{"id":320617,"date":"2025-10-21T07:34:18","date_gmt":"2025-10-21T07:34:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/320617\/"},"modified":"2025-10-21T07:34:18","modified_gmt":"2025-10-21T07:34:18","slug":"tame-impala-deadbeat-album-review","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/us\/320617\/","title":{"rendered":"Tame Impala: Deadbeat Album Review"},"content":{"rendered":"

It still might be his most successful attempt\u2014\u201cOblivion\u201d sinks to an absolute nadir as Parker aimlessly spritzes his falsetto over a limp dembow rhythm that barely musters an ounce of what, say, DJ Python<\/a> would do with it. He wastes the first half of \u201cNot My World\u201d wafting through one of the emptiest, most nothing beats of the year, eventually arriving at a shimmering bell-tone melody that actually doesn\u2019t sound too bad. But is there really a reason for you to reach for this over one of the countless deep house producers out there who can actually pull this style off with finesse? Over and over, Parker ends up in the mushy middle: He strains for the highs of a side-long R&S<\/a> epic on the trancey, eight-minute \u201cEthereal Connection\u201d without ever finding release, and continually sabotages whatever momentum he manages to build on the closing Balearic snoozer \u201cEnd of Summer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Between all these would-be workouts are some serious misfires. \u201cPiece of Heaven\u201d is a half-hearted Enya<\/a>-meets-\u201cHollaback Girl\u201d mashup that refuses to deliver on its promise of fun, and the dead-on-arrival Brian Wilson<\/a>-lite throwaway \u201cSee You On Monday (You\u2019re Lost)\u201d really sounds like something we weren\u2019t supposed to hear. It\u2019s admirable for Parker to throw himself into something new and continue to redefine how people think of him. But the sense of craft that made Tame Impala stand out in the first place is all but gone. Instead of lavishly reminding us of simple joys like a snappy R&B beat switch or a good flanger-pedal drop, we get drum machines sloppily plugged into guitar amps and left to spin their rudimentary loops; none of this stuff ever really explores how freeing, powerful, or even therapeutic dance music can be.<\/p>\n

The worst part is that, through it all, I can still hear a world where this could\u2019ve been something\u2014the sound of a bad trip, a bleary comment on adulthood and success, or just hard, hypnotic rhythms soundtracking Parker\u2019s spiral into self-doubt. Most of these songs aren\u2019t offensive on their own: \u201cDracula\u201d may not be anything special, but its cheesy boogie is catchy enough. \u201cAfterthought\u201d would have been the weakest and most repetitive song on Currents, but that still makes it the strongest thing here. The cumulative effect, though, is exhausting, a daisy-chain of shaky half-measures that doesn\u2019t even feel particularly committed to being depressing.<\/p>\n

The other issue is that Parker already tested out many of these dance-hybrid attempts with better results on his last album, The Slow Rush<\/a>. In that record\u2019s standout moments, you could see how the concept of Parker rebuilding<\/a> house<\/a> tracks<\/a> from the ground up with his analog disco setup could potentially lead to lush and novel ends. But on Deadbeat, Parker mostly just seems enamored with the sound of big, empty beats thudding out into space. On the first single from his debut album, Parker sang, \u201cThere\u2019s a party in my head\/And no one is invited.\u201d Fifteen years later, he\u2019s blown that image up to superclub proportions; it\u2019s a sad spectacle to behold.<\/p>\n

All products featured on Pitchfork are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.<\/p>\n

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