A few days ago, Lincoln Hall was buzzing with anticipation of Australia’s highly acclaimed psych-rock group, Tame Impala. The chatter of how “nobody has made music like this in years” filled the venue and came from the old and young that had gathered there. It was almost too much. During Yuck’s very strong opening performance, where pop melodies, catchy hooks and growling, grungy guitar mixed wonderfully, the band gave a shout-out to the Smith Westerns, calling them Chicago’s version of the Beatles. Instantly, a crowd member disagreed, calling Tame Impala Chicago’s Beatles. While that is likely an exaggeration, it definitely conveyed a message of how much this town has a crush on the Perth quartet. And they didn’t disappoint (for the record, Chicago was the only city in North America where Impala played twice).
As they calmly walked on stage, they looked an odd bunch. I counted no less than 20 bare toes between them as they imported an Aussie aura to town. They wasted no time in establishing their distinct mood and demonstrating their talent. As their hit “Solitude is Bliss” came on, drummer Jay Watson was tight and enthusiastic (as he was throughout the performance) and front-man Kevin Parker instantly set an intense atmosphere in the Hall. Finally, the special marriage of mood, substance, and songwriting Chicago had been waiting for had arrived.
With Tame Impala, the Beatles parallels are inescapable: the Höfner bass, Sgt. Peppers feel and Parker’s almost uncanny vocal resemblance to John Lennon. Following “Expectation”, the group entered a darker transition with clear echoes to “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”. An audio-visual guitar solo followed where Parker sat on his knees watching a projector visually react to his instrument. Heavy indeed.
With songs like “Jeremy’s Storm” and “Lucidity”, the band displayed intensity, presence, and talent that doesn’t appear too often. Delayed guitar, a strong rhythm section and created a mood and enhanced the strong songwriting. They balanced catchy hooks with psychedelic breaks and had the crowd in awe – and this despite bassist Nick Albrook rarely having more than a foot of space between his seemingly glued together knees (he, puzzlingly, remained in pre-pee position most the show).
The crush on Tame Impala, it turns out, is mutual. The band played their first ever American show in Chicago and were charming as they told the crowd of their favorite haunts and attractions (a vending machine in a nearby hotel). Unfortunately though, this was not enough to improve the only negative of the show that evening, the crowd. Given the strong performance, presence and charisma of the Aussies, it was Chicago that seemed tame – pity for a band that definitely deserved a wilder welcome.
That aside, the show was a success. The band opted to replace the artificial encore institution with a long, thorough, and intense gig. This didn’t seem to bother anyone as most left Lincoln Hall with a smug look on their face. Whether it was to witness the beginning of this promising group’s career or to rock out like they did years ago, fans walked away from a show that managed, like few do, to live up to the hype.
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[Originally posted for The Heard Project. View the original here.]
