Going to take a brief break from the grouping of albums by the same artist/band/label to focus on another theme: some of my favorite new records. It can’t all be about music from 40 and 50 years ago, not when some of my favorite current artists have released some of their strongest work to date. And there’s no better way to kick that off than with Ty Segall, who after some interesting experiments with limitations on previous records (no guitar, acoustic, film soundtracks) has returned to his progressive garage roots with the fantastic double album Three Bells. It’s Segall operating in my favorite sonic space, and sounds like a culmination of a lot of the experimentation he’s engaged in the past few years.

Recorded in his home studio, it’s largely a solo affair with some of the usual gang making brief appearances: notably his wife Denée taking lead vocals on one track, Emmett Kelley and Mika Cronin taking bass duties on a few songs, and his Fuzz partner Charles Moothart (who also has a really solid album out this year) guesting on drums for a track. But for the most part it’s Segall handling it all, and the kickoff track “The Bell” is a prime example of everything I love about Segall’s music: the opening acoustic guitars have a hazy, psychedelic quality that is offset by the unique drumming pattern he lays down, and his voice – an acquired taste for some – is wonderfully doubled in the chorus before the tempo kicks up and takes the song to a new place. The middle break with the solo is a great rhythmic change up, and his voice bouncing around the soundstage takes the track to new off-kilter levels. Production is outstanding: check out the finger slides on the guitar strings during the Bowie-ish “Space Oddity” section when Segall counts down. It’s also the signal for the song to kick into overdrive, becoming a fuzzed out rocker on par with his heavier moments on albums like Slaughterhouse. Maybe my favorite opening track of his, ever.

The rest of Side 1¹ is just as tasty. “Void” has a circular riff that’s punctuated with keyboard stabs before moving into its verses. More Bowie allusions: the disembodied piano that reminds me of “A Small Plot of Land” from Outside. Segall’s drumming is fantastic, and his ear for production makes everything sound real and weighty and in the room with you, especially when listening on headphones. “I Hear” could be a single, and feels like some of the more accessible tracks in Segall’s catalog, a catchy guitar hook despite some truly warped sounds coming from the bass and keyboards. When the music blasts off in a wall of static it’s brief, a funky electronic collapse before rebounding to tackle Segall’s lyrics themes of depression and isolation, but being saved by a song.

Side 2 starts with the slinky funk of “Hi Dee Dee” and the fuzz pedal is pushed hard on this pop rock confection. Love the twisted mashed effect on the drums during the break. Sometimes you just want to hear Segall having fun. “My Best Friend” is another ode to his pets, similar to “Fanny Dog” which opened Freedom’s Goblin. It’s another fun rocker with a catchy riff, and a fun video to boot:

The break gets a little abrasive in its distortion, but I can’t deny the sweet hooks that come before and after the blizzard of sound. “Reflections” takes inspiration from its own title, taking things down a notch and being a more introspective track, Segall singing about the masks wee wear and investigating identity…something this blog can relate to. That leaves “Move” to close out the first disc of material, and it’s the track that features Segall’s wife Denée on lead vocals. It’s an angular, almost angry buzz of a song, different from the work the two do in The C.I.A. which Denée fronts (also featuring Emmett Kelley). It works for me, though. Her voice is a calming presence in an otherwise buzzing, frenzied song that’s almost more chaos than tune.

The second disc of music has a raucous riff to kick off “Eggman”; the vocals – doubled – bring a menacing threat to the track. I don’t exactly know why it’s called “Eggman” but the video certainly relishes the concept. The track slowly winds down in speed but increases in chaos, and honestly it’s the first track where I can take it or leave it; it’s also a weird way to kick off a side but as noted by my less enthusiastic friends, I forgive a lot when it comes to Segall. Much more successful is the happy pop of “My Room” with hooks to spare and a sweet jangly guitar ringing throughout. “Watcher” is another ominous track, slowing down the album but really digging into its guitar line covering the upper registers while the bass crawls about below. I’m a sucker for a good fuzz tone: my office is littered with various fuzz pedals, and hearing it all over this track in various tonalities lights me up in a way the song probably doesn’t intend, but that is the thing about music – one it’s released it’s now your relationship to it that matters, no one else’s.

Yeah, not even the artist, really.

“Repetition” only has the following line: “Repetition, ringing…” and yeah, it is repetitious, but I dig the percussion and the weird tone Segall gets for his solo. There’s a ton of space to these songs, so everything is crystal clear without sounding processed, and I’m again reminded about how important the drums and percussion are to the overall song the older I get.

The final side of Three Bells starts with “To You” and there’s a tension as the vocal melody fights for space with the snare before we get some odd beeps and boops from the synths. 5/4 time in the verses solidifies the progressive label for the diehards, and then swaps back to common time during the break of “just keep singing…” but the bass drops the last note to provide an interesting seven count to the beat. At least that’s how my brain interprets it. “Wait” is mostly acoustic until it’s not, another gentle love song made more interesting by the fuzz creeping in before blowing into heavy stoner rock. I dig the lyrics on this one, more straightforward than most. At almost six minutes “Denée” may as well be the closing prog epic, with only “Void” beating its runtime. The lyrics are simply Denée’s name over and over again, the instruments picking up the pitch and sounding along with Segall. The track starts simple but gradually grows in scope and ambition until the music hits peak prog. It’s interesting to note this is one of the fuller band tracks, with Emmett Kelley taking on bass duties and Ben Boye handling keyboards (he also played on “Move” featuring Denée). Percussion once again takes center stage, and the extended jam of the song really works as a unique way to close the album out.

But it’s not quite closed, because there’s still “What Can We Do” and it’s out of tune acoustic folk stride. Hand claps, pronounced hi-hat, and a question of what to do when it’s all over and the sun is down. A voice responds “I know what to do…me and you” and it’s as much an invitation as a closing.

I’ll take it.

¹ Is there some secret magic around how we label sides on vinyl? Why do some folks use letters vs. numbers? Maybe I’m reading too much into this…