‘Deadbeat’, Kevin Parker’s first full-length since ‘The Slow Rush’ in 2020, feels like both an evolution and a pivot.

There’s something wonderfully ironic about rushing to be early to a Tame Impala event. You know everyone will rock up close to the start time when its guest listed, and fashionably detached, but my friend was adamant about beating the queue. We arrived early to Om in Dalston, only to be told we couldn’t loiter by two American guys seemingly from Columbia Records. Instead, we slipped next door to Three Sheets, a tiny, minimal bar that was very ‘we do small plates’ in London.

Three Sheets is the kind of place that makes you feel calm and chic. Their threefold black-and-white paper menu looked like an art book, and the bartender appeared more like a chef, meticulous and serious about his craft. He suggested a French 75, naturally the most expensive on the list. My friend asked if they did rosé and was met with a quick and simple ‘no’ before the bartender looked up, so we went classic: one glass of red, one white. Warmed up, we crossed back into Om where the night properly began.

Inside, ‘Deadbeat’ had fully taken over. Every guest was handed a Tame Impala ‘Deadbeat’ T-shirt and tote bag on arrival – an immediate win – and the bar, tiny and candlelit, was giving away free drinks with the same sense of quiet decadence. The long, narrow tables along the windows were lined with coasters, enamel pins, and little ‘Deadbeat’ menus, like a merch display made by an art student with taste.

The back of the room glowed in a deep red hue, pure David Lynch Twin Peaks energy. A disco ball turned lazily overhead, a projector looped hazy Tame Impala visuals, and a POC woman DJ at the front spun warm-up tracks before the playback. Only towards the end of the night, I noticed small signs by the speakers: “Please return disposable cameras here to be developed.” A girl asked if we wanted a picture; turns out, the cameras were part of the merch. Later, I took one of my friend just before the film ran out and we were snapped back into the fever dream.

When the room filled, it became a soft crush of Kevin Parker disciples – friendly, stylish, a little offbeat. A man in ‘Deadbeat’ merch took the mic to announce we’d be hearing the album two days before its release and was met with cheers.

Kevin Parker, the mastermind behind Tame Impala, has long been crowned the King of Psychedelic Rock. From the reverb-drenched rock of ‘Innerspeaker’ and ‘Lonerism’ to the smooth, introspective synths of ‘Currents’ and ‘The Slow Rush’, he’s traced a career arc through time and texture, from isolation to transcendence. With ‘Deadbeat’, Parker pivots once again: this time, into the glittering pulse of House music.

It’s a move that feels both daring and inevitable. With house and EDM bleeding further into the pop mainstream – from Charli XCX’s ‘BRAT’-fuelled party era to the global rise of amapiano and TikTok DJ culture – Parker’s new chapter lands squarely in the zeitgeist. But ‘Deadbeat’ isn’t just following a trend; it’s Parker bending house through his kaleidoscopic lens – soulful, psychedelic, and precise.

Tracks like Ethereal Connection hit hardest in the pivot, a full-bodied house anthem that builds and breaks with ecstatic reverb. Not My World fuses robotic synths with a slower, electro groove, giving way to a lush piano outro. My Old Ways opens the album and pairs a driving bassline and bright trumpet flourish, while No Reply dives lower, darker – its deep-register vocals teasing the record’s house heartbeat.

The singles still shine: Dracula and Loser have that familiar Parker polish – guitar riffs and basslines that feel like daylight through smoked glass. Obsolete spins in with chimes and ends in an almost Arabian-psychedelic flourish; Piece of Heaven (a personal favourite) offers a soft interlude moment at the end of its more emotional duration that recalls his ‘Currents’ B-sides, a floating reminder that Parker still knows when to slow the tempo and let the synths breathe.

By the time Afterthought closes ‘Deadbeat’, the energy circles back, upbeat, groovy, and deeply Tame Impala. It’s a summer send-off, a reminder that Parker’s world is one of both introspection and euphoria.

By the end of the night, everyone was still lingering, swaying, glowing red under the disco ball, clutching empty red paper cups. ‘Deadbeat’ isn’t just Kevin Parker’s experimental turn to house music – it’s his most communal work yet. If The Slow Rush was about the slow passage of time and looking back with gratitude, ‘Deadbeat’ is about losing yourself entirely, together, on the dance floor, regardless of how you look in the dance.

All photos my own.