The last time Tame Impala played London, they were riding high on the success of their 2010 debut, Innerspeaker. It was the five-piece's biggest gig to date but, mired in bad sound and bogged down in self-indulgence, the vast environs of the Roundhouse only served to highlight the Australian band's shortcomings.

Sixteen months on and Kevin Parker, the man at the heart of Tame Impala, has returned on the back of his band's follow-up album, Lonerism. A bubbling, intoxicating opus that blends classic psych-rock with the lush pop, glam stomps and experimental sounds of the 70s and club highs of the 90s, Lonerism entered the charts at No 14.

Gone is Parker's deer-in-headlights stare; in its stead is an awestruck gaze of genuine appreciation as he takes in the sellout crowd. As the sharp riffs and soft melancholy of Desire Be, Desire Go fall silent, he soaks up the atmosphere. "Thank you so much lovely people of London," Parker says. "This is going so much better than I imagined."

Though soundwaves once again spill out from the frontman's Lennonesque black-and-white Rickenbacker guitar and on to the huge screen behind the band, making Spirograph-style patterns, he doesn't hide behind these old-school visuals. Gracefully throwing his arms above his head as he sings the sighing It Feels Like We Only Go Backwards, Parker looks more pop ingenue than prog throwback.

The band feel different, too. They put their all into realising Parker's Technicolor vision and keep tight rein on each sprawling song. Julien Barbagallo's drums propel the stomping Elephant, while the synths that dominate Lonerism push Music to Walk Home By to celestial heights.

The setlist layers the best from both albums. But the dreamy, ethereal vocals are often lost against the belligerent rock and fitful grooves, Parker's reflective musings muffled once again by inadequate sound. He overcomes these handicaps, however, for an explosive encore of Half Full Glass of Wine. Sneering through vengeful lyrics and emboldened by the hypnotic, churning groove that builds to almost unbearable proportions around him, the lithe, lanky, long-haired singer seems to grow to the messianic proportions the music-press hype would have us believe he inhabits. When Parker breaks the trance, jumping in to sing before striking the appropriate chord, it brings Tame Impala back to earth, but it's still a resounding victory for the Aussies.

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