Review by Kyle Fowle: Hailing from Australia, Tame Impala are a young band that play well beyond their years. Scratch that; they play well before their years, as their psychedelic soundscapes and dreamy vocals could easily have been lifted from the music of the '60s, an era dominated by the proto-metal of Cream and the Syd Barret-led incarnation of Pink Floyd. Innerspeaker, the band’s first full length, is an exercise in this genre, and for may listeners it may be an exercise in patience—each song builds, deliberately and gradually, through heavily reverbed guitars and vocals. Opener “It’s Not Meant to Be” juxtaposes echoing, looping guitars on a funky bass line, the barely-there vocals floating gently behind the music, occasionally delving into a heavy reverb before another psych-jam session takes over. “Alter Ego” hinges on another solid bass line, creating a heady, momentum-shifting tune filled with fuzzed-out vocals and the frankly bad-ass kit stylings of Jay Watson. In fact, Watson’s drumming is the real highlight of the album—his stellar mix of pounding bass drum and manic tom hits drive each and every track to heights that wouldn’t have otherwise been possible. Watson beats his kit to all hell, reserving the bridge for a quick breather only to kick right back in with a manic urgency that resonates at the heart of every track on this album.

Tame Impala's sound is immaculately vintage, often sounding like Cream with an extra hit of LSD—and for that, they deserves some credit. “The Bold Arrow of Time” is a blistering tune, as the clean, bluesy intro quickly makes way for an overdrive-laden exploration of pivoting time-signatures and flared guitar solos. The result is one killer track that, unfortunately, hits a little too late in the album to achieve its full face-melting potential. Penultimate “Runaway, Houses, City, Clouds” once again takes the listener on a trip—a seven-minute trip at that—but one wrought with the same musical, lyrical, acid-tinged dreamscapes present on every previous track. It’s another competently rendered song, but once again only serves as psychedelic pastiche, adding not much more than seven minutes of music to this wheel-spinning odyssey.

Innerspeaker is not a failure by any means, but when played straight-through (almost 55 minutes) the songs begin to bleed into each other, and a road already well-trodden becomes even more so. Tame Impala is attempting to work within a well-established and recognizable genre, yet there inability (or disinterest) to move in different directions ends up hindering what could be a more striking and intriguing album. Filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard once said, “It’s not where you take things from, it’s where you take them to.” Tame Impala takes unapologetically from '60’s psych-rock, yet they do nothing but transplant it into another generation, progression compensated for (or not) by relentless repetition. With many other modern psych-rock albums to choose from—the infinitely better Embryonic from the Flaming Lips, or any number of records from Sweden’s Dungen (who it must be said are basically the same band as Tame Impala)—Innerspeaker just does not transcend nor improve upon any of the blueprints laid out by either the flower-power generation's pioneers or its revivalists.

Last Word: Though a competent and sometimes compelling piece of psychedelic rock, Innerspeaker offers up old tricks with little room for innovation, or for that matter, intrigue.

Review By:
Kyle Fowle

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