Album review: Tame Impala, The Slow Rush

If you thought Tame Impala would return to the psych days of Lonerism and Innerspeaker, you’re only part-right. The Slow Rush is not here to save guitar rock, though the album’s seven minute closer “One More Hour” may suggest otherwise. Still, despite a few moments to hook fans of one name, progressive rock acts like Yes and Rush (RIP Neil Peart), Tame Impala’s fourth album mostly delves deeper into the pop and electronic sounds that made up 2015’s Currents. Except this time around, there’s a stern yet tasteful obsession with all things 70s, from disco and funk, and praise be to Steely Dan and Fleetwood Mac.

Those worried that Parker’s string of celebrity collabs (SZA, Travis Scott) would push him to trap beats and Swedish producers can rest easy. If the Australian multi-instrumentalist learned anything from his work with hip-hop star Travis Scott it was that perfectionism kills creativity, and the occasional mid-song beat switch never hurt anyone (see “Posthumous-Forgiveness,” which has me feeling my daddy issues, big time). You’d think throwing out the fine-toothed comb would make Tame Impala more impulsive and reductive. But on the contrary, it seems that for Parker, letting-go means writing some of the most intricate and interestingly-structured pop songs of his entire career. 

Worshipping sounds of the past can easily be mistaken for parody, or schtick. Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories avoided this through such careful mimicry that it actually sounded like a long lost record from the 70s. The Slow Rush, however, is great because of how it reimagines disco and funk. Not that there is any irony to be found here. Whether it’s the disco strut of “Borderline”, or the ambient-house of “Glimmer”, Parker does so not with a wink, but with utter sincerity. But by somehow mixing disparate 70s genres, like progressive rock and R&B, and by avoiding the eras tropes for personal and existential woes, The Slow Rush never really sounds retro.

Rhythmic keys and 4/4 snares drive the roller-rink ready “Breathe Deeper” towards a buzzing, techno synth conclusion; but instead of singing about dancing or going out, Parker uses the groove to assure a significant other of his ability to be reliable: “If you need someone to carry on, Believe me I can, believe me I can.” “On Track” is that moment at a crazy party when you find a sweet second to yourself — percussion and church-like organs drop in and out, accentuating the song’s quiet lure, so when those drums and playful keys kick back in, you can’t help but agree with Parker when he croons, “The rest gets easy.”

For those that drink the Tame Impala Kool-Aide — while admittedly late to the party, I’m beginning to guzzle — five years is a very long time to wait between albums. However, not only does Parker seem completely unfazed by the pressure; he’s actually dancing to it. I wasn’t really waiting, but if I had been, it would have been worth the wait.