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Tag: Tame Impala music videos

  • 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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  • Tame Impala Speaks on Night People With “Dracula”

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    In Mark Ronson’s memoir, Night People, the quote he uses for the introduction of the book is as follows: “The night is on your mind/Ayo, the sun’ll still shine/But now the night is on the mind.” Taken from A Tribe Called Quest’s 1993 track, “Midnight,” it’s a verse that also very much applies to Tame Impala’s latest single from Deadbeat (following “End of Summer” and “Loser”), “Dracula.” The evocative title of course referring to being a creature of the night (for vampires, as everyone knows, despise the day—after all, it literally kills them). And obviously one that abhors daylight. Or, at the very least, doesn’t get along half as well with it.

    To convey that motif in the accompanying video for “Dracula,” directed by Julian Klincewicz, Tame Impala (a.k.a. Kevin Parker) sets the stage at a house party in the middle of nowhere (a setting he’s quite familiar with considering he grew up, for a time, in Western Australia’s Kalgoorlie). Except, rather than partying inside the house like semi-“civilized” people, these ghoulish creatures move about in an almost zombie-like (rather than vampire-like) fashion outside the abandoned/spooky-looking abode (given the added “deadbeat” touch of being outfitted with a string of colored Christmas lights on the exterior).

    Before the viewer is given a chance to fully take in the non-splendor of the house, however, Tame Impala, in the opening scene, emerges as though out of thin air, cutting through the night like the very vampire the song is named after. This done as a trippy, almost incantation-like series of “oh-oh-oh-ohs” are let out before the expectedly infectious beat drops. A beat, as Tame Impala, described to Zane Lowe, that heavily evolved in that it “started in this really raw, minimal way and then just sort of like slowly expanded into this sort of like pop, you know…” Parker further added, as though to emphasize he’s but a vessel for “the muse,” “I just give the song what it wants. I feel like that one just…wanted to be like a Max Martin song.” And yes, it’s probably the most “Max Martin-y” that Tame Impala will ever get.

    In any case, as he continues to walk through the deserted landscape, all at once, a semi-truck appears behind Tame Impala to follow him into the enclosure, as it were, and soon he’s strutting into the area like a rooster (especially with his “groovy” neck moves while walking). With the dominant pheromones to back up that comparison. The opening verse then heightens the establishment of the feeling that these are night people, with Tame Impala singing, “The morning light is turning blue, the feeling is bizarre/The night is almost over, I still don’t know where you are/The shadows, yeah, they keep me pretty like a movie star/Daylight makes me feel like Dracula.”

    In other words, nighttime is the right time, particularly for continuing to fool people into thinking you’re attractive (further assisted by the intake of drugs and alcohol). Even though Dua Lipa’s “Illusion” (which Parker co-produced with Danny L Harle) rightly brings up the fact that most girls are well-aware they’re dancing with a, let’s say, false presentation at this time of night, as manifest in her lyrics, “I really like the way you’re movin’/Yeah, I just wanna dance with the illusion.” And daylight is the one major thing that can really shatter the illusion—break the spell. Or trance, if you will.

    As he serves some very Kesha “the party don’t start till I walk in” vibes, the scene switches to black and white before being suffused with color again, with Klincewicz homing in on a pregnant woman as one of the many random-ass people who happen to be at this gathering. An image that solidifies the notion that not only does the nighttime always seem to bring an “eclectic mix” of people together, but also that once you are a night person, you never really let that go…no matter what your circumstances in life are. Married, pregnant, “old”—it don’t matter. Your commitment remains forever to the night.

    With the video continuing to alternate between shots in color and black and white, Klincewicz lends an added sense that there is a line between “two worlds”—day and night—being tenuously toed. As for the desolate landscape, Parker cited Western Australia’s rave scene as one of the track’s inspirations (because, again, if anyone knows about that Western Australia life, it’s Parker). And this very much comes across in the isolated, remote tableau provided by the video. Along with the cult-like “circle dances” occasionally shown via overhead shots that convey a message about how “The Night” really is a religion for some people (see also: Charli XCX—side note: frequent Charli collaborator Imogene Strauss acted as the creative director for this video).

    Throughout the strangeness-radiating “party,” Tame Impala appears to be in search of something—or someone—he has yet to find. An image that speaks to the romantic aspect of the song, which is that he’s looking for “his person,” his fellow creature of the night to depart with. Ergo, the lyrics, “In the end, I hope it’s you and me/In the darkness, I would never leave you.” That “in the end” part referring to the moment when the night really is over and you’re theoretically supposed to go “home” (or whatever ramshackle you’re currently squatting in) with someone. Unless, of course, you really are a vampire and truly only can be with someone else in the darkness (thus, Tame Impala warning, “Won’t ever see me in the light of day/It’s far too late, the time has come”—for him to enter his proverbial coffin bed).  

    As the sun starts to come up at this rave-y party, Tame Impala acts as the “cult leader” figure, leading them all away from this place (a pied piper of keeping the good times [literally] rolling) with the house rigged up on the back of the semi-truck like it’s no big deal. Clearly, they’re migrating elsewhere, maybe to a place where it’s still night (after all, “portal jumping” seems totally plausible within this video’s universe).

    While the stumbling/dancing rag-tag crew follows behind Tame Impala and his truck, the lines, “Run from the sun like Dracula” repeat. And it’s an urging that could just as well possess the subtext, “Run from responsibility at all costs.” Stay a creature of the night—someone who can never be swayed or controlled by the “laws” of the day. A message that feels especially valid on an album called Deadbeat.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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