“The Ty Segall Blues Explosion” presentan su último trabajo (por ahora…): Emotional mugger (Drag City, 2016)
El hiperactivo Ty Segall continúa produciendo y grabando discos a la velocidad de Prince. Su último trabajo (que yo conozca) es este Emotional Mugger, oficialmente el octavo trabajo discográfico del angelino. Para la ocasión, ha reclutado a una banda: The Muggers y pone en marcha la “Emotional Mugging”.
En cualquier caso, y centrándonos en la música, el sonido de Emotional Mugger es decididamente retro. Grabado con técnicas y truquitos de finales de los sesenta, cuando los “power trio” eran los que marcaban la pauta. El listón energético apenas si tiene pausa, y precisamente cuando se ponen más Pop es cuando personalmente más me interesa su trabajo. Es decir, en Diversion, Squealer two o Candy Sam. El resto del disco será aparentemente más rompedor e incluso gamberro, pero me parece un ejercicio de estilo sin más, llegando a resultar bastante monótono, aunque consigue el principal objetivo de este trabajo: alejarse algo de su anterior disco: Manipulator (2014). Esquivo, epatante, reacio a las etiquetas, así es Ty Segall: lo tomas o lo dejas.
“Each song on Ty Segall’s eighth album seems to be an oblique short story about cheap thrills. The album’s populated with addicts—people engineered to come back for more despite how shitty it may ultimately make them feel. Segall seems less focused on hitting the exact right notes and more concerned with establishing a strange, offbeat vibe, a match for the disembodied menace of the smiling doll heads on the sleeve” (Pitchfork)
Ty Segall, a quien dedicamos hoy el día en TJB, se puso la peluca Glam para realizar este Ty Rex, su álbum de covers y de tributo al genio británico. Para ello, se puso manos a la obra con varios cortes del repertorio más oscuro de Bolan, y éste fue el resultado.
“Garage punk icon Ty Segall‘s influences run from vintage psychedelia to first-generation punk, but a thread that runs strong in his music is one that might not seem so obvious. Segall is a serious fan ofT. Rex, Marc Bolan‘s band that evolved from spaced-out folk-rock to high-stepping glam-infused boogie, briefly becoming one of the biggest British acts of the ’70s in the process. In 2011, Segall paid homage to T. Rex with the EP Ty-Rex, in which he served up scrappy, lo-fi versions of tunes from the T. Rex back catalog that ran Bolan‘s elemental, riff-dominated melodies through Segall‘s buzzy guitar style and sweetly sneering vocals. A playful and entertaining gesture from one musician to a fallen hero, Ty-Rex originally was released as a six-song EP, with Ty-Rex II, a single featuring two more T. Rex covers, following in 2015. In late 2015, Goner Records reissued Ty-Rex with the two tracks fromTy-Rex II, adding a cover of “20th Century Boy” as a bonus” (All Music)
Manipulator, el enésimo disco de Ty Segall, en solitario, con o sin banda o acompañando a colegas, es otro de los ejemplos que nos demuestran que Ty es uno de los grandes talentos de los últimos tiempos, incluso por esa sobresaturación de discos.
Un trabajo donde Segall vuelve a reencontrarse con los sonidos más crudos del Rock de los sesenta (Feel, It´s over, Connection man, Susie thumb, The crawler…); la Psicodelia suave vía Love u otros artefactos sesenteros (Manipulator, Tall man, skinny lady; The faker, The clock, Green belly, The hand, Who´s producing you), distanciándose de su predecesor: Sleeper (2013), aunque con muchos cortes que pasarían la criba de éste (The singer, Don´t you want to know, The feels, Stick around).
Un torrente de canciones, un torbellino de guitarras que nos vuelve a acercar a este pequeño genio de los primeros tiempos del siglo ventiuno. Lejos de sus inicios LoFi, pero cada vez más cercano a una zona de confort más rockista. Un disco más que recomendable.
“With Manipulator, Segall arrives at his own personal promised land, the place where all the divergent paths he’s travelled intersect. As Segall has revealed in interviews, Manipulatorrepresents the inevitable pause from his usual breakneck pace, its 17-song, double-album sprawl the product of an unprecedented (for him) 14-month writing process. You can feel that extra attention to detail on every song here: In sharp contrast to his previous album-to-album (or, in the case of 2012’s grab-bag Twins, track-to-track) stylistic shifts, the songs ofManipulator represent a perfect melting-pot synthesis of Segall’s many sonic signatures, as if each component—from the British Invasion-inspired melodies to the glam-rock affectations to the berserker guitar solos—was carefully measured out in beakers and test tubes before being mixed together. “He’s going to make a movie/ Of his entire life,” Segall sings on the gritty acoustic groover “Green Belly”, and even if he’s not referring directly to Manipulator’s career-spanning breadth, he certainly embraces auteur theory here, playing pretty much all of the instruments himself. (His trusty Ty Segall Band appears together on just one track.)
Manipulator sticks within a clearly demarcated comfort zone—i.e., the turn-of-the-’70s classic-rock canon spanning The Who Sell Out to Raw Power—but manages to touch upon every significant development in rock ‘n’ roll during that period. Want string-swept Bolan-esque serenades? Meet “The Singer”. A glitter-smeared proto-punk face-melter? Check “It’s Over”. Jeff Beck-era Yardbirds mod-rock romps? Keep it real with “The Faker”. OrnateForever Changes-worthy psych-folk? You can’t beat “The Clock”. A Grand Funk’d boogie that yields a drum-banging breakdown just like the one on Rod Stewart’s version of the Temptations’ “(I Know) I’m Losing You”? Get your fill with “Feel”. But perhaps the most pervasive influence of all is David Bowie circa The Man Who Sold the World—not just in Segall’s fanciful, faux-Brit diction (a quality he shares with his equally effete pal Tim Presley, aka White Fence), but in the way he welds electric shredding to percussive acoustic underpinnings, with the stripped-down strut of “Tall Skinny Lady” and “The Clock” bringing to mind the Bowie/Ronson match-ups on “Black Country Rock” and “Width of a Circle”.
And yet, even though his musical frame of reference is fixated upon an era that began 20 years before he was born, Segall is very much consumed by modern problems. As to be expected from someone who hasn’t updated their Twitter account in three months,Manipulator takes a skeptical view of technocracy, its lyrics dotted with allusions to surveillance, privacy invasion, identity theft, and TV addiction. In this light, the album’s acoustic/electric symbiosis feels emblematic of the tug-of-war between old-world authenticity and new-world convenience playing out in Segall’s head. (As if the aforementioned “Feel” doesn’t make his preference for IRL connections explicit enough, he answers it with another song called “The Feels”.) Of course, like any tried ‘n’ true garage-rocker, Segall still has girl trouble on his mind—but, in this case, it’s trouble with a girl addicted to her devices named, natch, “Susie Thumb”.
With its fuzzed-out Kinksian hooks, “Susie Thumb” is an obvious choice for Manipulator’s lead single—and, really, they could all be singles here. But that’s a comment on both Segall’s consistent craftsmanship and the songs’ very similar sense of scale, the latter of which ultimately prevents Manipulator from becoming the career-crowning milestone its protracted gestation period suggested. Manipulator may be 50 percent longer than the average Ty Segall record, but it doesn’t always make the case that it had to be. The issue isn’t song quality so much as a flattened topography: Whether they emphasize regal violins or squealing leads, the tunes here are pitched at the same cruising altitude and rarely upset their steady, maraca-massaged choogle. As such, Manipulator feels less like an epic Side-A-to-Side-D journey and more like an hour-long CD that would benefit from some editing (particularly when the songs start to feel like dopplegangers of one another—see: “The Crawler” vs. “It’s Over”). As his red-hot, silver-lipsticked recent appearance on Conan proved, Segall is ready for prime time. However, the ample generosity of Manipulator highlights the cruel paradox of showbiz: When you give the people everything they want, you can’t leave them wanting more” (Pitchfork)
El prolífico Ty Segall nos deja otro artefacto sonoro para este año en curso. Sleeper es un disco que de alguna manera rompe con su imagen más transgresora y LoFi. Es un álbum acústico, en la mejor tradición californiana, un trabajo en el que se exploran cualquier faceta posible de los sonidos acústicos. Y dentro de esta clasificiación, podemos rastrear huellas de los sesenta y el Folk Psicodélico de Donovan o Tim Buckley: Sleeper, The keepers, The man man, Come outside, Queen Lullaby). Trazos finos de T. Rex, Bowie o incluso Lennon: Sleeper, She don´t care. E incluso nos hallamos algún ramalazo de Blues rural (Sweet C.C., 6th. Street) o el Folk más tradicional (The west).
Un trabajo con esa variedad sonora registrado con un elenco de instrumentos realmente reducido (y que por cierto, el propio Segall se ha encargado de registrar casi en su totalidad), forzosamente tiene que tener su encanto. Y efectivamente, así es. Sleeper es un buen trabajo. Un álbum que el californiano ha engendrado a partir de una serie de momentos personales traumáticos, utilizando unas sencillas demos y al que ha sabido darle cuerpo hasta conformar lo que es: un hermoso cancionero fácilmente identificable pero no por ello menos gozoso y ameno.
“As a recent promotional tour video pointed out, Sleeper‘s title can be seen as a comment onTy Segall‘s own prolificacy. But it also has a deeper resonance. Last December, the singer and guitarist’s adopted father died after a long battle with cancer, and shortly after, Segall stopped speaking to his mother. (He doesn’t go into detail in interviews, saying only “she did some bad stuff.”) Speaking to NPR, he called this period of his life a “weird, intense time,” and Sleeper is a document of what came out of him in that moment. “It was kind of a purge, to be honest,” he said.
Gone is the brazen, screaming Segall behind Slaughterhouse, Melted, and Twins. Even the relatively sedate Goodbye Bread, with its exploding heads and angry California commercials, featured a more intense Segall than the one who made Sleeper. “When I was making [Sleeper], I couldn’t have written a loud, heavy song if somebody had paid me to,” he said. Instead, he picked up his acoustic guitar and made something that owes less to Sabbath and more to Tyrannosaurus Rex-era Marc Bolan or early Bert Jansch. The title track opens quietly with a whistle, and slowly, he strums a minor chord progression louder and louder. “Oh sleeper/ My dreamer/ I dream a dream for you,” he sings. It’s a gentle track that Segall said was initially written for his slumbering girlfriend, but Sleeper‘s much weightier symbolic connotations of sleeping and dreaming hang heavy over the album.
While the album’s tone and pacing seem to reflect its initial inspiration, the lyrics are rarely confessional in the most explicit sense– any references to Segall’s personal life are cloaked in more broadly relatable terms. Occasionally specific details pop out (“He packed his bags this morning/ He bought his ticket today/ Don’t you go away/ Not today,” he sings on “She Don’t Care”), and he gets slightly more blunt with “Crazy”, which is sung to a “little one,” offering comfort because “He’s here/ He’s still here/ Though she is crazy.” Segall said that “Crazy” was written spontaneously the moment he recorded it– something he’s never done before– about his mother. “It’s kind of that thing where a person crosses a line and you just snap,” he said. “You hit a point where you don’t care how it affects that person because you just have to say it so you can move on.” The way he talks about the song, it’s easy to imagine a diatribe, but it’s a catchy, sweet, two-and-a-half minute song with a lyrical twist. For all its personal significance, “Crazy” is as open-ended as Segall’s best songs.
So after all his shrieking, shredding, and psychedelic freakouts last year, Sleeper offers a welcome sonic respite. It’s easily his most stripped down effort to date, full of elegantly simple, catchy, well-crafted songs. And although everything’s acoustic, aside from one well-placed electric solo near the end of “The Man Man”, the album’s packed with subtle diversity. While “6th Street” recalls the more psychedelic-leaning folk he made with Tim Presley on Hair, “The West” could’ve been plucked from the rambling Carter Family songbook. Then there’s “Queen Lullabye”, with its distant-sounding falsetto, sludgy guitar, droning low-end, and trudging-through-molasses pace.
But even when he’s switching things up on Sleeper, the album never feels as scatterbrained as his previous work. Goodbye Bread opened with a sing-songy ballad and went straight into a shout. Twins featured psychedelia and garage pop. Melted had acoustic-driven catchiness and blown-out fuzz. Those albums could pull off a scattershot of styles with well-placed transitions, but Sleeper is something else. Everything here easily lives in the same universe– 10 tracks of similarly hued songs, all of a piece. It’s his most focused album, with every song’s tone easily flowing into the next, and it’s also one of his best.” (Pitchfork)
Un nuevo sencillo de Ty Segall anunciador de su nuevo material, de inminente aparición este próximo otoño. Sencillo apabullante, con sonidos de guitarras ásperas y distorsionadas, coros de voces femeninas a capella y todos los ingredientes del Punk-Pop versión California.
Si a mí me llegan a decir cuando me casé que el crucero de mi viaje de novios sería a bordo de un barco en el que tocaran Thee Oh Sees y Ty Segall evidentemente, me lo hubiera pensado todavía menos de lo que me pensé entonces. Porque parece ser que existen unos promotores que han ideado un viaje Miami-Bahamas en el que tocarán bandas del calibre de las mencionadas, Vivian Girls, The Black Lips, Surfer Blood, Strange Boys o Turbo Fruits. Impresionante la gozada que puede ser disfrutar de tus vacaciones con bandas como éstas tocando todas las noches. El primer viaje está programado para finales de Febrero. Una avezada discográfica ha editado este single compartido (se está imponiendo esta moda últimamente) entre Thee Oh Sees y Ty Segall. Los temas son evidentemente, incendiarios cortes del mejor Rock de Garaje a baja intensidad. Súper recomendable. Yeah!!
“By now you have more than likely caught wind of the Bruise Cruise, the hipster-tinged Mayercraft conceived by former San Francisco resident and Panache Booking founder Michelle Cable. Featuring live sets from some of the best in the garage rock scene – The Black Lips, Vivian Girls, Surfer Blood, Turbo Fruits and much more – the party ship is scheduled to sail from Miami to the Bahamas and back over three days in late February. In honor of the inaugural voyage, Memphis-based tastemakers Goner Records today announced the release of a limited edition split 7″ featuring none other than Bruise Cruise performers and San Francisco garage rock favorites Ty Segall and Thee Oh Sees. We expect the single run print to go fast, so be sure to snag it while you still have a chance. And for the diehards, Bruise Cruise passes can still be had for $500 + fees, commemorative 7″ included. Hundreds of drunk garage rock fanatics mixed with 2,000 shuffle board playing family vacationers — what could go wrong!” (thefeast.com)
Uno de los grandes redescubrimientos de este 2010 ha sido el nuevo resurgir del Lo-Fi. Los sonidos “surgidos” a comienzos de los noventa principalmente en los Usa (Sebadoh, Guided by Voices, Pavement…) han visto como gentes como Dum Dum Girls o Harlem vuelven a utilizar estos métodos de grabación en poquísimas tomas y añaden ese plus de intensidad y frescura a sus álbumes. Ty Segall es otro de los ejemplos que podemos encontrar en este 2010. Iniciado su proyecto como un one band man, en la actualidad con este tercer disco se hace acompañar de una banda más o menos estable, ha aligerado algo su sonido eliminando algo de crudeza, y nos presenta este Melted (2010), un álbum donde sus principios aparecen inalterables, utilizando el Lo-Fi como punto de partida para su álbum. Un disco breve, más o menos media hora y de gran intensidad y ejecutado desde el comienzo con furia (Finger) y con los presupuestos Lo-Fi siempre presentes (Caesar). La electricidad es también protagonista en temas como Girlfriend, Sad Fuzz o Melted. Un disco creado con una buena dosis de “locura” pero con no menos dosis de fuerza creativa y de intensidad.
“San Fran garage-punker (and former one man bander) Ty Segall pens crackling classic-sounding rock’n’roll tunes about as lean and economical as they come, pushing his rangy shoutalong hooks so far forward there’s rarely room for pesky little details like verses. Although he’s thrown quite a few more colors into his instrumental palette in recent years, he’s still mostly working way out in the red, leaving nuance to others. Melted, his latest, boasts a 30-minute runtime that feels closer to 15. Segall gets in, gets out, and gets it done nearly every time.
Melted kicks off with quite the 1-2-3-4 punch: the swarming “Finger”, the strummy “Caesar”, the bopalong “Girlfriend”, the two-faced “Sad Fuzz”. Each tune spends a little time getting situated then settles into a wide-eyed amphetamine groove, levels well blown out, Segall’s slack, bratty howl smeared liberally over top. “Girlfriend” in particular feels snappy and effortless. Segall’s not taking much time figuring out how to beef up his sound, and while just about everything’s bathed in the same warm haze and power trio crackle, he manages to jam the odd nooks and crannies of these straightaway songs with a little squiggly sci-fi guitar, barrelhouse piano, recorder, even the odd vocal collage. Segall’s made some fine music in the past, but it’s always felt a little hit-or-miss on an LP level, with hooks buried by freneticism and too little emphasis on his natural talent as a singer. Melted seems in some ways like his first proper record– he’s in control of every element of his sound on these first four rippers.
Melted gets a little soft in the middle, its title track lost in a sea of haze, “Mike D’s Coke” coming off almost like a third-rate Ariel Pink number. The tracks exhibit a little more range than his Buddy Holly/early Kinks/Ramones triangulation, but they don’t hit as hard, slowing the record’s momentum. But things pick up rather nicely from “Imaginary Person” on out, riding a wave of sweaty insistence on through to the all-too-hasty end. “Imaginary” is a beast, clattering for a spell before breaking into a surfy chug. “My Sunshine” bakes and “Bees” floats by, but it’s the muddy blues of “Mrs.” that really leaves its mark, a murder ballad in the “Hey Joe” mold that Segall slows down just long enough to completely kill.
You’re not going to hear many rock records that’ll kick you square in the pants quite like this one this year, provided Segall doesn’t up and crank another one out by December; the kid’s got heart, brains, and quite an ear for a hook, and he throws himself body and soul into these tunes. Segall makes quite an impression in half an hour’s time, and Melted’s the best foot he’s put forward yet. It still seems like his best records are ahead of him, like he’s still got a couple of things to nail, but as it stands, Melted could charm the sweat out of anybody” (pitchfork.com)