Ty Segall
Ty Segall
(Drag City)
Ty Segall has always reminded me of the cliché stoner who sold weed to everyone in your freshman year dorm while constantly jamming to Phish. And while he may carry the carefree burnout aesthetic—both in appearance and vocally—Segall also represents the one dude in your college who unexpectedly made something of himself.
There’s no question that Segall is a genius. Whether you like his music or not, he’s only in his late twenties and has already completed nine studio records, been a part of at least four other bands—including the also successful, yet more aggressive Fuzz—and can still find ways to sell out NYC venues. I can’t tell if Segall is just lazy or really fucking narcissistic, but his latest release, the self-titled record, is actually his second one to share a title with his name, the first being his debut release in 2008. And it’s this weird, almost eclectic attitude that makes Segall an interesting musical figure to follow.
To get an idea of this latest record, imagine if Josh Scogin and Billy Corgan made a Beatles cover band while listening to Paul Simon records ten years ago. Ty Segall (part 2) takes you on a journey, not in the psychedelic, find-yourself kind of way, but in the amount of effort it takes to listen to songs that feature four-minute musical interludes and direct odes to punk jam band crossovers. You’ll find yourself either completely dosing off or over-analyzing something that isn’t meant to be looked at that closely. It’s weird, but never disheartening.
The record opens with “Break a Guitar,” which is really just a generic rock backtrack for Segall’s more intense guitar work. The track is stagnant, but the instrumental prowess blares to the foreground to steal the show with each and every listen. The only real diversion from this formula comes on “Talkin.’” It’s a twanged out, southern saloon style rock song that could easily narrate any scene in a rom-com set in a dive bar. Though it’s probably the least original song on the record, the simplicity of it makes it stand out amongst the plethora of experimental movements surrounding it.
The first half of Ty Segall (part 2) is the more engaging side of the album. “Warm Hands (Freedom Returned)” is the third track in and it spans over ten minutes, four of which are just an excuse for one hell of a long ass bridge. And just as the title suggests, the track reads as an edgier, grittier compliment to the song that directly precedes it, “Freedom.” This coffee house rock jam once again serves as a platform to highlight Segall’s playing. Though his style never once reflects the greatness of Hendrix, both he and Segall have learned the benefits to putting a skilled guitar on a pedestal to block out a weaker vocal range.
There’s a throwback bluesy vibe that Segall modernizes throughout a large majority of his latest album, perturbingly reminiscent of bands from decades past. “The Only One” sounds like it came straight out of a basement in Brooklyn accompanied by sprawling guitar riffs that make me think constantly of “Hotel California.” Ever since Frank Ocean ripped that track off it seems like artists everywhere bite off a bit of the Eagles. I’d say this was a coincidence if “Thank You Mr. K” hadn’t instantly reminded me of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated.” Neither of these tracks are copies in any capacity, rather they are just influences that became a little too remarkable to be waved.
Segall’s biggest problem with this record is that he plays all of his cards too early in the game. The final four songs blend together and fall back into obscurity. I found myself constantly wanting to return to the beginning of the record rather than trek through the second half. “Papers” is a well-constructed song, but it gets drowned out by the dullness and lyrical overlap that surrounds it with “Orange Color Queen” and the oddity that is “Take Care (To Comb Your Hair).”
There’s no overarching concept to Ty Segall (part 2); it’s just a solid collection of rock songs that could easily bring children of the flower power age as well as the punk age together. Segall balances an experimental edginess surprisingly well with the hippie vibes of the ‘60s and ‘70s to become a rather strong reflection of contemporary rock and the indie revolution. However, sometimes spreading things out works a lot better than stacking it all together—unless it’s a four minute guitar bridge, than it should simply be cut down.
