In a year where Ty Segall has already devoted one prior release with White Fence and promises a solo effort in the fall, he opted to record an album of impressive noisy rock with his touring band. And instead of trying to make it seem as if Segall is channeling the Stooges, a la Funhouse, the house that Segall has created is yet another one down a steady stream of releases diehards have grown to love from the passionate musician. See, Segall makes music as someone that knows the validity of staying current and active, and while it’s taken a while for some to jump on the bandwagon, Slaughterhouse surely melts away any kind of lingering feelings in light of a darkly rollicking good time.
With his touring band behind him, Segall takes us on a tour de force that is short and succinct in nature and delivery: the music swells with an infinite amount of pulse and drive and supported by Segall’s remarkable ear for melody, it’s simply another winner in his long-standing discography. On his debut for Drag City, Goodbye Bread, Segall fused the garage rock he’s known for with an almost folksy combination; on “My Head Explodes” he sounded reflective while destroying the canvas in a Queens of the Stone Age-like romp. A year later, his solo effort will probably defy many and reveal more poignant songs, for this endeavor as the Ty Segall Band, Slaughterhouse makes it a mission to destroy anything in its path. Taking the musician at face value, Segall called his music on this album as “evil space rock” and naturally, he’s spot on in describing his own music.
Starting with the massively engrossing “Death,” Segall forges on with clashing guitars and bass and his drummer, Emily Rose Epstein, pounds away at the drums with a clear focus on one goal: death by destruction. The band takes Segall’s music and adds an element of surprise where the evil nature of the space rock is taken to new measures – songs fly in and out of the spectrum we call rock and explore both the garage and noisy tendencies Segall is known for. Though Slaughterhouse is intended to be a sort of messy explosion, there is always Segall’s shining comedy as he screams on “Diddy Wah Diddy” and its hyperdrive tempo and before, on “Tell Me What’s Inside Your Heart” he introduces an exceptional guitar melody before the punk side of rock comes shining through. It’s both an exercise in skill and dexterity that Segall has been showcasing for many years now and Slaughterhouse is no different.
On his breakthrough, 2010’s Melted, Segall featured a song called “Sad Fuzz” where he started out with a sludgy guitar before crying out “Please don’t be sad my baby no…you know you’re mine, oh yeah you’re mine,” to a naturally fuzzy demeanor that showcased a double-tracking of his voice and a driving force of psychedelic rock. On Slaughterhouse he ends the ceremonies with the ten-minute journey “Fuzz War”: another noisy concoction of pounding sludge and well, fuzz. This time around the introduction is beguiling and noticeably a precursor to the music’s muscular sounds; Segall pieces the song together through fantastic touches that all sound timely and stirring. The guitar treads on a discord that sounds both dissonant and menacing and the music is both invitingly grimy and typically lo-fi. Throughout his tenure as one of music’s hardest-working artists Segall hasn’t lost any luster and even with a touring band at his side, he is still the star of the show.
The sky is the limit for someone like Segall, who isn’t afraid to continue his craft with undeniably spirited efforts. It’s terribly hard to pinpoint where his strongest music will come from because every release has been a brilliant representation of rock and its myriad facets. With Slaughterhouse Segall has delivered another gem and fortunately for us, it looks like he has many more up his sleeve.