Review: Pitchblack Playback, We the Curious – ‘Swirling synths and silent head nods’

If, like me, you’re a slave to the enduring, undelivering promise of dopamine, it’s a rare relief to just sit back and focus on music — on its depth, textures, and emotional weight.

You’re not checking or flicking or swiping or updating. You don’t talk or sing along. The music isn’t background noise to another round of life admin — it’s front, centre and all around, a certified dose of sonic meditation.

That’s the whole premise of Pitchblack Playback, a deep listening event series at play in select cities across the UK, Europe, the Americas and New Zealand.

It’s a simple enough setup, right? And it makes perfect sense. I’d hazard a guess that the vast majority of artists still create albums meant for immersion. The playlist era has had its merry way with that intent. When did escapism fall by the wayside? Or become the reserve of the cinema? Music merits (and rewards) the same degree of undivided attention.

 

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In Bristol, the Planetarium in Millennium Square hosts these listening events. I went earlier this year for the behemothic (and unrivalled) Interstellar soundtrack. This time, it was Tame Impala’s seminal psych-pop record Currents — a serious change of pace.

Even a decade on, it still hits all the right chords.

The fact Kevin Parker wrote, recorded, performed and produced Currents on his tod is simply mind-boggling. He’s like your humble town square one-man-band but operating on an entirely different level, jacked up (one would assume) on audio-roids, psilocybin and fairy dust.

It’s a transformational record ruminating on the loss of love and what comes after, mingling Parker’s old plaything psychedelia with stronger notes of dance and disco.

Swirling, stirring synthesisers are the album’s lifeblood, arranged into relentlessly infectious melodies and propped up (as if they need it) by simple, sharp drums and meaty bass. Then you’ve got textural rhythm guitar on statement opener Let It Happen and lullaby-like keys on Yes I’m Changing.

And vitally, it’s all amazing through the Planetarium sound system, which reveals little subtleties you’ve missed till now — a click here, a few quiet chords there.

Being surrounded by the music also gives you a new take on its hierarchy. On Currents, the instrumentation is layered with absurd intricacy but somehow avoids sounding too busy.

Parker’s vocals float above it all, pitching pretty on-the-nose lyrics in ethereal ways rather than far-flung metaphors or oblique allusions. Look no further than this doozy: “They say people never change but that’s bullshit / They do”.

Goodness gracious me — it’s a corker of an album, isn’t it just? Full of lush arrangements and iconic grooves. You want to shimmy. Instead, you’re limited to a silent head nod.

Foregoing the movement amplifies your hyper-focus on the richness of Parker’s obsessive output, from the spacey sadness of Nangs to the laser-like synths in The Moment’s bridge, from the pulsing hi-hat across Eventually to the entire delectable shot of music that is Disciples.

Even Past Life (usually a skip for me) feels more exemplary in its introspection, from that fuzzy rumbling bass to the surgically tuned snare. Have I been sleeping on this track the whole time? Entirely possible.

As far as testimonials go, it’s hard to trump Max Richter’s claim that this is “the optimal way to listen to an album”.  Richter’s always right. Pitchblack Playback is a wicked idea. It’s weird — but it’s even weirder that I find it weird, because indulging in music like this is a genuine treat.

Don’t miss your chance to do so; their events are listed here.

Main image: Samuel Fletcher