Harmonizer
Ty Segall’s turn toward synths isn’t as dramatic a renovation as it sounds. If anything, the revelation of *Harmonizer* is that his writing is distinctive enough that you could recognize him in just about any costume: hooky, direct, and psychedelic, but with just enough of a hint of horror-movie eeriness to keep you unsettled. And as different as garage rock might seem from the minimal gleam of the music here (the loose and organic versus the mechanical and impassive), the connection lies in science-fictive questions of what makes us human in the first place: Our freedoms? Our routines? Our wildest impulses, or our ability to control them? The historical touchpoints remain familiar: T. Rex (“Pictures”), early King Crimson (“Whisper,” “Erased”), the queasy soundtracks of Italian giallo movies (“Ride”), mixed with both inspiration and historical precision. And if you miss the shredding, just remember that the hum of the fridge at night is plenty psychedelic if you listen deeply enough.
His first album in forever (two years)! Ty glides smoothly into a wild area with a synthtasm of production redesign, dialing up a wealth of new guitar and keyboard settings. A seething statement of emotional austerity, Harmonizer enraptures the ear, while enabling Ty to cut through dense undergrowth, making groove moves for the body, mind and soul.
The tireless psych rocker’s latest is simultaneously sleek and sludgy. It’s not quite his cleanest-sounding album, nor his heaviest, but it stands close to the top of both categories.