Do you know about this crazy fucked up thing called “custardification”?
Honestly, you can’t make it up.
Custardification refers to the journey of a caterpillar to a butterfly.
It’s a colloquial, evocative way to describe histolysis – the biological process where a caterpillar liquefies itself into a nutrient-rich “soup” inside its chrysalis or cocoon then transmogrifies (an equally excellent word) into a beautiful butterfly.
You can see where I’m going with this.
The first time I saw Kevin Parker and Tame Impala was at The Corner Hotel in Richmond in 2009. The band was still in the stonkingly heavy, psychedelic rock phase of their career, Parker was ripping licks and trying to sing at the same time, not always making it to the mic in time for his cue.
It was still a sick show.
Tonight was just a wee bit bigger / more professional.
This was the moment we got to really see how much Parker had made the leap to become the *180,001 species of lepidopteran, (an order of winged insects which include butterflies and moths)
*citation needed.
Ninajirachi opens the show at 7.30pm and admits: “It’s a bit scary being in front of so many people, Melbourne, so thank you for giving me your energy.”
Her two-table set-up of sound gear allows the pocket rocket to jump between each workstation, triggering loops and adding keyboard effects to songs from her magnificent maximalist masterpiece I Love My Computer.
After starting strongly the set treads water a bit until she changes tempos to glitchy trap and drum’n’bass rhythms then really and I mean really peaks towards the end with a teased out version of iPod Touch then Fuck My Computer. It was the most amount of buy-in I’ve seen by an audience towards an opening act.
The white octopus tentacles coming down from her stage set up turn multi-coloured for the final two bangers above and when she asks the crowd: “You wanna what?” the expletive laden answer comes back loud and proud. “FUCK… MY COMPUTER!”
A short break then it’s Tame time.
The spotlight comes up on Our Kevin standing by himself, no mic, no guitar, no flimsy scarf tossed over his shoulders like he used to wear.
Very bold “it’s just one guy” energy.
Sidenote, how good are these home-made t-shirts I spotted after the show.
“Melbourne what’s up! Thank you for having us back in your beautiful city. You look beautiful,” he says.
“Please thank Ninajirachi, what a weapon.”
They slam into the ‘Beatles-esque drums of Apocalypse Dreams and I count five members on stage with him, all facing out, all locked in, all brooding.
Parker is dressed in smart casual, wearing a blue and white striped jumper and an expensive, perfectly tousled haircut. He sings: “Nothing ever changes / No matter how long you do your hair” and gives his manicured mop a playful scrunch.
Three tracks in and they’re absolutely cooking.
The warm, hip hop thud of Borderline hits hard as the lighting rig moves like an indecisive UFO deciding whether or not to land. Blues and greens splice through the arena and a friend later comments: “He’s inventing colours we’ve never seen before, we were calling him Kevin Pantone.”
Parker’s eyes gleam a little brighter when playing new stuff from Deadbeat.
The come-hither guitars of Loser ring out and the crowd lets out the biggest roar of the night. “I had to tell ya, it’s now or never/ So much for closure, I lost composure.”
His upper register is heading more and more into the Supertramp territory and he cribs Beck’s breakout hit, Loser, for the start of the chorus.
Both excellent developments.
“I’m supposed to talk to you now while they sort out the lights. What’s happening in Planet Melbourne?” he says, padding. Parker notices a home-made poster and lets out a wicked chuckle.
“That sign says ‘I got back with my ex to see you Kev’. That’s diabolical (laughs). I’m sure there’s a beautiful story.”
Elephant sees him settle into the rock god moment with ease and Feels Like We’re Only Going Backwards is the biggest singalong of the night.
“We’ve never played this one before, it feels like a fucking fun one, what do you reckon?” Parker flirts before singing the floaty, unsettling opening vocals of Dracula. The lighting and lasers all turn crimson red and the stomping beat sounds majestic and menacing.
Fun fact: the “bloop” effect in the song is meant to sound like a drop of blood.
Parker heads to B Stage to play the Chemical Brothers meets Underworld new cut Ethereal Connection (with a snippet of Glimmer) into Not My World. Parker writhes about on the ground, surrounded by kamps, lying on his back, looking up at the camera.
They start to really bring it home when confetti cannons THWACK on the drop of Let It Happen, then mosey into a tripped out Nangs, a dusting off of Expectation and the simply massive one touch punch of Eventually and the conspiratorially slow New Person, Same Old Mistakes.
At the start of the encore, Parker says “While I was on tour, getting a Melbourne Bitter at my local pub in Fremantle was the thing I looked forward to the most…and I got home and they’d changed it to Carlton Draught!”
He follows up by addressing the bootyshakers on the right: “I’ve been watching you guys dancing. I know that sounds creepy.”
They finish off with My Old Ways, The Less I Know The Better and the shuddering chug of End of Summer. Confetti rains down again and as we hit the exits, beaming.
I explain to my plus one that part of the custardification process is that while there is total anatomical liquefaction, research has proven that butterflies retain memories from their caterpillar days. Crazy, right?
“Parker is like a brand new person but he’s still willing to give us all the best moments from when he was a caterpillar.”
My buddy nods half-heartedly at my strained metaphor and slaps my back.
I guess you had to be there.
Further Reading
Tame Impala Announces Fifth Album ‘Deadbeat’, Shares ‘Loser’
