Kevin Parker ushered in a new era for Tame Impala with the dance track 'End of Summer'. A sprawling seven-minute new dance tune, inspired by 1989’s acid house explosion, the song also marks the musician’s first release Sony Music’s Columbia Records. It comes after Parker sold his past and future music catalogue to Sony Music in May last year.
So with a new Tame Impala album looking to be just around the corner. I thought I'd revisit his discography and give you my Top 10 songs.
An effort from 'The Slow Rush' and Kevin Parker embracing his pop side more than ever, whilst reflecting on the power of nostalgia. Worried that he may be losing his mojo. Parker fretting openly about continued relevance. “You ain’t as cool as you used to be,” Parker smiles wryly at himself on It Might Be Time.
This self deprication, is not needed though, before the release of this album Parker, had become a voguish producer adored by hip-hop titans – from Kanye West to A$AP Rocky– and pop heavyweights such as Lady Gaga (he co-wrote some of her rootsy 2016 album ‘Joanne’). His horizons have broadened beyond a home-studio in Melbourne – he’s now in the thick of LA’s music scene.
Another standout from 'The Slow Rush', this track is a masterclass in musical evolution a true flex from Kevin Parker. It blends shimmering, radio-ready pop with deep introspection, capturing the emotional weight of nostalgia without being bogged down by it. The last thing Tame Impala wanted to do was get 'Lost in Yesterday', and this song is a deliberate push forward both sonically and thematically.
It’s Parker at his most emotionally transparent, yet he frames that vulnerability in anthemic choruses and sleek production. He has a rare gift for making songs feel airy and almost weightless, while still landing with the melodic impact of a pop hit. His musicianship and songwriting throughout 'The Slow Rush' and especially on this track represent some of the most refined and affecting work of his career.
Patience doesn't fit onto a Tame Impala record, released as a standalone single in 2019, it marked the bridge between 'Currents' and 'The Slow Rush'. ‘Patience’ combines the distinctive vocals which first featured in Innerspeaker with Lonerism‘s distorted sounds and the poppy feel of Currents, to create a track which is Impala’s most disco to date. The easy piano refrain, flourishes of guitar and light beats make you want to groove along.
The song also made reference to the long gap between music. Opening with “Has it really been that long, did I count the days wrong?". At the time of it's release in 2019 it was a welcome return, and saw a pop centric sound to Tame Impala. Lyrically the song addressed themes that would become central to 'The Slow Rush' in particular the passing of time. It's one of Parker's most personal songs to date.
Before Kevin Parker became the saviour of modern guitar music and the pop star’s favourite pop star he was crafting some of the most vivid psychedelic rock since the late 1960s. Long before 'The Slow Rush' and 'Currents', there was 'Innerspeaker', a debut album that felt like it had emerged from a time capsule. One review noted: "Tame Impala hail from Perth, which boasts of being the most isolated city in the world. 'Innerspeaker' suggests it's so isolated, in fact, that no new music has reached it since 1969: it's a perfect recreation of the point in English music just before psychedelia tipped over into heavy rock." Rolling Stone added, “Imagine if the Beatles made a psychedelic album on grass and MDMA instead of LSD, with Tony Iommi on guitar.”
One of the standout tracks, 'Alter Ego', is a perfect example of Parker’s early genius. It doesn’t feel like imitation it’s more like translation. Parker balances the influence of ’60s and ’70s psychedelia with a modern pulse that firmly roots the album in 2010. Swirling guitar lines and phaser-soaked textures meet propulsive drums and hypnotic bass grooves, creating a sound that feels timeless but never dated. The track captures a mood of internal conflict, with lyrics that hint at identity, change, and the passage of time early signs of the themes Parker would return to throughout his career. There’s a dreamy detachment to his vocal delivery, almost as if he's observing himself from a distance, perfectly mirroring the song’s title and concept.
Over a decade later, it remains a fan favourite and a key turning point in the Tame Impala sonic universe.
‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ is one of Tame Impala’s most iconic and emotionally resonant tracks a slow-motion heartbreak disguised as a swirling pop song. Built around a simple, looping piano motif and woozy, dreamlike production, the track feels like a desperate plea for clarity that’s being transmitted into the cosmos hoping some distant lifeformor maybe just a past version of yourself will understand. The melody spirals outward in slow, melancholic circles, like a distress signal adrift in space.
Parker’s voice on this track is hauntingly fragile, like a very sad mythological creatureancient, wise, and quietly devastated. It never tips into self-pity or melodrama; instead, there’s a purity in his delivery that draws genuine sympathy from the listener. His vocals, soaked in reverb and regret, give the impression of someone trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping away. It's a rare kind of emotional alchemy deeply personal yet universally relatable.
The brilliance of ‘Feels Like We Only Go Backwards’ lies in its restraint. There’s no massive climax, no dramatic shift just a sense of slow, inevitable drift. It captures that all-too-familiar feeling of emotional inertia, when every attempt to move forward just circles you back to the same place. It’s psychedelic not just in sound but in sentiment fragmented, hypnotic, and achingly human. A song that lingers long after it ends, like an echo from another dimension.
Tame Impala's second album 'Lonerism' is a psychedelic masterpieces that embraces the great psychedelic moments of the past to create a luscious floaty ode to solitary life. One key influence on the record is The Beatles. Many artists have used the 'Fab Four' as references. However Kevin Parker has homed in one one moment in The Beatles career. ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’ from the 1966 album 'Revolver' a song that has become a cornerstone in music history.
It’s the song that The Chemical Brothers ended DJ sets with. It’s the one Oasis referenced on ‘Morning Glory’ (“Another sunny afternoon/Walking to the sound of my favourite tune/Tomorrow never knows what it doesn’t know too soon“). And it’s the one on which John Lennon turned on, tuned in and dropped out, envisioning vocals that sound like “thousands of monks chanting” and unleashing his inner astral traveller.
One of the albums standout moments is 'Why Won't They Talk to Me? a song that immerses the listener, in a lush dreamlike atmosphere, that juxtaposes he feelings of loneliness. The songs soundscape feels both expansive and intimate, that reflects how loneliness can often feel. Being surrounded by the world and people, and yet feeling alone and isolated. Parker’s production choices reinforce this paradox, blending warm, inviting melodies with distant, echoing vocals, as if the singer is calling out into the void.
At its core, ‘Why Won’t They Talk to Me?’ is a raw exploration of social alienation. The lyrics are simple yet deeply effective in conveying the pain of feeling unnoticed and unacknowledged. There’s a certain irony in Parker’s delivery; his vocals carry a sense of resigned acceptance rather than outright despair. This suggests a complex emotional state yearning for connection but also grappling with the idea that maybe solitude is an inevitable part of life.
The song presents isolation and loneliness in it's most personal form. This theme is littered throughout the record but on this song it is at it's most prominent. There’s an underlying tension throughout the track, with the muted drums and distant vocals creating a sense of vulnerability. Yet, there’s also a dreaminess to the sound, as if the narrator is floating in their own head, unable to break free from their feelings of isolation.
The first but certainly not the last track from 'Currents' to make an impression, this song marks a clear turning point in Kevin Parker’s artistic evolution. With 'Currents', Parker didn’t just move forward he rewired the very DNA of Tame Impala. Gone were the fuzzy guitar-driven jams of 'Innerspeaker' and 'Lonerism', replaced by sleek synths, pulsing basslines, and a newfound obsession with rhythm and space. Psychedelia wasn’t abandoned it was reimagined.
‘Eventually’ stands as one of the most emotionally devastating moments on 'Currents', a heartbreak anthem that feels both intimate and cinematic. While Parker has never explicitly confirmed it, many fans and critics have speculated that the song is about his breakup with Melody Prochet of Melody’s Echo Chamber a personal rupture that seems to echo throughout the album. If that’s the case, ‘Eventually’ is less a bitter goodbye than a painful act of emotional honesty, the sound of someone trying to do the right thing, even if it hurts the,.
Musically, it begins with a flurry of distorted guitar chords that seem to reach out in desperation, before abruptly shifting gears into a glossy synth-pop landscape. That sharp transition mirrors the emotional duality at the heart of the song grief and resolve, guilt and clarity. The lyrics are brutal in their honesty: "But I know that I'll be happier / And I know you will too." It’s a break-up song without blame, filled with resignation rather than resentment.
Parker’s production here is immaculate. The synths are lush but restrained, the drums punchy yet spacious, and his vocals are drenched in reverb, giving them a ghostly, almost detached quality. The contrast between the track’s polished surface and its raw emotional core is striking. ‘Eventually’ is not just a standout on 'Currents', it’s one of Parker’s most powerful songs.
If 'Innerspeaker' introduced Tame Impala to the world, then 'Lonerism' was their first true masterpiece. It’s an album packed with standout tracks waves of colour and sound colliding with Kevin Parker’s increasingly sharp songwriting but ‘Music to Walk Home By’ has always stood out as something truly singular. It doesn’t sound like anything else on the record or anything else Tame Impala has made before or since.
Built around a rhythmic, stuttering synth loop and a tumbling drum pattern, the track feels like it's in constant motion, both physically and emotionally. There’s a clear debt to Todd Rundgren’s early ’70s output particularly The Nazz and Utopia in its fusion of progressive rock ambition with psychedelic pop charm. But unlike the guitar-forward psych-rock that dominated 'Innerspeaker', this song leans heavily on keyboards, layered textures, and intricate melodic shifts. It’s not rock in the traditional sense, but it still hits with the weight of a riff-heavy anthem by the time it reaches its hypnotic fade-out.
Lyrically, Parker sounds caught between isolation and euphoria, frustration and possibility. His voice floats just above the instrumental, drenched in effects but still achingly human. The song’s title is perfect—this really does feel like music for introspective walks, a soundtrack for thinking too much, too fast, while the world rushes past in slow motion. It's one of the deepest cuts on 'Lonerism', but for many fans, it’s a hidden gem that captures the strange magic of the album better than anything else.
‘The Less I Know the Better’ – jokingly dismissed by Kevin Parker in a recent interview as “dorky white disco-funk” – is, ironically, the song that made him a global name. Stepping out on a crystalline groove that’s equal parts Hall & Oates and MJ’s ‘Thriller’, the track is unapologetically slick, funky, and infectious. Its bassline alone is iconic instantly recognisable, endlessly replayable and it's the kind of hook that made even the most skeptical psych-rock purists admit that Parker had something far bigger in his hands.
This wasn’t just another Tame Impala track it was Parker’s first true crossover moment. The underground hero of modern guitar music suddenly found himself on dance floors, festival main stages, and pop playlists. With ‘The Less I Know the Better’, he didn’t just flirt with pop he conquered it, while barely compromising his singular vision. The production is meticulous: dreamy falsetto vocals float over rubbery basslines, phased guitars shimmer in the background, and the chorus hits with the kind of melancholic euphoria that’s become Parker’s signature.
Lyrically, it’s classic Tame Impala heartbreak obsessive, surreal, and tinged with resignation but wrapped in such a tight, glossy package that you almost miss how gutting it is. The line “She said, ‘It’s not now or never / Wait ten years, we’ll be together’” feels both absurd and crushing, like a memory warped by time and repetition. By the time the final chorus hits, you’re dancing through the pain just like Parker intended.
With this track, Kevin Parker was no longer just the saviour of modern guitar music—he was a bona fide pop star. The proof? Over 2 billion streams on Spotify alone, making it not just Tame Impala’s most popular song by a mile, but one of the defining indie-pop anthems of the 2010s. Psychedelia, it turns out, had mainstream legs after all.
Topping the list is ‘Let It Happen’, the monumental opener to 'Currents' and arguably the most ambitious song Kevin Parker has ever written. Clocking in at nearly eight minutes, it’s a sprawling, transcendent journey through shifting soundscapes, genre-defying production, and existential acceptance. From the opening synth pulses to the looped vocal glitches and kaleidoscopic breakdowns, the track is an odyssey—a sonic manifestation of surrender.
Thematically, it captures the central message of 'Currents': embracing change rather than resisting it. Parker voices this internal struggle in the line, “It’s all around me, this noise, but / Not nearly as loud as the voice saying / ‘Let it happen, let it happen.’” It's the sound of someone stepping into the unknown, choosing evolution over comfort. And the music mirrors that emotional arc perfectly. The track morphs constantly—starting with zen-like disco rhythms, drifting into Daft Punk-style robot croons, then collapsing into glitchy loops before rebuilding itself into something even more euphor
Musically, ‘Let It Happen’ is overflowing with Parker’s trademark production wizardry: from the tightly marshalled bursts of guitar that erupt out of nowhere, to the lush synth layers and pounding basslines that wouldn’t be out of place in a club setting. There are echoes of French house, psych-rock, synth-pop, even R&B but it’s all filtered through Parker’s singular lens. It’s danceable and cerebral, intimate and massive all at once.
This was the moment where everything changed. ‘Let It Happen’ wasn’t just a song—it was a statement. Kevin Parker was no longer confined to being the poster boy for modern psych-rock; this was the sound of an artist evolving in real time, stepping confidently into pop’s future without losing the depth and detail that made his early work so beloved. It set the tone for 'Currents' and, in many ways, the rest of Tame Impala’s career.
Ten years from now, it will still sound like the future.