‘Deadbeat’ Album Review: A Trippy, Tentative Return

Few artists have carved out a sound as unmistakably their own as Tame Impala.

Conceived by singer, songwriter, and producer Kevin Parker, Tame Impala’s distinct psychedelic rock sound — an intoxicating blend of washed-out vocals, distorted guitars and lush synthesisers, underpinned by dynamic, rock-inspired drum grooves — has become one of the most influential and imitated sonic signatures of an oversaturated streaming era, with even Pink Floyd acknowledging its impact on their latest work. Whereas most pop songs on the charts rely on teams of cowriters and producers, Parker has maintained complete control over nearly every aspect of the process, from writing and arrangement to recording and production.

Having transitioned from his psychedelic rock roots to an increasingly pop-centric sound in third and fourth studio albums — “Currents” and “The Slow Rush” — Parker returns with, even for his standards, a strangely disorienting album: “Deadbeat.”

Heavily inspired by both Australia’s “bush doof” culture — an entrancing mix of psychedelic electronic beats and outback surrealism — and the Western Australian rave scene at large, “Deadbeat” is comprised of 12 tracks which can be loosely categorised as “indie EDM.”

Yet despite the album’s influences, “Deadbeat” firmly exists in its own space, lacking the frenetic energy that typically underpins rave and EDM music.

Shifting away from the simplistic yet groovy drums and crunchy guitars that defined his earlier work, Parker’s off-kilter production on this record largely consists of fragmented percussion, pounding four-on-the-floor beats, and warm, lush analog synthesizers.

From the outset, “Deadbeat,” as the title suggests, is an album defined by insecurity.

The opening track, “My Old Ways,” finds Parker lamenting that he is trapped in a cycle of “barely coping,” perpetually “back into his old ways again.”

This continual self-recrimination, coupled with an apparent lack of confidence, is one of the many lyrical elements that stand in stark contrast to the uplifting, anthemic, or overly sombre pop records which fill today’s charts.

Sung over a lilting piano backing, thumping house-inspired beat and interrupted by a loosely-performed synth solo, “My Old Ways” immediately establishes the album’s overarching sense of uneasy intimacy.

This tentative, reflective energy continues in the second track, “No Reply,” in which Parker claims that he just “want[s] to seem like a normal guy.” He then jokes that his partner is a “cinephile,” while he merely “watches Family Guy / On a Friday night, off a rogue website.” The track balances irony with melancholy, keeping the listener simultaneously off-balance yet engaged.

The next two tracks, “Dracula” and “Loser” are the wildcards of the record. “Dracula,” on one hand, is markedly playful and cinematic. Its “Thriller”-inspired details and funky synth bass line make for one of the most memorable moments of the album — albeit one that doesn’t seem to fit its overall vision and sound.

In contrast, “Loser,” while lyrically aligned with the rest of the tracks, pays homage to the rock-centric production of his earlier work with a repeated, hypnotic guitar riff and a loose yet steady drum groove.

Although “Oblivion” and “Not My World” return to the record’s eccentric sound, these tracks largely blur together on repeated listens, lacking any single defining feature to anchor them in the listener’s memory.

However, one of the album’s highlights is “Ethereal Connection,” an eight-minute trance-like track with no immediately discernible structure. Seamlessly shifting between jittery, crystalline synth lines and muffled vocal interjections, the track appears to be more of a stream of musical consciousness than a song. On “Afterthought” Parker continues to express his quiet self-doubt: “When we’re alone, it’s like I’m keeping you waiting.”

The album closes with its lead single, “End of Summer,” which carefully melds wistfulness with vulnerability: “I know I can seem uncaring in moments like this.” Ending on a bittersweet note, Parker once again juxtaposes introspective writing with energetic, thumping grooves, engendering an uneasy sense of disjointed tension.

While this album is largely cohesive in its themes and production, it is still missing the same level of pure, entrancing energy that epitomized his earlier work. Although it feels unfair to compare Parker’s projects — each seems to live in its own distinct world — it is difficult to overlook the lack of any enduring moments from this album. It is a project that, although surprising and intriguing on first listen, isn’t one that begs to be replayed like “Currents” or “Lonerism.”

Minimalism is central to the album’s production, yet many beats — especially on “End of Summer” and “Not My World” — feel undeveloped, often ending just as they become sonically interesting. These shortcomings in the record’s production, however, are not rectified by its writing; some of these songs only contain a few lines of vague lyrics about “something / That I never could describe.”

“Deadbeat” feels like more of a snapshot of Parker’s troubled psyche than a holistic representation of Tame Impala as an artist. While sonically unique and ambitious, the palpable unease embedded in the record’s writing and production ultimately alienates the listener, who can’t help but feel slightly adrift within its intriguing yet disjointed soundscape.