The Tibetans believe that rebirth doesn’t happen immediately; allegedly, several years can pass between a person’s death and rebirth. Far out, man. Hopefully, John Lennon had a fun six years in whatever bardo he inhabited between his assassination in 1980 and subsequent reappearance in 1986 in Sydney, Australia as Kevin Parker.
That’s probably a joke, but the Ouija board says it’s not, and the Magic 8 Ball says “Without a doubt,” and John 3:3 says, “Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.”
See? It’s not like you needed metaphysical confirmation. The vocal resemblance is uncanny, and Parker’s aesthetic leans strongly toward post-rock psychedelia. If you were to guess what John Lennon would be recording in 2015, how much worse could he do than Tame Impala?
Don’t be mistaken. Tame Impala is only technically a band in the sense that there are multiple people onstage for live shows. Otherwise, everything is dictated by Parker’s taste, but “Kevin Parker’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” would’ve been a one-way ticket to a copyright infringement suit.
One might say that the theme of Jimi Hendrix’s psychedelia is confusion, and the theme of Connan Mockasin‘s psychedelia is definitely sex. Where “Currents” departs from themes of isolation and introspection in “Innerspeaker” and “Lonerism” isn’t just a more extroverted, optimistic lyrical approach; the guitar no longer takes center stage. It’s hardly even on stage. While drums are still uber-compressed and flangers still sound like they’re overheating, synthesizers take on such a prominent role that the vibe goes from being previously that of a disembodied-reembodied Beatle to that of a DJ-savvy ‘90s Aussie kid—like an analog-sounding, less navel-gazey M83.
“Currents” has been building for months, with Pitchfork shadowing Parker each step of the way, creating what was no doubt a nationwide hipster frenzy—beards all-a-quiver and Doc Martens and Converse All-Stars shuffling nervously—only to be sated by PBRs, bong hits, and music that sounds a little like music their dads—whom they hate—liked. Indeed, Pitchfork gave the album a whopping 9.3 score, with most other reviews similarly laudatory. The praise is well-deserved to an extent but quite subjective: Parker isn’t doing anything new, although he’s doing the same old thing he did before a little differently.
For one thing, he no longer sounds exactly like John Lennon but now rather kinda like John Lennon. His sound is edging more towards Daft Punk but still tethered in a new wave sensibility. And while some tracks are worth their weight in Beatles’ fingernail clippings, others are worth deleting immediately. The faux-lo-fi approach has led to the range of Tame Impala being hailed as “genius” to being harshly criticized as “the Instagram of rock bands.” But frankly, this approach is far from new, and it’s hardly fair to give either excessive praise or heavy condemnation to Tame Impala specifically when others like Unknown Mortal Orchestra do nearly the exact same thing.
At any rate, “Currents” is decidedly agreeable. There are hooks a’plenty, and there’s plenty to groove to. It’s harmonically interesting enough for pop music without going off the deep end. The lyrics are less than profound, but the heavier-than-usual reliance upon synthesizers suits Parker’s voice as well as his aural styling, production-wise. With the fluff extracted and the best distilled and separated from the worst, it would’ve been a five-star EP.
Beginning the album with “Let It Happen” was a good idea. (McCartney aside, a Lennon doppelganger would title a song that closely to “Let It Be.”) It’s nearly eight minutes of quasi-Motown swagger. The verses modulate nicely away from the choruses: Parker eases the highs and mids out of the drums before changing key, helping to offset the verses texturally. About halfway through, song form is basically abandoned. A lesser writer would have ended the tune at the four-minute mark. Rather, Parker isolates a one-beat loop, writes a short string instrumental over it, brings a two-and-four beat over it, dumps a ton of flanger onto the mix, and then dives back into an extended chorus that becomes a theme and variations. Once there, he introduces new melodies, weaves countermelodies against each other, and—in lieu of a bridge—grafts another stanza onto it that functions as a sort of coda. This homage to the inevitable is like an adult version of the pestilent and ubiquitous cheeseball “Let It Go” from that cancerous Disney movie that shall not be named—exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei.
While “Let It Happen” is a departure from other Tame Impala albums, “Nangs” delves deeply into trance and DJ overtones. While there are words, it’s only technically a “song”; at less than two minutes, it’s almost a mere musical afterthought with no significant form, like a fleeting sensory impression. Like doing nangs, one would suppose. As the drums pick up a bit, right as it begins to fade, one wonders if this is really a snippet of some longer construction hidden away somewhere on Parker’s laptop. Then again, a song named after Australian slang for a recreational drug that doesn’t last very long should be neither particularly profound nor cerebral.
“The Moment” kicks in feeling a little like “Elephant,” which was probably Tame Impala’s biggest success (Parker did say that it alone paid for half of his house). Attention to detail makes this track hum: the intricacy of drum track, with cymbal swirls arranged to effect and a pocket-perfect shuffle; the orchestrated panning; and the attention to orchestration and form. Like the opening track, the second half of the song is developmental, with an extended chorus that doubles as a playground for disorienting effects.
The tender “Yes, I’m Changing” is as vulnerable as anything Parker has done, and between the Doogie Howserish synth patches and pads and the gratuitous use of reverb, it almost comes across as one of Phil Collins’ only moderately cheesy ballads. The only thing keeping it from being sucked into The Phil Collins Vortex (a sad, scary place) is the snappy, clappy drum track, the liberal use of falsetto, and heavy-handed lyrics like “They say people never change but that’s bullshit / They do.” There’s a little confusion near the end when a harpsichord patch plays a harmonically incongruent figure over a diminished chord, but harmonic congruence is the last thing on a sentimental hipster’s mind.
As this is probably Parker’s breakup album (from Melody Prochet of Melody’s Echo Chamber), “Eventually” is—yeah, believe it or not—probably the album’s emotional keystone. Parker told Stereogum in an interview that the song is about “knowing you’re about to damage someone irreparably, and the only consolation you get is this distant hope that they’ll be alright eventually.” Of course if someone were irreparably damaged, he or she wouldn’t eventually be all right. But this is pop music, not the Harvard Debate Council.
Like “Nangs,” “Gossip” is approximately one minute of Parker self-indulgently dicking around with a synthesizer and a guitar. But it makes an excellent aperitif to “The Less I Know The Better,” which is one of the gems on this album that makes the occasional stumble or chaff forgivable. Parker is probably a better bassist than a guitarist, and this drum ‘n’ bass disco-lite masterpiece has been shown in clinical studies to both release endorphins as well as stimulate ovulation. Hipsters everywhere will either dance awkwardly or awkwardly try not to dance. The great thing about this song is that it’s just so genuinely catchy. Parker’s former melodic and formal gymnastics don’t apply here; they’re unnecessary. The fact that this track was not released as a single is mind-boggling.
Before “Past Life” can even play, just fast forward to the next track. What’s that, you say? You want to listen to some boring android mumble on in a Frankenstein monotone over random background music from the soundtrack to “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”? Well then, hit “loop” and smash the screen of your iPod! Unfortunately, this track is like one of Flaming Lips’ abortions from a decade ago that never made it onto an album—and rightly so.
“Disciples,” which actually somehow is a single (at a minute and 49 seconds), sounds like a brief goodbye note to a friend that Parker lost to the clutches of some cultish religion: “Now it’s like the world owes you / Walking around like everybody should know you.”
Another single, “Cause I’m a Man,” was released months before the album, stirring otherwise placid hipsters from their springtime hibernation. It, too, borrows heavily from Flaming Lips’ tendency toward low, jarring synths, but the video is more along the lines of casual sexist surrealism … if that’s a thing (see for yourself). There’s a kind of doofus-level kitzch to the lyric, “Cause I’m a man, woman,” that almost satirizes itself, but it you can get over the relatively pedestrian lyrics, it’s not a bad song.
“Reality in Motion”, like “The Less I Know The Better,” could’ve—should’ve—been a single. It would work well with just two guitars and two vocal mics; sure, it’s been soaked in all the typical effects and compression but unlike some other tracks, doesn’t rely upon them. One could conceive Fleetwood Mac doing an acoustic version, but the production is admittedly the cherry on top, from sparsely sprinkled 8-bit bloops to the omnipresent nigh-Ringo drumming.
The penultimate track, “Love Paranoia,” is totally forgettable but not terrible, although by now the universal application of vocal delay is a little wearisome. Mundane lyrics and aimless guitar noodling lead this song nowhere fast. However, “New Person, Same Old Mistakes” takes that fat, bouncy Flaming Lips sound and stamps it with the general theme of personal change: “I know that you think it’s fake / Maybe fake’s what I like.” That sentiment probably illustrates this album’s detractors better than Parker would like it to. The song begins to sag a bit, but near the halfway mark Parker opts for a tasteful modulation that picks it up and dusts it off.
All that silliness about being a reincarnated John Lennon was just for fun. Their voices sound similar, but if Parker is John Lennon reborn, Lennon is taking a vacation in this life, just messing around with music for fun. Parker doesn’t show a lot of focus, dedication, or artistic vision so much as he just kinda does this thing. And hey, Hershey’s does that, and McDonald’s does that, and Coca-Cola does that: devise a product, and crank it out. And it works generally. If this comparison has any merit, however, “Currents” is Tame Impala’s Crystal Pepsi.
