With Deadbeat, Tame Impala continues drifting away from the kaleidoscopic psychedelia that first defined Kevin Parker’s project, embracing a more electronic, introspective, and late-night emotional palette than ever before. This is the sound of Tame Impala fully dissolving into warm synth haze, hypnotic grooves, and private, quietly aching moments. It’s an album that doesn’t demand attention but slowly envelops you— where the atmosphere itself becomes the hook.

The opener, “My Old Ways,” immediately communicates this shift. Instead of swirling guitars or lush, dream-pop flourishes, Parker begins with a fragile piano melody and raw, almost hesitant vocals. It’s disarming in its simplicity—nearly demo-like—yet vulnerable in a way that feels intentional. When the deep bass pulses finally drop and the hi-hats slip into a soft electro beat, the song opens up into a drifting, slow-motion groove. It’s a perfect thesis statement for Deadbeat: emotion first, groove second, psychedelia drifting somewhere between the cracks.

That hazy momentum carries directly into “No Reply,” which floats on fuzzy basslines, warm synth stabs, and a deceptively simple rhythm that feels like watching the world through sun-damaged film. It’s one of the album’s most inviting tracks, capturing Parker’s gift for making sadness feel strangely cozy.

“Dracula” is the album’s pop apex: slinky synth lines, playful little sci-fi beeps, and a vocal performance so charismatic it practically dances on its own. It’s sexy, colorful, and effortlessly addictive—a reminder that even in his most introspective era, Parker can still write a hook that owns your brain.

The album’s exploration of more “band-like” textures comes to life on “Loser,” where live bass and guitars cut through the dreamy electronics. The track feels slightly stiff rhythmically, but it’s charmingly unpolished—an experiment caught somewhere between bedroom-pop looseness and club-night gloss. The vocals come off a little over-processed at first, but they settle into the groove by the time the track hits its midpoint.

The middle stretch of Deadbeat slows down and sinks deeper into mood-driven soundscapes.
“Oblivion” dips into robotic reggae rhythms mixed with dreamy electro-pop vapor, giving the track a strange, floating unease.
“Not My World” begins weightless and lethargic before erupting into thick bass grooves and bright, futuristic synth layers—one of the album’s more surprising transitions and one that makes the track endlessly replayable.

One of the most polished moments is “Piece of Heaven,” which channels airy 90s ambient pop with feather-light production, crisp drums, and one of Parker’s clearest vocal performances on the record. Its dreamy, whimsical tone is followed by “Obsolete,” a melancholic and elegant slow-burn where swelling strings meet deep synth rumble. The emotional payoff at the end—dark, rich, glowing with synth depth—is one of the album’s most powerful moments.

But the album’s centerpiece is “Ethereal Connection,” the boldest and most transformative track Tame Impala has released in years. Built on a foundation of minimal house patterns, it slowly evolves into a hypnotic, pulsating trance piece that feels simultaneously spiritual and bodily. It’s immersive, euphoric, and meditative—pure escapism wrapped in Parker’s meticulous production.

The final act of Deadbeat feels like a gentle exhale.
“See You On Monday (You’re Lost)” brings quirky 80s synth energy but remains more of a breezy detour than a standout.
“Afterthought” reintroduces a funkier groove, full of playful sparkles of laser-like synths and Parker’s clearest, most effortless vocals.
Finally, “End of Summer” closes the album with bittersweet, soft-glowing serenity—deep house drums, blurred vocal harmonies, warm pads, and a “sun setting behind your eyelids” atmosphere that lingers after the final note.

Deadbeat isn’t Tame Impala’s flashiest or most immediately iconic album—but it might be his most emotionally mature and texturally focused. Less explosive than Currents, less technicolor than Lonerism, and more intimate than either, it’s an album built from subtle details, late-night reflections, and electronic warmth. These songs don’t chase the high—they drift, shimmer, and slowly take root.

A dreamy, hypnotic electronic chapter in Tame Impala’s evolution—perfect for fans who love when Kevin Parker trades guitars for synths and lets the mood do the talking.