Mixing psychedelic sixties pop with indie sensibilities is nothing new. Here at home Tame Impala have well and truly beaten Unknown Mortal Orchestra to the punch, but there’s no denying the group’s charm and ability. Their eponymous debut is actually the latest project from ex-Mint Chicks guitarist Ruban Neilson, an immediately accessible record whose logic, strangely, runs on contradiction. Its spacey sheen created through claustrophobic production, addictive melodies grown from repetitive motifs, evoking a druggy freedom despite its structural discipline.
Opener Ffunny Ffriends flags all these tropes in its devilishly simplistic four minutes. All tie-dyed histrionics through stuffy vocals and a matching guitar melody built on a loop of tension and release. Bicycle follows a similar blueprint, its monochromatic chord changes and the constant hiss of tambourine conjuring a tense mood. In Thought Ballune they could easily soundtrack the summer of love, with echoing vocals about ‘smiley alligators,’ while psychedelic keyboard squiggles lean on a funky rhythm section. How Can U Love Me (with notably lacking question mark) is equally intemperate with its rubbery bass-line, flexed falsetto and muggy, garage sonics.
Rounding out the LP’s thirty minutes are experimental segues (Nerve Damage!, Strangers Are Strange), warped blues (Little Blu House) and acid-soaked fuzz in both languid, for Jello and Juggernauts, and jagged, for closing Boy Witch.
From its cheeky misspellings to its naive wordplay, there’s a sense of humour that permeates the album. Whether it’s an ironic put-on, or the sound of three friends simply having fun, getting stoned and playing garage-funk; it hardly matters. It doesn’t detract from what they’ve drafted as an opening statement, a very listenable album that’s as suited to the taste-making playlists of the iPod generation as it is the dusty confines of an antique vinyl stoop.
By Al Newstead
