For almost the past year, Kevin Parker, the singular genius behind Tame Impala, has been releasing singles, mounting anticipation for the release of The Slow Rush, Tame Impala’s follow-up to their 2015 masterpiece Currents. There seemed to be several surprises, however, upon the album’s official release. A revamped, more bass-heavy version of “Borderline” appeared in place of last summer’s release, and “Patience,” my warm-weather-anthem of last year, was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it had only existed to tell fans to hold out for The Slow Rush—the question is: was it worth the wait?
I’ve personally heard mixed reviews of this album from fellow Tame Impala stans. Some say it’s redundant. Others think that Parker was trying to replicate Currents, an impossible feat, which suggests that everything to follow will always live in its shadow. Upon a closer look at the motifs of The Slow Rush, highlighting the interdependent nature of the songs, it all seems to be different sides of the same conversation Parker is not only having with us as listeners, but more importantly, with himself.
The cathartic nature of Parker’s new album shows the depth of his self-reflection, giving us, his devotees, a peek into his process of letting go, while encouraging us to do the same. It’s hard to hear the messages embedded in the songs without feeling a certain empathy, evoking a need for personal reflection as well. The arc of Parker’s story shows a common tension between balancing the hurt of being “lost in yesterday,” alluding to the grief of his father’s death, while celebrating the “destiny” of his recent marriage.
With the content of the album sharing a common root - Parker’s struggle with living in the present while healing from the past—the songs themselves share similar musical themes. In true Tame Impala fashion, the bass is prominent throughout the work, especially in “Glimmer,” where Parker cleverly samples a podcast that challenges the quality of a song based on how loud the bass is. Needless to say, “Glimmer” is one of many songs from the album I have on repeat.
Also included on this list is the three-song progression of “Posthumous Forgiveness,” “Breathe Deeper,” and “Tomorrow’s Dust.” Musically speaking, each of these songs lasts about six minutes, allowing for Parker to develop different layers and moods within them, akin to “Let It Happen” and “New Person, Same Old Mistakes” from Currents. At first listen, the ways in which the melodies interact between these songs, with the end of “Tomorrow’s Dust” featuring an audibly distant version of “Breathe Deeper” in the background, is yet another testament to Parker’s detail-oriented artistic expression. Lyrically speaking, however, the three songs seem to encapsulate Parker’s processing of his father’s death, showing how the interaction between the melodies of the songs and their lyrics is vital to building the album’s meaning.
“Posthumous Forgiveness” confronts the problems in Parker’s relationship with his father, with a musical and lyrical shift symbolizing Parker’s wish for his father to still be alive. After this heavy reflection, “Breathe Deeper” shows Parker trying to rebuild his confidence from the ashes of his pain by having fun, suggesting that once he is more healed, he can “be as one” with someone else, likely referring to his recent marriage. “Tomorrow’s Dust” provides a clearer reflection on the content of the preceding songs, stating, “There’s no use trying to relate to that older soul and...there’s no use pining for love when you’re on your own.” After going through the adjustment of life after the death of another, Parker recognizes that remnants of that pain will live in the “air of today,” as well as the happiness that can come from focusing on the present.
The emotional progression through the lyrics of these three songs is a firsthand expression of the stages of grief, one that creates a cathartic listening experience not only for Parker but for anyone who gives The Slow Rush a chance. The progression ends with the muffled voice of Parker’s wife on the phone saying, “...and that’s the unknown,” a chilling transition into the rest of the album, which touches on the other emotions that Parker has found in his grief, like happiness and love from his marriage, but, naturally, later lyrics continue to circle around the pain Parker reflects on. Although it’s easy to draw parallels between this album and Currents, I believe the vulnerable and healing nature of Parker’s new album makes this another job well done for Tame Impala, and, strictly speaking, he’s still on track.
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