Tame Impala - Currents

Tame Impala

Currents

Interscope, 2015

6.0

When Tame Impala released "Let It Happen" in early March, announcing the 2015 release of their third album and North American tour, it felt momentous: a band making the leap from "really good" to something special. Two albums of immaculate, distinctive, but relatively safe, psychedelic rock had cemented their place in the indie music consciousness and on the festival circuit, but the eight minute space pop roller coaster that somehow served as Currents' first single signaled that Kevin Parker and co. had something more ambitious planned than a third version of the same album.

Just as it was piece of the new album we heard, "Let It Happen" is the first thing you hear when you play the album, and it remains as thrilling now as it was on that March afternoon. It immediately tells you what to expect from Currents: approximately five times as many different synth sounds as guitar sounds (it's not until the 6-and-a-half minute mark that we hear our first guitar, playing a fuzzy riff that bounces sharply through the airy synth pads), more of Parker's falsetto than his full-voiced John Lennon impression, and Parker's entire growing arsenal of studio tricks, from the low pass filters that put the drums briefly underwater, to the breakdown that sticks the looping button in the "on" position to simulate the effect of a record skipping in time, while cinematic strings swell ominously upwards. It's an exhilarating joyride that weaves its way through time and space over its full eight minute runtime, but it's also the high-water mark of the album, and many of its most exciting implications go unexplored over the rest of an ambitious effort that ultimately feels like a big swing and a miss for an obviously talented creator. 

Parker is embracing the role he's always felt best suited for: producer, rather than bandleader. And Currents sounds more the work of a producer than a band: layered synths and finger snaps abound in place of Lonerism and Innerspeaker's trademark fuzzy drums and reverb-laden guitars. Parker had always done the majority of the work on Tame Impala's albums by himself, but on Currents he fully wrote, recorded, performed, produced, and mixed the album alone. Fundamentally, it's an album about change, the evolution of the band's sound explored obliquely through the loose narrative of the dissolution of a romantic relationship. "Let It Happen" sets the stage in outer space; "Nangs," Australian slang for nitrous oxide hits, floats back down through the upper atmosphere in a laughing gas-induced haze of intoxication, as Parker softly intones "Is there something wrong man?" over whirring synths and a sedate bassline, before fading out as quickly as a nitrous hit. "Moment" hints at "storm clouds approaching," while a bouncy drum beat bolstered by a clap track and an easy bass line rocks easily back and forth. It's the first moment on the album that's really representative of what's to come, establishing the 80s soul and pop groove that Currents leans on. "Yes I'm Changing" doubles down on this feel, settling into a slow R&B groove with glossy, shimmering synth pads, while Parker makes really, really sure everyone understands that people (and bands) change: "they say that people never change but that's bullshit / they do."

If Currents is a breakup record, then "Eventually" is the actual moment of division, and its emotional core. Unfortunately, like so many breakup talks, it's a clumsy mission statement. The chorus is intended to be the album's grand moment of catharsis, as Parker sings "But I know that I'll be happier / And I know you will too / Eventually" but it moves awkwardly,  mimicking the staggering gait of a shopping cart with a chunk missing from one wheel. It's still a massive moment of release and you can already picture the crowd's hand swaying in time to the slow drum beat, lit up by the multicolored lights of the disco ball, but it feels weirdly labored for a band to whom it always seemed to come so easily.

"Eventually" isn't the biggest whiff on the album, though: that goes to inexplicable single "'Cause I'm A Man," which is, musically, a slow burning R&B jam, and lyrically a lazy "boys will be boys" portrait of masculinity at best, and a misguided nod to the regressive bullshit of evolutionary psychology at worst. The chorus of "Cause I'm a man, woman / I don't think, I just do" is frankly cringe-inducing and there's nothing interesting enough to ignore the lyrics in favor of. Fortunately, it more evokes the concept of masculinity than it actually dives into analyzing it; as it is, it's the biggest misstep of the album.

This is the frustrating part of Parker's lyrics on Currents: there's little nuance and less specificity. Take "Past Lives," which skips ahead in the breakup narrative, to a point where Parker, narrating through pitched down vocals, has kind of come to terms and moved on ("I've got a pretty solid routine these days"), until he sees "my lover / from a past life" while picking up his dry cleaning and is jolted back into old memories and thoughts of rekindling his old romance. As with all of his descriptions of the breakup, his thoughts are familiar to everyone who has ended a relationship: "I mean, I don't even know if she has the same phone number...what's the worst that could happen?" This is basically everyone's breakup cycle and yes, that makes it easily relatable to the casual listener, but that also keeps it from being anything else, much less insightful or, well, interesting.

There are bright spots, though. On "The Less I Know The Better" a jaunty bass line provides some bounce and direction to the bright, glamorous synths that populate the rest of the album. It's easily the most successful take on the 80s soul and funk that Parker has splashed throughout Currents, owing largely to the vocal melody on the chorus as Parker sings "I was doing fine without you / til I saw your face," which serves as a reminder that Tame Impala's greatest strength has always been the ease Parker settles into the perfect melody that sounds both familiar and brand new. Special praise here is owed to Parker for recycling the bell synth leads from Siouxsie and the Banshees' "Cities In Dust" to great effect.

"Reality In Motion" provides a much-needed palette cleanser following "'Cause I'm A Man." The drum fills leading into the chorus, as Parker sings "there's no one else aROUND youuu" are vintage Tame Impala and another reminder of how good they are when they're on. "Disciples," driven by a catchy falsetto melody with AM radio style production that gets turned  on and off at the flip of a switch, feels like it has the same kind of potential, but fades out frustratingly quickly, before reaching the two minute mark.

The album trudges forgettably to its conclusion on "Love/Paranoia," which finds Parker still stewing in the ashes of his breakup with his many synth pads, and "New Person, Same Old Mistakes," which solidifies the album's theme of transformation through the ending of a relationship, emerging as a new person who is still not all that different from the old. There's an obvious application to the band's stylistic shift from guitar-driven psych rock to synth-laden R&B, soul, and funk, and you get the sense Parker is self-conscious about the change, going so far as to structure his album around justifying it. He clearly understood he would alienate the fans who just wanted Tame Impala to continue releasing the same album over and over again; these are the same fans who comment on YouTube videos of classic rock bands that no one makes "real music" these days. It feels a bit unnecessary; if the songs are good enough, the instrumentation and influences won't matter.

And ultimately, the songs are a mixed bag. Most frustrating are the three truncated interludes which hinted at quality songs buried, if fully explored. Releasing the two weakest tracks on the album as the second and third singles is just confusing. And then "Let It Happen" is still otherworldly, accompanied by other moments of brilliance scattered throughout the rest of the album. Currents isn't a classic and it doesn't need to be;  it's an intriguing if uneven exploration of new territory for Parker, whose future output will be better for having made this album.

Built To Spill - 'Untethered Moon'

Built To Spill
Untethered Moon
Warner Bros. 2015

8.0

The opening track of Untethered Moon, "All Our Songs", tells you basically everything you need to know about the mindset of founder and sole permanent band member Doug Martsch in approaching the band's eighth studio album and first in six years, the longest such gap. There's the admission of the possibility that the 23-year-old Boise project may be nearing its end ("Ah, when it's over, then it's over / Or so they say,"). There's thoughtful reflection on the past ("All night, listened to the second record / it had all these songs / sounded like we're in this together,") that ultimately reaffirms what's kept Martsch plugging away at these records ("And I found a place / Where I know I'll always be tethered / And I knew when I woke up / rock and roll will be here forever,"). And there is, finally, defiance ("Rain on down / show everybody what it means to get wet / let's take down the umbrellas of all our enemies / I'll be fine  in Idaho, America in the 21st century,") in the face of the unknown ("I'm sure that I'll be alright / but I don't know / I don't know,"). It's a powerful opening statement and about as straightforward lyrically as anything you're going to get out of Martsch regarding himself, the band, and the future. Its vintage Built To Spill, down to the fuzzy, echoing guitar riffs, the six-plus minute running time as the opening track, the quick guitar solos snuck into the gaps between verses, and the back third of the song that kicks into double time, then shifts into a break down before moving into a quick guitar freakout that races to the finish line. It's the kind of thing you cap off a riotous show with, so obviously it's the first thing you hear on the album.

At this point, not many things in music are more reliable than the new Built To Spill album, so there are few surprises to be found here, other than the small but significant jump in quality from the rest of Martsch's 21st century output. The previous three albums, Ancient Melodies of the Future (2001), You In Reverse (2006), and There Is No Enemy (2009) were fine but mostly unmemorable, outside of one or two choice tracks per album (respectively "Strange," "Goin' Against Your Mind," and "Nowhere Lullaby") that eventually caused one to wonder if Martsch and his revolving cast of band members really had all that much left to say anymore.

But clearly they do, and it lends the album a sense of urgency that had been sorely missed. Martsch has never been the most forthcoming or illuminating with his lyrics, but there are glimpses of his mind to be had. On "Another Day," Martsch cops to this criticism, admitting "And I don't expect anyone to read my mind / but when you don't I'm disappointed every time," and frets over "an obsolescence no one would have planned." "I just want you to know how I feel," Martsch says before launching into a guitar-led instrumental break that lasts the majority of the brief song, demonstrating that his best tool for conveying his emotions has always been through his guitar rather than his microphone.

And ultimately, it is the music that drives the album more than the lyrics. Despite rotating the lineup as is tradition (for this record, Martsch is joined by Steve Gere and Jason Albertini, former Built To Spill roadies), the majority of the album sits musically in familiar territory for Built To Spill. The fuzzy, swirling guitars are still there, at times bringing to mind an alternate universe where Pavement is re-imagined as a jam band. Lead single "Living Zoo" begins with a gradually exhilarating acceleration of tempo before settling into a comfortable, upbeat groove. There are tinges of surf rock on the album as well, with easy-breezy guitar chords rudely interrupted by borderline lo-fi buzzsaw riffs.

But closer "When I'm Blind" steals the show. Coming across as a post-apocalyptic spaghetti western combination of Pixies' "Vamos (Surfer Rosa)" and Cloud Nothings' "Wasted Days," it allows for two minutes of brief, bleak exposition before quickly storming into a heavily distorted, six minute guitar meltdown that pushes the band just to the point of disjointed collapse before they suddenly arrive back on the main riff and sprint triumphantly to the finish. It proves that Martsch was right to stick "All Our Songs" at the beginning of the album, because this right here is how you end an album, or a live show. You can't follow a song like this; you may as well toss the guitars off the stage and kick over the drums on your way out. Then again, they've only played it twice on their current tour, and neither time was as their closer, so maybe this is just the kind of song they do best. This is the band who wrote "Stop The Show," after all.

There's a million tiny little moments, like the moment on "When I'm Blind" when the band converges back on the song's core riff, that linger in your head long afterwards, moments that take the songs from "pretty good" to "memorable," moments that elevate this album above their others. The way the guitars on "On The Way," build and build to the 2:55 mark and then sustain through the next phrase as another layer of guitars crash in on top of them. The tempo creep on the intro of "Living Zoo" and the outro of "So," and the crunchy guitar tones used throughout that song. Marsch singing, on "Some Other Song," "I don't know how to never fall apart / please tell me how to never fall apart," as his guitar plaintively mimics his vocal melody. I've liked just about every Built To Spill song I've heard, but not all of them stick with me. With a couple exceptions, the songs on this album do. To my ears, Untethered Moon is the strongest thing he's done since Keep it Like A Secret (1999), and a cohesive, very-good-if-not-great album that reminds you of Built To Spill's place in the indie rock pantheon just in case anyone had begun to overlook them on their way from Pavement to Modest Mouse.