Review: TAME IMPALA – “Deadbeat”

But Deadbeat doesn't end with this explosive incipit, on the contrary!

The hour of music that follows — 56 minutes of hypnotic pulsations and psychedelic chiaroscuro — develops as a perceptive journey, a mental rave between introspection and catharsis. Oblivion, it almost sounds like electronic reggaeton, in Not My World the straight filtered speaker punctuates a futuristic mantra almost as if Depeche Mode started making Edm, while Ethereal Connectionwith its over seven minutes, is an electronic ritual that culminates in the suspended intimacy of See You On Monday (You're Lost), and then regain momentum in End of Summer.

Parker's sound, more electronic than ever, seems to filter the restlessness of the present through a prism of controlled euphoria. His recent acquaintances – including Dua Lipa – suggest an affinity with the most cerebral dance: twisted bass lines, constantly changing synthetic patterns, an almost engineering elegance.

Yet, in certain moments, the pop voice risks dampening the power of the sound (Afterthought is an example), as if Parker's perfectionism gave way to his more conciliatory side.

Made between Fremantle and the Wave House Studio in Injidup, Deadbeat translates into music the wild soul of Western Australia, its bush doof tradition and the distant echo of primordial raves. It's a record of clubs and deserts, of isolation and liberation. Here Parker abandons the maniacal control of the past in favor of a more instinctive minimalism, letting the sound breathe and deform.

Lyrically, “Deadbeat” is the x-ray of an existential tiredness. Parker recounts an infinite cycle of disillusionment and self-analysis, where the party becomes therapy and the beat, rather than cure, becomes anesthesia. After The Slow Rush and his obsession with time, here the artist is confronted with the emptiness that follows waiting: the melancholy of the same days, the echo of the noise when the music ends.

In an era where many records sound like exercises in style, “Deadbeat” still has the strength of a gesture. It's an album that doesn't want to please, but to vibrate; who does not seek perfection, but friction.

It's proof that Kevin Parker hasn't stopped questioning himself — and answering himself in the form of sound.

A record that goes straight into the top of the best records of 2025!

TO LISTEN NOW

My Old Ways – No Reply – Dracula

TO BE SKIPPED IMMEDIATELY

Of course nothing!