Three Bells
Album by Ty Segall
Released 26 January 2924
Psychedelic Rock / Garage Rock
Produced by Segall & Cooper Crain
Rating – 5/10
Ty Segall rarely tests himself on Three Bells.
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I’d happily call myself a fan of Ty Segall’s brand of rusting, rasping garage rock, but with Three Bells, there’s only so much laurel-resting I can take, especially given its hour-long runtime. I guess it’s my own fault for being so familiar with him…
Not to turn into a bitter old man and tell the kids that the Ty Segall of my day was better than the Ty Segall of their day, but give me an Emotional Mugger any day, with its twists and turns, its Equals cover, its stupid, sick energy – hell, give me a Fudge Sandwich, you know, his covers album, with menacing takes on John Lennon’s Isolation and I’m a Man by The Spencer Davis Group.
Any twists and turns on Three Bells may engage the Ty Segall newbie, but those loyal to the freedom goblin will see them coming a mile away – that’s not so twisty or turny. His slimy, grimy croaks remain, rinsing themselves over banal meltdowns composed of temper tantrums unable to read the room (Eggman), rhythmic switch-ups with little emphasis elsewhere (Watcher), complete mopes (Repetition – yeah, that’s the right title), and rusty acoustic frolics (To You).
The Bell presents unearthly folk with weird chords and percussive patter. It’d be far-out but Ty grimaces through the whole thing, including its switch-up in tempo. He grimaces through I Hear, his chestless take on ‘70s guitar jams; the guitar rips like Junior Marvin, but the bass and drums meet a funk-less stalemate, too grungy to groove, amounting to the desperate blues Segall has become known for – there’s an idea in there, but most if it is stagnant.
But the fifteen-song tracklist isn’t a total collection of warts. His unearthly folk adopts a freakbeat on Void, containing cerebral interplay between acoustic guitar and rhythm section, Zeppelin-ish. Ty brutalises with one of his best examples of reminiscence on Wait, actually using his garage rock background to stem a chaotic guitar solo finale, following some of his sweeter chords that make the listener aware he isn’t totally wooden. Hell, his woodenness would ruin My Room, but as unenthusiastic as he sounds on it, it is the album’s most complete-sounding composition.
Not all of his vocals are unenthusiastic; his dedication to falsetto refreshes Hi Dee Dee, his dinginess sounds like it belongs on the toil of What Can We Do, and when he opts out, he recruits wife Denee to sing, suiting the juiced-up alligator riff of Move with a dystopian tone.
But he still mumbles over the part-Radiohead, part-classic psychedelia monologing of Reflections, and over the Material Girl-like melodies of My Best Friend. He loves a good mumble, even when his instruments refuse to, he takes a baseball bat of mumbles to their faces, and it’s something we’re starting to become accustomed to where Ty Segall’s output is concerned. The highlights of Three Bells either detour away from Ty’s defaults or add a little more meat to them, but there isn’t enough of it to justify the unexplainable quantity of his fifteenth album.
Best tracks – Void – Wait.
Weakest track – Eggman.
Rating – 5 out of 10
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