Seeing Tame Impala live is like watching an anaglyph 3D movie without those funky red and blue glasses. The point where the red and blue intersect is where Tame Impala exists. Somewhere between the overlapping of the lush, royal qualities of the color purple and their special blend of cosmic psych rock, Tame Impala is slightly disorienting but enthralling.
Their distinctly distant sound is almost like listening to music underwater. And then there were the enormous Winamp visualizations washed over the audience in time with the airy, ephemeral sounds that Tame Impala is known for. The sheer magnitude of the visualizations was equalled in grandeur only by the noise emanating from the stage. Then again, based on the amount of gyrating it could have also been equalled by the amount of mind altering substances certain members of the audience had consumed.
Drugs or not, the show was anything but tame. Chill maybe, but definitely not tame. Then the unmistakable bass line of Massive Attack’s “Angel” began to reverberate off of the bodies packed like sardines into Lincoln Hall. The show went from great to unforgettable.