It’s been five years since Kevin Parker blessed us with the delight that is Currents. Since then a thick layer of permafrost has coated our fickle world, but Tame Impala are back, melting the ice from beneath our feet with the soul warming album that is The Slow Rush.
Tame Impala have become rock heroes of the modern era, known for their crunchy guitar tones that buzz the brainwaves of any indie kid within a 100 mile radius, resulting in a shortage of beds at bedlam. But too long staring out the window between the bars has taken Parker on a trip down the yellow brick road of pop infused psychedelia and it’ll definitely add colour to your morbid morning march.
The Slow Rush opens with a level of familiarity that we all know too well. A lovers skin gently passes over your soul as Kevin yearns, “Not caring if we do the same thing every week, One More Year”, you’ll never want this feeling to end and beg for more as the repetitive disco beat pulls you into his holographic mirror that is the heavily delayed vocals that underly.
This level of sensuality continues as we enter Instant Destiny, taking us on a tour of the heart, “Just drink this magic potion of love and devotion”, the potion radiates throughout your body as Parker seemingly drips that summer feel intravenously into your every capillary. It’s apparent from the onset that The Slow Rush is a serenade that makes you feel intrusive just for listening to. It supplies the listener with an outsiders view of a wondrous relationship that we can’t quite touch but we can certainly feel as you step into their voyeuristic paradise in which we all observe; in adoration of what we can’t fathom ourselves.
Although a lot of Tame Impala fans are not fans at all, they simply love one or two tracks and the trouble is really that post-Lonerism many of their songs sound the exact fucking same at times, gently lulling us into a lazy daydream that has a wide and vast appeal. Parker has really turned a page with this album though with each track having its own unique and vast soundscape, taking us on a trip through the seasons instead of one continuous summer meadow that grows dull and boring as its colour fades away.
As Parker looks forward into the unknown for the first half of the album it seems he glances back, looking retrospectively at what used to be in tracks like Lost In Yesterday, “if they call you, embrace them. If they hold you, erase them” he sings in that alien-esque voice he’s so famous for, as if calling you into an involuntary pendulous swing; you’re hypnotised. You’ll be stuck in this swing from the onset of the first track right until the final note. Although a couple of tracks on the album like Is It True lack a special characteristic and sit passively sandwiched between certified chart toppers, it feels like they’re there to give your brain a little break and switch off, I mean, one person can only have so much fun right? The bottom layer of bread stopping this shit sandwich from leaking out comes in the form of It Might Be Time. With deep grinding kicks that juxtapose Parker’s silky statements you’re sure to find yourself stomping around the back room late at night and kicking the shins of the one you love on a regular basis as though your calves are supplying the beat this track feeds off. The album closes with perfect symmetry and instead of One More Year it’s One More Hour, which is what you’ll be dreaming of as you notice you’ve come to the end of this tale.
The Slow Rush does exactly what it says on the tin and is a gentle swelling of intensity right through to the end. A drift away from their indie rock inception they’ve crafted over the years, this immaculately organised pop album tips its hat to the rave scene of the 90’s, and not in the jaw swinging arm pumping motions of a heart attack pending, but in a tamer lethargic manner that can be enjoyed by the diehard fan and the diabolically overdressed Saturday night suiter alike, it really is one for the many that leave the few very little to complain about.