Ty Segall



    For perfectly encapsulating California’s leisurely late afternoon sound, San Francisco’s fuzz-rock wonderboy Ty Segall may very well be somewhat of a workaholic. This year alone, Segall has released three varied albums, each a varying shade of Segall’s paisley-stained personality, at once whimsical, sneering and lustful. The woozy collaborative album Hair with LA’s Tim Presley, the ominous space-rock release Slaughterhouse as a Ty Segall Band and now a solo album, Twins, Ty Segall is expanding the boundaries of the sounds from the garage.

    Twins, as compared to the sweetness of previous solo release Goodbye Bread, mocks while rocking intensely. Unlike the occasional lulls of Goodbye Bread, every single track on Twins, from start to finish, is a banger. Kicking off with the drawling opener “Thank God For Sinners,” Segall sets a tone of both reckless abandon and spite from a man who, at the end of the day, can’t help but give in to his romantic instinct.

    Progressing emotionally from sarcastic to wistful, Twins ends on a hopeless note but never deviates from solid, superbly produced psychedelic sounds. The jeering “You’re The Doctor” spits and smirks, while “Inside Your Heart” harkens back to the slow drones of Slaughterhouse with a distortion at the very end that fades into an opaque fuzz. Twins’ single “The Hill” teases the listener, beginning as a folk ditty with lilting female vocals, only to burst into swirls of guttural noise. 

    The fuzziest track on the album, “Ghost,” penetrates the listener with a head-banging heaviness unlike any of Segall’s other releases, with Segall’s vocals muddled by molasses-like guitars and poltergeist-worthy “oohs” somewhere in the distance. “They Told Me Too” is straight gutter punk, reeling with Segall’s irresistible falsetto vocals. 

    Twins peaks with the standout track “Love Fuzz,” a sultry, rock n’ roll jam and ultimately a love song. Immediately after, the refreshing lo-fi acoustic number “Gold On The Shore” displays a nostalgic Segall, immediately followed up by the grim, self-deprecating pleas of the album closer “There is No Tomorrow.”

    Dipping in and out of drones, punk-rooted frustration and snarls all around, Twins marks a pivotal release for Segall’s career. To have a release that’s altogether thrashing, infectious and emotional achieves a depth that the slew of garage rock revivalists today fail to encapsulate.