Three wandering, psychedelic journeys-disguised-as-songs into Tame Impala’s sold-out concert at Benchmark International Arena, with the sonic boom of the bass shaking my molarsand a curtain of rainbow lasers threatening to trigger a small seizure, the shock of the spectacle started wearing off just enough for my brain to remember how to form a question. And all of the sudden, I had many questions.
Like: Should I just move to Australia, home of frontman Kevin Parker? Start taking LSD so that everything looks like this all the time? Invest in a ginormous fog machine, like the one in front of my seat that pumped a steady, mysterious haze for the duration of the band’s jaw-dropping, 2-1/2 hour set?
And also: How has Tame Impala never come to Tampa before?
Turns out, Parker himself was wondering the same thing.
“I can’t believe what we’ve been missing out on,” he said, in between songs, in a speaking voice much deeper and more “G’day mate” than his silky, reverb-drenched falsetto. “I don’t know. But here we are now.”
Parker, accompanied by a powerhouse five-piece touring band, lit up Tampa on Thursday night during his Deadbeat Tour (named for his fifth album, which came out last year.) Djo opened, which makes a lot of sense if you think about it.
Both acts spawned as solo projects helmed by a shaggy-headed dude with a cool moniker. Djo, for example, emerged from actor Joe Keery, who starred as Steve Harrington in Netflix’s “Stranger Things.”
Both artists absorbed enthusiastic waves of new fans after watching tunes go mega-viral on TikTok: For Djo, this was “End of Beginning.” For Tame Impala, the honor could apply to about a third of their setlist, including the spooky-sexy-synthy hit “Dracula,” which even Bryan Cranston has proudly lip-synced.
And before this show, neither artist had ever performed in Tampa, or even anywhere close to the west coast of Florida. Look at us now, though. We got a concert and a new nickname.
“Tampa Impala, right?” Parker asked. “Tampala? Whatever you choose.”
In Rivers Cuomo glasses and dad jeans, Keery got things started. He bopped around the oval-shaped stage at the center of the arena, sometimes strumming a guitar and otherwise just holding a microphone. He used a free hand to wave back at spectators, who rewarded him with guttural fangirl screams.
Keery’s brand of bedroom pop-rock might have been better suited for a more intimate venue, but he and his touring band did their best to fill the space and overcome a muddy audio mix as traffic-weary fans shuffled late into their seats. “Charlie’s Garden,” a Sgt. Pepper-y tune inspired by the actual garden of “Stranger Things” costar Charlie Heaton, emerged as a highlight of the 10-song set.
Sorry to be basic, but Djo’s most popular song was the best one, with the crowd shout-singing “And when I’m back in Chicago” over that wistful, shimmery synth line.
Tame Impala’s whopping 22-song performance was as much a concert as it was a full sensory experience, each track stretched out and honored with a unique laser-light show.
“Eventually” turned into a seismic singalong, everyone roaring “ahhhAHHHHahhhhhhhhh” with glee.
“Let It Happen” got the whole arena bouncing under a sea of purple and orange strobes. Parker stood at the end of the stage, a stoner-turned-maestro in a tree frog T-shirt, conducting the crowd with flailing arms as confetti erupted overhead.
And during “Loser,” Parker went time-traveling, blending 1970s psych-rock with a melody and attitude evoking an early 2000s boy band. I briefly reconsidered my earlier decision to skip the concourse-clogging merch lines. Maybe I and every 20-something in Tampa needed to buy that $50 “Loser” T-shirt after all.
A special shoutout to the camera guy, who chased Parker around the stage to capture cinematic visuals to be projected onto half a dozen floating screens and embellished with trippy filters.
He even stalked Parker during an instrumental version of “No Reply” down a path through howling fans on the floor, away from the show and past a curtain that led backstage and to a bathroom. Parker proceeded to take a pee break, the camera shyly shifted down at his sneakers. The audience cheered with delight as the lens panned back up, tracking the singer to the mirror where he tousled his mane and finally, to our relieved cries, washed his hands.
And thank God for that. The next part was a brief visit to a smaller B-stage, where Parker fiddled around on multiple synthesizers, DJ controllers and about a billion knobs to mix together “Ethereal Connection” and “Not My World.”
Of course, the band did the thing where they pretended to leave the stage for the planned encore, and of course the crowd chanted “Kev-in, Kev-in” to drag them back, phone flashlights illuminating the arena like glowing stars.
Perhaps it’s this enthusiasm that inspired Parker to ask for the house lights to flash on, so that he could get a good look at all of us before playing the last two planned songs: “The Less I Know the Better” and Grammy-winning dancefloor track “End of Summer.”
Then Parker spotted a fan’s sign and read from it, reluctantly picking a number off the poster to reveal a song request: “The Moment.”
“Yeah, that’s rigged,” he said. But he couldn’t resist his Tampa Impala (Tampala?) fans. “Alright, let’s give the people three more songs.”
