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Tag: Sam Kristofski

  • Tame Impala Experiences a Coastal Bifurcation in “My Old Ways” Video

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    “I thrive on [isolation] because it’s extremely recharging for me.” This is what Kevin Parker explains to Zane Lowe when speaking on his “anathema” need to be alone. To work and to think in total isolation. This “phenomenon” being the type of shit the absolutely terrifies most people. Mainly because most people are too afraid to “be alone with themselves” and dare to find out “what’s inside” if left without the proverbial noise of others for too long. But what Parker is saying is a common motif among artists, and especially solo musicians. Case in point, Marina Diamandis and Lorde, who have both spoken on their need to retreat from the world for a long period of time (for Lorde, that period usually amounts to four years) after enduring the promo and touring aspect of putting out a record.

    As for Parker, the need for isolation isn’t just about recharging, but having enough silence (ergo, enough peace) to ruminate and “catch” an idea. This is why Parker is constantly searching for and renting out Airbnbs wherever he can find them along the coastline, telling Lowe, “I find where there are places as close to the water as you can get. I want to be fucking right there.” This not only to pick up on the “white noise” of nature, but also because, as he puts it, “Staring out at the abyss, especially at nighttime or, like, at the end of the day, staring at the ocean, for me, is just, um, it helps me get lost and it just, there’s a tranquility that comes along with it, and an inspiration.” In other words, it puts one’s own insignificance into perspective. As it does, by the same token, to be milling around aimlessly in New York City.

    This being one of the primary (and symbolic) locations that Parker is featured in for the latest single and video from Deadbeat, “My Old Ways” (which just so happens to be the album’s “kickoff” track). Teaming again with Sam Kristofski (who also directed the “Loser” video), the video starts out in the studio, where Parker is, once more, in isolation mode. The studio setting is also a factor at the beginning of the video because, for the first minute of the song, there is a “made in the bedroom,” “analogue” quality to the intro: “So here I am once again, feel no good/I must be out of excuses, I knew I would/Feels like it came out of nowhere this time/Wish I had someone else to blame/I tell myself I’m only human/I know I, I said never again/Temptation feels like it never ends/I’m sliding, powerless as I descend.” This being the portion that Parker left “unvarnished” in its original iPhone recording incarnation before presenting the “polished” side of it once the beat drops just after the one-minute mark.

    Throughout this buildup, gradually intercut images of the cityscape begin to appear. And then, at another point, a flash to a sticky note in the studio that reads, “Am I still on?” The question, of course, has a double meaning within the context, and there’s no doubt that some part of Parker is wondering if he himself is still “on” in the sense of maintaining his “gift” for making music of the same caliber as Currents and The Slow Rush. With Deadbeat, and especially “My Old Ways,” Tame Impala proves that he certainly has maintained it, even if that gift comes with its fair share of torture. Not least of which is having to be around any large amount of people for more than, say, thirty minutes. For the artistic, introverted soul, that’s nothing short of torture. Which is why, in many regards, it’s quite ironic that so many artists flock to New York, world capital of getting caught in a clusterfuck. Just as Parker does while walking amongst the crowds near 54th Street in what can best be described as his “Brooklyn attire.” Indeed, Parker stands out less for being “famous” in this Manhattan environment than he does for being dressed either for North Brooklyn circa 2012 or somewhere in New Mexico.

    Walking the streets as though in a fugue state, Tame Impala sings, “Thought I would never go back, but just this once/A little present for holding out so long/I could not bear the thought of it two days ago/Don’t think I would forgive myself/I tell myself I’m only human/I know I, I said never again/Temptation feels like it never ends.” Such lyrics, of course, allow for a literal interpretation to “My Old Ways” in that it can clearly serve as an addict’s anthem. Whether the addiction is alcohol, especially “illicit” drugs, sex (think: Madonna’s auditory and visual rendering of Looking for Mr. Goodbar in the form of “Bad Girl”) or anything “taboo” in between. But it also works in the sense of a person who returns to behavior that they know is more insidiously—rather than overtly—bad for them. Sort of like Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker, no relation to Kevin) musing at the end of Sex and the City’s “The Fuck Buddy” episode, “And just like that, I was thrown right back into my old pattern: greasy Chinese, sleeping till noon and feeling…restless.” This would be the perfect moment to cue “My Old Ways” as the credits roll. Particularly since Parker saw fit to set some of the video in Bradshaw’s beloved NYC.

    However, at around the two-minute, twenty-six-second mark, Tame Impala essentially enters a “portal” (it’s just a door, but still) to another, sunnier coast. More specifically, the Margaret River area in Parker’s native Australia. Even though one would have liked to believe the location was California, seeing as how there would be a poetry to it. What with Parker having “officially” started the Deadbeat album while staying at one of his near-the-ocean Airbnbs in Montecito (that’s Santa Barbara, for the unversed). This tying back to what he told Lowe about being proper “obsessed” with the ocean. And also to the fact that, ultimately, his “old ways” are retreating into isolation when he’s spent far too much time in a place like New York. Oversaturated—sodden—with people as it is. And no ocean to speak of unless you’re really willing to schlep.

    So it is that this sunnier coastal environment, as per the video’s delineation, is working out for him and his creative process far better than it seemed to be in such a heavily populated area without a readily available body of water (and no, “the Lake” of Central Park doesn’t really count). Kristofski’s subsequent rapidly intercut scenes of Parker sitting in contemplation inside his rather posh-looking “glass house,” or standing in front of the ocean with his arms outstretched as though summoning something (maybe the muse?), or a swoon-worthy sunset, or his painted phonograph all serve to create a kind of sensory overload. Thus, a kind of glimpse not only into Parker’s mind as he creates, but also into the mind of someone about to surrender to the temptation of returning to their “old ways.”

    For Parker, the best kind of “old ways” for him to retreat into are those that find him in total isolation. Hence, ending the video with him sitting inside a cave-like rock with nothing but his musical accoutrements. While some might call such a way of life “unhealthy,” for Parker (and all those who have been affected by his music), it’s the only way to live. That is, when he’s not promoting an album with interviews and tours…

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Like Beck Before Him, Tame Impala Embraces Being a “Loser” (With “Steve Harrington” Standing in for His Role)

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    As Tame Impala continues to give his listeners a taste of the next album to come, “Loser” serves as the second single to follow “End of Summer.” And, in contrast to the latter, there’s less “jubilant bittersweetness” to the track, and instead more of a resigned hopelessness. Indeed, very much in the spirit of Beck’s seminal 1993 “anti-hit,” “Loser,” which went on to become a Gen X anthem (and, not to worry, Tame Impala is aware of his reference, further solidified by Beck making a cameo in his “Loser” video).

    Since Tame Impala is representative of the millennial generation, perhaps he’s decided to offer them up their own somewhat belated anthem, now that it’s crystal clear they won’t be holding down steady jobs or buying houses in this lifetime. Or maybe it’s just that Kevin Parker is still stuck in the mindset that he’s a “loser” by sheer non-virtue of being a musician. After all, Parker’s father, Jerry, had drilled it into his head that making a career out of music wasn’t a viable option. Not just because the likelihood of it happening in a way that could regularly pay the bills was improbable, but because, “If you do music as your job, as the thing that puts food on the table, then it will instantly ruin its magic, it won’t be mysterious and fun anymore, it would just be like work.”

    And so, Parker tried his hand at playing it straight for a while, attending university and majoring in engineering. At some point during his tenure, he decided to somewhat rock the boat/say “fuck you” to convention by majoring in astronomy. A decision on which he commented, “I knew that I would be poor and I just wanted to do whatever was fun.” Spoken like a true so-called loser. Or, at least, the definition of a loser that society ingrains within people who couldn’t care less about being rich. Granted, some of the less desirable loser qualities—such as being an unkempt dick—are present in the Sam Kristofski-directed video (shot in the same cinematic widescreen aspect ratio as “End of Summer”), with Joe Keery a.k.a. Steve Harrington (in truth, there’s a lot of Steve during his Scoops Ahoy employee era emanating from this particular “loser”) playing the stand-in for Parker.

    To be sure, Parker must have hand-picked Keery to play him because, from the back, the two look practically identical (it’s the hair, obviously). However, Keery’s voice gives him away as “not Parker” while he chases after the girlfriend he’s clearly just insulted. As she glares at him and indicates that he better get his hands off her fucking Benz, it’s apparent that this relationship is really all he has going for him. So when she drives away, it’s easy to see that “Djo,” as the “character” is called (a nod to Keery’s Instagram handle), feels as though he’s lost the one thing (women always being seen as “things” to men) that at least sort of made him feel like a winner. But with no “dame” to prop him up now, Djo is left to walk to the convenience store (though some call it a grocery store) on his own—with Bob’s Market in Echo Park getting plenty of screen time (and yes, it feels pointed for the video to be set in Echo Park when taking into account that plenty of loser musicians live there).

    But before walking into the shop, Djo is met with a dirty, judgmental look from a cop. Even though briefly fazed by it, he still goes in to collect what he came for: a beer. The drink not of champions, but losers. So it is that, as he pulls one out of the fridge (at least it’s in a “classy” bottle, not a can), the chorus declares, “I’m a loser, babe/Do you wanna tear my heart out?/I’m a tragedy/Tryin’ to figure this whole mess out.”

    And the perfect place, apparently, to figure said mess out is at Bob’s Market. Since, instead of leaving with his beer, Djo just sits outside drinking it—still there by the time night falls. Because, really, where else has a loser got to be? Although mostly staring into space (perhaps such a loser that he doesn’t even have a phone to occupy his blank gaze), Djo clocks a scratch-off ticket lying on the ground and unabashedly picks it up so that he can scratch it with his nail—not even a goddamn penny or something (further proof that loserdom is, in this world, automatically associated with being penniless). Which is why it’s so appropriate that the lyrics, “Desperate times call for dеsperate measurеs” play right at this instant.

    Having no luck with the ticket (quelle surprise), Djo continues to visibly spiral, which makes for the perfect time to introduce the song’s dreamy bridge: “I leave alone and/Dark streets I roam in/Night air, I breathe in/The stars I believe in [again, he majored in astronomy]/I don’t know why I didn’t fight it/I probably tried and magnified it/I cannot lie, I feel defeated/Take it as a sign, you’re badly needed/You’re badly needed/Badly wanted [a woman always being “salvation” to Parker].” During the final scenes of the video during which these lyrics punctuate the bleakness of the moment, a car containing a couple pulls up to the market. The guy in the couple gets out of the car while the woman remains in the front seat smoking a cigarette. As she waits for him to get back, she locks eyes briefly with Djo, flashing him a decided “you’re a loser” look before tossing her cig out the window.

    When their car pulls out, Djo shamelessly picks up what’s left of the cigarette and smokes it (smoking now being a sign o’ the retro times), turning around to see a little boy also looking at him like he can’t believe what a loser Djo is. After receiving the child’s disgusted appraisal, he continues to sit on the sidewalk. Then there’s a few seconds where, after a passerby breaks the viewer’s sight of Djo, we see Parker himself sitting in the same place—same outfit and, of course, same haircut (or lack thereof). And while Parker is still in the “loser” role, we hear the simple outro of the song, whispered like a sigh: “Fuck.”

    Another passerby then breaks the view to bring it back to Djo sitting there looking all forlorn and hopeless in the world. And, just when one thinks there really is no hope for this loser, his face lights up and he smiles at someone in the distance. Presumably, the girlfriend who had abandoned him at the outset of this whole sad affair. Looking at her like a revelation, Parker seeks to prove that, yes, it’s true: god is a woman. Especially in the life of a loser douche who ought to realize no one else is lining up to get with him.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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