I had anxiously awaited Deadbeat for months, so when it dropped at 11 p.m. on October 17, I was ready. Headphones on, lights off,  the first seconds of “My Old Ways” filled the room. Tight drums, stripped-down synths, and that unmistakable Kevin Parker clarity. It was instantly different. The dreamy fog of Currents and The Slow Rush was gone; this was sharper, cleaner, more deliberate.

“Dracula” sealed it for me: that slick, looping groove and moody bassline felt like Tame Impala’s version of nightlife. “Oblivion” is chaos done right — distorted synths hitting like static but somehow staying catchy. Then “Loser” comes along, smooth and self-aware, a song that doesn’t beg to be liked but rewards a few replays.

It’s weird watching people online say they can’t connect with Deadbeat. I get it — this album doesn’t give you the same euphoric swirl as Alter Ego (my personal favorite) or Breathe Deeper. It’s more minimal, more precise. Parker traded the cosmic soundscapes for something that moves with intent. But that’s what I adore about the album — he’s not recycling the same sound to please old fans; he’s building something new from scratch.

That shift says a lot about where he’s at and maybe where his listeners are, too. Deadbeat isn’t trying to be the next “psychedelic masterpiece.” It’s the sound of someone who’s already proven his point and now just wants to see how far he can stretch it. It’s strange, mature, and still unmistakably Tame Impala.