Tame Impala

In a way it makes sense. Tame Impala, unassuming local Perth boys, decide to bypass the folded-arm set in the big city to play Ballarat and Geelong, the kind of town ample with people that think they are cool for knowing such an “underground” act. Geelong too, is similarly bereft of originality (a new mall was recently heralded as the town’s exciting entry into future), but while most of the audience will never make it beyond their admittedly narrow confines, this band really have the chops to go higher.

It’s all because of the completely unapologetic way Tame Impala inhabit the Cream of ’60s psychedelia like this really was the era of Haight and Ashbury, the utter intuition with which they play it and the way this nostalgia is always undercut with a forward thrust. Check out the casual yet intense breakdowns as the band snake around the backend of the excellent bob-back-and-forth ‘Desire Be Desire Go’, working the song into a paste before pouncing just when they need to.

It’s telling then that the only fuck ups tonight are on the side of the crowd. Kevin Parker cops a mic in the gob and Dominic Simper finds his bass completely cut as some dork jumps onstage for his five seconds. “Everyone just try to settle down,” implores Parker, but it’s a lost cause. The crowd’s behaviour might be termed inappropriate, but it’s really indicative of just how much this band thoroughly rock. That’s where the band and its “chosen town” really come to mesh: there’s no bullshit here, maybe a sour taste in the mouth of some that think they know better, but let them hang back while shit melts.

by Lawson Fletcher