Look up psychedelic in the dictionary and you will come up with terms such as altered state, distorted perception and hallucination, all seemingly suggesting a warped take on your surroundings; a certain disregard for parameters, which, of course, applies to the music genre as much as the state of mind (the two often hand in hand). Tame Impala, an Australian trio, clearly know their psychedelics (as in the bands), having drawn on the best from 60s San Francisco and the UK, filtering them through a relentless energy, and throwing together a series of spiralling sets. Production wise it is clean and light; flanging guitars and light fast beats work continuously, and we mean continuously. The light airy vocals and fuzzed up guitars push the melodies, floating in limbo between the past and the present. ‘It Is Not Meant To Be Me’ has a vocal that might be found in a Sergeant Pepper outtake; the open drum-kit and pushing voice is like a dream sequence with more colour. Yet there is more here than a modernised take on the hallucinogenic 60s. There are flashes of blues rock (‘Island Walking’ has a fast walking rhythm and singing electric lead) and 70s synth weirdness (hear the second half of ‘Runway, Houses, City, Clouds’). Most songs are built upon a clever, enveloping guitar riff – fast and steady, ‘Jeremy’s Storm’ gathers more and more momentum, building with distortion and some exceptional drumming. ‘Lucidity’ has a more straight-faced approach; you can hear echoes of The Who among the blown out guitars, yet the reverberating voices lift its feet from the ground. This can be a head spinning record; The Electric Prunes or Syd Barrett reflected in the band’s refusal to play the swooning melodies, yet using Cream-like riffs to add a rocking backbone. So far this is the psychedelic record of the year, and it might end up being a whole lot more.