Ty Segall, White Fence, Strange Boys, Bitchin Bajas | Lincoln Hall | Rock, Pop, Etc | Chicago Reader

Ty Segall, White Fence, Strange Boys, Bitchin Bajas Recommended Member Picks 18+ Early Warnings (Music) Sold Out (Music) Soundboard

When: Thu., May 10, 8 p.m. 2012

San Francisco garage rocker Ty Segall is nothing if not prolific. With a no-fuss approach to the studio and a prodigious work ethic, he's made 11 albums since 2008—and the brisk pace of his output seems to have rubbed off on his music, giving it an appealing urgency. Last year's fantastic Goodbye Bread has a dialed-down vibe, balancing its wild howling and heavy distortion with hooky melodies and strummy acoustic guitars, but you can never predict what Segall's next record will sound like from listening to the previous one—Hair (Drag City), released a couple of weeks ago, is an action-packed eight-song collaboration with fellow Bay Area denizen White Fence (ne Tim Presley), who shares Segall's preference for getting shit done quickly. The clash of their personalities sometimes provides a nice tension—they don't seem to have sweated how to combine their contributions to each song, and "Time" and "I Am Not a Game" sound like their sections were crudely spliced together. The combination of their aesthetics results in some cool hybrids too—"Crybaby" features an unlikely mix of in-the-red rock 'n' roll riffs and pure glam vibrato a la Marc Bolan. Throughout Hair, Presley provides a volatility that sets every tune teetering on the brink of disintegration. On June 26 Segall will release Slaughterhouse (In the Red), his first studio record with his current touring band and proof positive that their time on their road together has sharpened their fiery edge. It opens with a gale of guitar feedback from Segall and Mikal Cronin, which recedes to unveil the stomping, hypnotic "Death"—and for the next 35 minutes, unholy guitar skree jockeys for position with driving, Nuggets-style melodies and unhinged rhythms. The production is appropriately raw, but you can hear every mind-frying detail. I'm sure Segall could produce something more refined, but he's killing it doing things his way—I certainly don't want him to stop. —Peter Margasak Strange Boys and Bitchin' Bajas open.

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