Paranoia” is a more considered-slash-devastating version of “Sundown Syndrome,” with six years’ added perspective, bigger drums, and an even higher-soaring chorus I think about it twice a week) but in general, people tend to talk about this album as a monolith. could engineer an intense rush of ecstasy all their own.Ģ015’s Currents was one of those long-lingering unspoken moments. Pepper, but much of Tame Impala’s breakout music owed big debts to late-’60s psych rock “Feels” was proof that Kevin Parker and Co.
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Elsewhere in that 2012 interview Parker decries revivalism as boring and redundant and claims to have been pretty disappointed upon first hearing Sgt.
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The song, from 2012’s Lonerism, with its ever-evolving bass line, Hammond organ pops, striking drum fills, and live-die-repeat structure, argued for Tame Impala as one of the cleverest rock bands working. This kind of myth-focused, auteur musician quote initially scans like hooey-but then you consider “Feels Like We Only Go Backwards” as the wild animal that Parker wants you to have this unspoken moment with. Then the next minute it’s gone returning to where it came from.” “ The name ‘Tame Impala’ is just a reference to the African animal really, from a perspective of coming into contact with a live one, one that you’d come across in nature and having this real brief, unspoken moment but with some level of communication between yourself and this wild animal. But the name means something, according to this 2012 interview with Kevin Parker: Or maybe it was just me that spent the past decade-plus wrapped in the blissful glow of the pop-minded Aussie rocker’s sound, wholly unconcerned with what the band name means, because how could that information augment the experience? The feeling would be the same if they were the Fuzzy Navels. You associate the words “Tame Impala” with what the band makes-hyperprocessed psychedelia, neatly packaged at the exact halfway point between chopping the mountain with the edge of your hand and sliding down it nose-first-so you never really think about what the name means. Every week, Micah Peters surveys the world of music-from new releases to bubbling trends to anniversaries both big and obscure-and gives a few recommendations.