Deadbeat Review

The premise is sound. He grew up around all night outdoor raves in Western Australia and wanted to make a record shaped by them, so the tempos lock, the kick drum sits on every beat and the tracks are built to be endured rather than followed. The trouble is that dance music of this kind lives or dies on either a physical low end or an idea that develops, and this too often has neither.

End of Summer is the best case, twelve minutes that actually earn their length through slow accumulation. Dracula has a hook. But across the album the vocal melodies are the thinnest of his career, the lyrics are a handful of repeated phrases about not being able to show up for people, and the arrangements settle into a comfortable mid pace that neither moves a body nor rewards attention. It is competently made, it sold well, and it is the first Tame Impala album where the sound is not the reason to hear it.