The downside of widespread commercial success is that, of the millions of eyes on you, some of them are bound to be glaring: it’s simply impossible to please everyone, especially given how varied and segmented tastes can be in the modern age of streaming. With that in mind, Tame Impala’s detractors have always been a particularly scarce minority, as both your diehard indie fans and your casual synth-pop enjoyers have come together to praise records like 2015’s ‘Currents’ and 2020’s ‘The Slow Rush.’ It’s now, in 2025, that this glow of positivity that’s always surrounded Kevin Parker is beginning to fade— ‘Deadbeat’ seems to have been unanimously deemed the weakest Tame Impala record to date, and we’re not here to disagree.

Parker has always had his eccentricities, and everyone has always seemed to love them: in the past, old-school vocal production and quirky lyrical choices became staples of the Tame Impala sound, driving a song like ‘The Less I Know The Better’ to such extraordinary heights. These aspects are not the crippling flaws that drag ‘Deadbeat’ down, despite what the internet may have told you— rather, it’s the way they’ve been implemented that leaves a lot to be desired. This is Parker’s most stripped-back album, discarding any semblance of psychedelia for a style that, in places, has more in common with house music. Take a peek at ‘No Reply,’ on which the Australian leaves himself nowhere to hide as his vocals sit atop an absolutely barren arrangement of ambient synths and monotonous drum loops: the greatest sin ‘Deadbeat’ commits is how utterly dull so many of its tunes can be.

A staggering number of songs here feel barely half-finished, as if they were meant to be overhauled down the line: it’s been five years since ‘The Slow Rush,’ though we have very little to show for it. ‘Oblivion’ pulls out all the stops to kill reggaeton, grinding its singular drum loop into dust— look elsewhere in the song and you’ll find naught but dreary vocal croonings and synth lines pulled straight from the WiiFit loading screen. Any and all attempts Parker makes to set a mood go awry, whether that be on the complete nothingburger ‘Not My World’ or the pointlessly extended ‘Ethereal Connection.’ Oftentimes, the stylish bass lines and efficient writing that used to define Tame Impala releases seems like a distant memory. In their place is the sluggish pacing of ‘See You On Monday (You’re Lost)’ and the altogether forgettable romance of ‘Piece Of Heaven.’ Honestly, little more needs to be said on these tracks: comparing them side by side against Parker’s best work feels almost cruel.

‘Deadbeat’ does not reach the heights of its predecessors, though it isn’t without some charm either: even if its best moments feels like pale imitations of what’s come before, this is still Tame Impala we’re talking about. Single ‘Dracula’ has only grown on us with every listen, demonstrating that this more stripped-back approach does have some potential— the song is sharp and snappy, melding synth parts, bass hits and guitar lines that all feel scientifically engineered to get stuck in your head. Parker’s knack for effective writing flares back to life on the smoothly produced ‘Obsolete’ and the would-be dance floor-filler ‘Afterthought:’ neither track is particularly ambitious, but they both succeed by executing on simple ideas. Even the instrumental loops of ‘My Old Ways’ and ‘Loser’ have a certain appeal to them, though both feel squandered in context— the Tame Impala sound is alive in 2025, but could probably do with a spot of TLC.

Ask anyone about ‘’Deadbeat,’ though, and they probably won’t be singing the praises of these charming moments: some of the record’s worst moments are so ill-considered, they feel like a sick joke is being played on us. Parker may be a father, but that doesn’t excuse just how out-of-touch so many of his lyrical quips can be— how a line like “you’re a cinephile, I watch Family Guy” made it to the final release is honestly baffling. Passages of that kind aren’t necessarily dreadful because they’re packed with references, mind you: the problem is two-fold, with the bizarre placement of many such lines only covering one side of the coin. On ‘Deadbeat,’ more than ever, Tame Impala stands for nothing. There are no deep explorations of family or responsibility to be found here, as the cover might suggest: Parker spends the album spinning his wheels, leaving themes like addiction and romance feeling underdeveloped and overly trite.

“I'm on the verge of caving in, I run back to the dark

Now I'm Mr. Charisma, f*cking Pablo Escobar

My friends are saying "shut up, Kevin, just get in the car"

I just wanna be right where you are”

In truth, ‘Deadbeat’ is far from unlistenable: as for why you’d actually want to give it a try, we’re coming up pretty empty. Parker’s talents as a writer, performer and producer all feel wasted on a crop of tracks that will, at most, elicit the odd head-bob— it’s difficult to know why an artist at this level of fame and fortune would want to ‘sell out,’ but it’s even harder to puzzle out how else ‘Deadbeat’ came to be. We are, thank goodness, safe in the knowledge that we can still go back and enjoy an album like ‘Currents’— Tame Impala’s golden age may be behind us.