Even in retrospect, the success of Tame Impala seems somewhat unthinkable.
This is a weirdo psych-rock band from a country that only periodically produces stars that are adored the world over, led by a long-haired polymath who doesn’t actually really like doing press. The best you’d expect from a band like that most of the time is to become locally adored — a pack of homegrown heroes with, at most, a bizarro cult following overseas.
Of course, that’s not the status of Tame Impala. Tame Impala are one of the biggest bands in the world, pop royalty that have collaborated with some of the most successful and important stars the contemporary music machine has to offer. They’re a headline act on almost any festival poster they appear on, and have inspired a small army worth of imitators. It’s hard to think of many Australian acts that have so defiantly grabbed the trends of their times by the lapels, and changed the shape of music we listen to.
To that end, and ahead of the release of their new record The Slow Rush, we’ve ranked every single Tame Impala song ever written, from the forgettable to the unbelievable.
#54. ‘List Of People (To Try And Forget About)’
A list of songs (I definitely forgot about):
1) This one.
#53. ‘Island Walking’
A less fleshed-out version of everything else on Innerspeaker. Pass.
#52. ‘Jeremy’s Storm’
It was written about a storm Parker experienced near his house. Therefore, it grows and builds like a storm before disappearing completely. Forgettable.
#51. ‘The Sun’
I’m nowhere near high enough for this.
#50. ‘Alter Ego’
It’s like the slightly less cool version of ‘Solitude Is Bliss’. It’s fine.
#49. ‘Wander’
See above.
#48. ‘Slide Through My Fingers’
See above.
#47. ‘Forty One Mosquitoes Flying In Formation’
If there’s one issue with early Tame Impala tracks and perhaps the modern iteration of psychedelic rock in general, it’s that some of them can just sort of blend into one another, losing certain moments that would otherwise make them special. Of course, to some people, that’s half the reason why they adore the genre, but it does make it hard to truly appreciate them individually.
#46. ‘She Just Won’t Believe Me’
Give us a full version, Kev.
#45. ‘Sundown Syndrome’
It’s like the 1960s threw up. This was Tame Impala’s first official single and you can hear the potential. It’s not great — all swing, little ding. But there’s little diamonds among this technicolour storm that give us a glimpse into what would inevitably be a legendary career.
#44. ‘Nangs’
You got any?
#43. ‘I Don’t Really Mind’
Love it when the title of a song is also a descriptor of how I feel the song itself.
#42. ‘Past Life’
TikTok has ruined this for me because the “hello?” at the end reminds me of all those little shit American teens quoting H2O: Just Add Water by yelling “CLEEEEOYUH!”
#41. ‘Gossip’
Unfortunately not an homage to the band behind ‘Standing In The Way Of Control’ and ‘Heavy Cross’. For shame.
#40. ‘Led Zeppelin’
Did Tame Impala need an homage track to Led Zeppelin? Probably not. It’s still fun though.
#39. ‘Expectation’
You think the song is trippy enough and then you watch the video.
#38. ‘Mind Mischief’
Where was this song on the Sex Education soundtrack? Where?!
#37. ‘Beverly Laurel’
Although it’s a B-Side, ‘Beverly Laurel’ feels like the perfect bridge from Lonerism to Currents, which probably explains why it doesn’t feature on either.
#36. ‘Borderline’
‘Borderline’ on its own merit is just okay, it might even be a bit lacklustre. But ‘Borderline’ in the grand scheme of Kevin Parker’s discography feels like a revelation.
Parker’s vocals — which in the past were deliberately hidden beneath layers and layers of instrumentation — are brought to the foreground, and while the track is a little safe on the whole, that doesn’t mean I don’t keep coming back to that beautiful woodwind peppered throughout.
#35. ‘Runway Houses City Clouds’
Monstrous in length and in sound, with a deceptively dreamy outro to cap it all off.
#34. ‘Powerlines’
If David Lynch made a Tame Impala song, this would be it.
#33. ‘Taxi’s Here’
It’s the haziest track to come out of the Currents era, which leads me to question why it was delegated to a B-Sides release as opposed to the main event. Wouldn’t this be a perfect closer? What gives?
#32. ‘Skeleton Tiger’
If a Tame Impala/Psych-era Beatles comparison has ever held weight, it’s here.
#31. ‘Love/Paranoia’
I just want Kevin to know that he would never have to worry about me cheating on him.
#30. ‘Disciples’
The only downside to ‘Disciples’ is that is simply does not go for long enough.
#29. ‘Reality In Motion’
The more I think about ‘Reality In Motion’, the more I think it belongs on Lonerism and not Currents. The chorus slaps.
#28. ‘Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Can Control’
While a song that explicitly references and features Parker’s ex-girlfriend, Melody, ‘Nothing That Has Happened So Far’ contains lessons that Parker can and should carry with him throughout the rest of his life.
In a spoken interlude, Melody says “Nothing has to mean anything” which is probably the one big takeaway Lonerism gives us. The song is sprawling and can drag on at times, but its absence would leave the album as a hopeless downward spiral as opposed to an important lesson in self-reflection and, ultimately, growth.
#27. ‘Patience’
Some people think it’s bland, some people think it’s boring, and yeah, you can see why. But there’s something about ‘Kevin Parker Does Disco’ and those bongos that push the track forward and hook into your veins.
Additional shoutout to Parker for having the nerve to break his four year absence with “Has it really been that long?”
#26. ‘Keep On Lying’
For a song that sits firmly between two of Tame Impala’s best on Lonerism, ‘Keep On Lying’ does a pretty good job of not getting lost. The harrowing laughs coupled with the blazing guitar towards the end of the track is a particularly special touch.
#25. ‘Lost In Yesterday’
‘Lost In Yesterday’, above all else, feels like a sonic tribute to the Tame Impala of, ahem, yesterday. It has the simplicity of Innerspeaker, the bombast of Lonerism and the pop finesse of Currents.
The production is crisp and clear, and KP still manages to throw in a few curveballs for good measure — the distorted, crunching noises that hit just before the halfway mark are to die for.
#24. ‘Eventually’
If I was on the receiving end of this breakup song, I would be stung: “I know I always said that I could never hurt you/Well this is the very, very last time I’m ever going to.”
Christ, Kev.
#23. ‘Yes I’m Changing’
Currents is an album that is entirely about change — that’s no secret. But Parker’s calm acceptance of the old-as-time paradox of ‘change is the only constant’ shows maturity, while also conveying way optimism. A real slow burner of a cut.
#22. ‘Music To Walk Home By’
There’s something delightfully juvenile about ‘Music To Walk Home By’. Parker has never excelled at seeming in touch with his emotions — who is? — and his inner monologue, which feels like a continuation of what was discussed in ‘Mind Mischief’, is a tornado of his own confusion: “In so many ways I’m somebody else/While tryin’ so hard to be myself”
#21. ‘Endors Toi’
‘Endors Toi’ directly translated means ‘fall asleep’, which makes no sense because this is a wildly euphoric song.
#20. ‘Desire Be Desire Go’
It’s noisy. It’s chaotic. It’s hazy. It’s crunchy. It’s the Tame Impala a lot of Australians were introduced to and, whether our nostalgia goggles are on or we’ve somehow we’ve somehow ingested a healthy dose of LSD, it still holds up.
#19. ‘Why Won’t They Talk To Me?’
There is something so heart-wrenching and gut-punching about “Whoopsie-daisy, I thought I was happy” that it almost distracts you from this gorgeously introspective song that sees Parker finally achieve some clarity, regardless of how melancholic it is.
#18. ‘Sun’s Coming Up’
A beautiful, striking and melancholic finale to Lonerism. It’s a sonic blindside, at first sombre, before finishing up with a fiery guitar solo.
#17. ‘Be Above It’
On an album that is quite literally about Parker trying to break out of his introversion, ‘Be Above It’ serves as a last-ditch effort to pep himself up. The looped, almost panicked chants of the song’s title throughout the song’s entirety could double as something Parker would tell himself before walking on to stage to an erupting crowd.
#16. ‘Solitude Is Bliss’
Kevin Parker once said that this song, the lead single of Innerspeaker, is like “coked up Tame Impala.”
‘Solitude Is Bliss’ is assertive, strong, and is a departure from most of the other tracks on Innerspeaker, where Parker exists wholly in his own head — like most of Tame Impala’s songs to be honest. It’s as pop as he went in 2010, and the influence he had on Australian bands like Last Dinosaurs, San Cisco, and The Jungle Giants becomes clear once you blow away the smog.
#15. ‘New Person, Same Old Mistakes’
As the great Jaboukie Young-White consistently reminds us, it was very kind of Rihanna to let Tame Impala cover her original hit. 10 out of 10, good shit.
#14. ‘Lucidity’
The sparse guitars that hit just before the two-minute mark are beyond delightful. ‘Lucidity’ marks a special point in Tame Impala’s career, where Kevin Parker proved he could make a bona fide hit, even with all the fuzz and the haze that might smudge the interest of less attentive listeners.
#13. ‘Cause I’m A Man’
‘Cause I’m A Man’ is the closest Kev has ever gotten himself to being cancelled, but it’s wonderful he avoided it because this song is stunning. His vulnerability borders on pitiful, which the excuse of “I’m human” frankly is, but it’s coated in thick layers of introspection.
At one time, we feel sorry for him, we want to excuse him, we’re repelled by him and we’re eye rolling at him. He can’t seem to put into words why he did what he did, and frankly that’s a feeling that’s all too relatable — for all of us.
#12. ‘Why Won’t You Make Up Your Mind?’
‘WWYMUYM?’ is a dizzying carousel of modern psych rock, even by Kevin Parker’s standards. Even the repetition of the lyrics, which are comparatively basic, has you going round in circles, reflecting Parker’s feelings towards his prospective partner’s infuriating indecision.
#11. ‘Half Full Glass Of Wine’
Three things:
1) A classic Tame Impala track if there ever was one.
2) The drums though.
3) I forgot Kevin Parker’s voice could even get this low.
#10. ‘Apocalypse Dreams’
‘Apocalypse Dreams’ is one of Kevin Parker’s true mad scientist moments. Maniacally, he packs and unpacks, screws and unscrews layers built on a haunting mix of keys.
The final result is as glorious as it is colossal, but it also reminds you to go back to the start and pick up on elements you may have missed out on the first time around. Part of Tame Impala’s magic is that there’s always a hidden sparkle glistening through the haze, and ‘Apocalypse Dreams’ is a gold mine.
#9. ‘It Might Be Time’
Kevin Parker is notoriously good at giving his singles’ an “Oooooh my god!” moment that are sure to send a crowd wild as soon as it hits. The “yeah!” in ‘Elephant’. The breakdown in ‘Let It Happen’. The “It’s getting closer!” in ‘The Moment’. We haven’t heard The Slow Rush just yet, but it’s hard to believe there’ll be any one line that will be as cathartic or as euphoric as the scream of “it might be time to face it!” in this song.
It’s a parade of a song. The percussion is loud and bashful. The synths spark around you in bright neon. And, that revolving door of a siren — akin to the one that features in Kill Bill — makes ‘It Might Be Time’ one of Tame Impala’s most volcanic offerings.
#8. ‘The Moment’
Is Kevin Parker a sexual icon? If you’re afraid of haircuts and shoes, maybe. Is ‘The Moment’ the sexiest song he’s ever produced? Absolutely.
While lyrically it follows on from the laissez-faire message outlined in ‘Let It Happen’, the way the song creeps down your spine from the opening notes is a sound that Parker had yet to fully embrace. Containing brief flashes of Prince, it’s a ballsy pop banger that sees Parker reckon with a newfound carefree attitude. Maybe he’s too ahead of himself, maybe he’s just having some doubts. Whatever the case, ‘The Moment’ slaps.
#7. ‘The Less I Know The Better’
Fucking Trevor.
#6. ‘It Is Not Meant To Be’
When the wider world discusses great Tame Impala songs, ‘It Is Not Meant To Be’ is often overlooked. The track opens Innerspeaker with a few seconds of white noise, before crisp guitars wade in and out, glittering with bright orange and deep blue.
Additionally, few of Tame’s lyrics hit this hard. With ‘It Is Not Meant To Be’, like a lot of Tame tracks, written about the inevitable failure of a relationship, the last three lines tacked on during the end seem to be about Kevin losing his father, Jerry, to cancer — and they’re truly devastating.
“I thought they could cure his disease/But in all honesty he didn’t have a hope in hell/Now we’ll never see him move.”
#5. ‘The Bold Arrow of Time’
As far as iconic guitar riff intros go, most people turn to ‘Smoke On The Water’ or ‘Enter Sandman’. But not enough people turn to ‘The Bold Arrow Of Time’, which is a key example in everything Kevin Parker was trying to achieve before 2012.
It is undeniably catchy, and far more accessible than some other Innerspeaker cuts while still clinging onto that signature sound that Tame Impala became known for. The explosive and colourful breakdown that happens at around the 2:30 mark is the perfect payoff for waiting around the slow, yet infectious, build.
#4. ‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’
‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ is a cornerstone in the legacy of Tame Impala, with every single one of its lines aching with desperation and frustration.
The absolute turmoil that unravels when Parker sings “I got my hopes up again/Oh no, not again” is a defining line of what is often considered one of the decade’s best albums, and completely anchors everything Lonerism is about — a messy clusterfuck of emotions and questions, soundtracked by an equally messy haze of melodies and beats. It’s instantly recognisable and never ceases to stun, making it one of the best tracks Tame Impala have ever delivered.
#3. ‘Posthumous Forgiveness’
‘Posthumous Forgiveness’ is a real journey. Not only because it is separated into two clear halves that are reminiscent of two different eras of Tame Impala, but because its lyrics are some of the most heartbreaking we’ve ever heard from Parker. Referencing his late father once again, the song struggles back and forth with resentment, longing and, of course, forgiveness.
Parker wishes his father, who he had an estranged relationship with after his parents got divorced, could see Parker’s astronomical success now — “Mick Jagger on the phone/I thought of you when we spoke” — but it’s clear he still harbours a lot of pain, for all the lost moments they could have had when his father was alive. “While you still had time, you had a chance/But you decided to take all your sorrys to the grave,” Parker sings.
Grief is a weird, non-linear process and Parker, years after losing his father, is still grappling with it. To hear him speak about it with such honesty and reality is refreshing, and very special.
#2. ‘Let It Happen’
‘Let It Happen’ marks Kevin Parker’s strongest musical experiment since the beginning of Tame Impala.
For someone whose entire discography grapples with his introversion and fear of risk, on ‘Let It Happen’ Parker tries to let go, slipping into a new sound and a new ear that may alienate his fans, and himself. In the end, he lets go, and thank god for that.
It’s almost eight minutes in length, but still doesn’t feel long enough. It’s sprawling and warm, the synths offering a vibrant bed for Parker’s swirling vocals. As the song ends, Parker realises that he was ready for the change all along, and holy shit, so were we.
#1. ‘Elephant’
The song that skyrocketed Tame Impala from long-haired Perth dwellers to the biggest Australian export on the planet — could any other song land at number one?
Not only is it a defining song and moment in the discography of Tame Impala, but it’s a defining song of music over the last decade. Written about a douchebag character — a rockstar trope that Kevin Parker has gracefully managed to avoid — the song is as bombastic and as reckless as its fictional subject. From those opening, thunderous blues riffs to the expansive, frenetic breakdown that serves as the song’s centrepiece, the song struts with the same braggadocio that bleeds through the lyrics: “He pulled the mirrors off his Cadillac / ‘Cause he doesn’t like it looking like he looks back.”
It’s a real glorious, shining moment in Kevin Parker’s already glittering career. This is Tame Impala at their clearest, their brightest and their best.
Jackson Langford is a freelance music and culture writer from Newcastle. He tweets at @jacksonlangford.
Photo Credit: Neil Krug