I wasn’t exactly a fan of the trio while they were cutting their teeth – maybe it was a failure in translating their signature rudimentary recordings to the live setting, or the fact that I couldn’t sleep in at Meredith.
Perth boys-made-good Tame Impala exploded in the summer of ‘08/’09 with their self-titled EP and the acid-drenched freakout jam Half Full Glass Of Wine, and were thus rewarded with near-ubiquity over the course of that festival period. I wasn’t exactly a fan of the trio while they were cutting their teeth – maybe it was a failure in translating their signature rudimentary recordings to the live setting, or the fact that I couldn’t sleep in at Meredith due to being awoken by the relentless “gen gen ga gen” of that fucking Blue Boy cover they bust out at every show. Regardless, the lads have kicked it up a notch in 2010 with the release of their ridiculously good debut LP, Innerspeaker, and seem set on assuming the role of Australian rock’s next big thing.
As the throng of punters entered a sold-out Palace from a drenched Bourke St, sunny Brisbanites John Steel Singers brightened everyone’s mood with their solid repertoire of radio-friendly tunes. The horny (trumpet and trombone) sextet performed a dutifully unhinged routine, with numbers such as Strawberry Wine and Evolution resulting in the already sizable crowd reciprocating the exuberance onstage. Just before tearing into their last number, the band welcomed onstage a member from the night’s headliners. With Tame Impala stickman Jay Watson providing some superfluous drums, the pseudo-supergroup revelled in what was a clear theme for the night – ‘60s nostalgia-infused jams.
The four young lads from Tame Impala’s live incarnation floated onstage underneath their dense mops of hair and kicked straight into a verbatim recital of album opener It Is Not Meant To Be. Despite the track’s subject matter, any attempts in the crowd to spark a blunt were repudiated by the eagle-eyed security team hanging in the rafters, who shone down their flashlights like the eye of Sauron upon anybody daring to expel a puff of smoke.
The delay-soaked vocals, phased-to-the-max guitars, as well as the bassist’s inclination for the higher registers of his Hofner, all resulted in an overly top-heavy mix. The sonic issues failed to hamper the crowd’s enthusiasm (many of whom seemed to be enjoying an extended end-of-season footy trip and a few pills-n-brews with the boys), which reached fever pitch as track-of-the-year candidate Solitude Is Bliss was busted out early in the set. Proving to be the polar opposite to the frenzied action on the floor, frontman Kevin Parker’s stagemanship was stoic, yet fittingly sedated. As if to compensate, a dynamic laser visualiser was projected to the rear of stage to provide eye-candy.
The series of faithful, yet somewhat lacking, recreations of album cuts seemed only to serve as precursor to the loose extended jam of Desire Be, Desire Go. For the first time in the night, the band seemed self-assured, Parker’s vocals resonated stronger, and the crowd were privy to some good old-fashioned jamming.
After a loose, and largely great, rendition of sure-fire fan-pleaser Half Full Glass Of Wine, the boys said goodnight, house lights on, exit music played. Despite much chanting and pleading, there would be no encore.
All in all it was a brief, perfunctory set in the wrong kind of venue, at the wrong time of year, with the wrong type of crowd on the wrong type of drugs. Yet, they still managed to pull it off – minds were blown, faces were melted. Bring on the Falls appearance I say. Gen gen ga gen.
