The important thing to Ty Segall’s attraction is his sheer quantity—not by way of decibels however fairly his artistic output. “Hiya, Hello” is his 14th correct solo album however that quantity balloons if his collaborations, cassette-only releases, cowl albums, stay information, and different miscellanea get added to the combination. Fixed movement does not depart a lot time for reflection and, fittingly, there isn’t a lot room to breathe inside Segall’s music: It’s a flurry of fuzz tones and frenzied, frenetic rhythms, all tied along with trippy melodies.
Some gnarly guitars rear their ugly heads on “Hiya, Hello”, however it’s principally a departure for Segall, bringing the 35-year-old songwriter to quieter environs the place he can choose an acoustic guitar and harmonize with himself. The shift could be attributed to the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic if it weren’t for the truth that it’s the second full album he has launched for the reason that coronavirus outbreak, preceded by cloistered noise of 2021’s Hamonizer.
“Hiya, Hello” shares a primary origin story with Harmonizer. Each albums had been recorded at Harmonizer Studios, a workspace Segall put in in his residence in Topanga, California. On Harmonizer, he waded by thick smears of synths and guitar grime. Right here, he’s weaving plucked and strummed acoustic devices guitars into tapestries accentuated by layers of harmonies and the occasional noisy squall. It’s like a photograph adverse of a typical Ty Segall report; each acquainted element is in place, they’re simply offered in a distinct shade that makes it clear what colourful components are lacking.
Sudden actions, clattering rhythms, and Segall’s devilish humorousness could also be absent, however the calmer environment focus consideration on the candied harmonies and sweeter melodies. It is a soundtrack for overcast days, not sunny carefree afternoons. Typically, Segall’s reedy warble resembles the elfin trill of Marc Bolan, notably on the smooth, spartan settings of “Blue” and “Don’t Lie.” For a musician as steeped in glam and storage as Ty Segall, such T. Rex allusions are actually deliberate, and whereas they’re nice, even charming, these nods wind up highlighting how a lot of his work stems from this formative affect: He is lastly labored his approach again to the ’60s and delivered his personal Tyrannosaurus Rex report.
There are actually pleasures in such fan worship. Ty Segall is an skilled craftsman, sequencing albums so the gaps of silence—such because the sluggish crawl that acts like a fanfare on “Good Morning”—have as a lot affect because the burly guitars on the title observe. This sleek ebb and stream is clear on particular person cuts like “ You,” the place a mild folky guitar phrase expands and contracts with more and more forceful overdriven guitars. And but, it’s greatest appreciated holistically. The useless area and repetition are what give the album its momentum, and the ambling detours have an idiosyncratic appeal that belongs completely to Segall.
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