Ty Segall + White Fence - Joy

Ty Segall is, to put it lightly, a polarising figure musically. His album bedfellow, White Fence, is no exception in this manner. Loath as I am to use this tired metaphor, they are somewhat akin to Marmite: you are either entranced by the kaleidoscopic music or puzzled by the madness, Unfortunately for the duo’s latest album Joy, its the latter. The magic of the partners first co-album Hair, wherein their talent and musicianship flowed as seamlessly as diffusion, now seems alien when compared to the co-writing of Joy, which is more reminiscent of oil and water.

My first play-through was a struggle as Joy feature a gruelling 15 songs in just under 32 minutes. I am hesitant to judge an album on its runtime but it is noticeable enough to warrant commentary. Somehow managing to feel both rushed AND excessive, Joy is a clear victory for quantity over quality, with only one song over five minutes and three songs under one. Feeling more like a vanity project than an album, or even an album in which a band puts out there “previously unreleased B sides” (yeah because they were good enough to NOT release the first time), Joy is sure to leave all but the hardcore fans dumbfounded, especially after Segall’s impressive January release Freedom Goblin.

It is, however, disingenuous to suggest that the entire album is a wash, as the ambition and implication deserve admiration if nothing else. The ideas are good and every song has, at least, an enjoyable verse. However, the execution is puzzling, as the best songs on the album sound remarkable but are muted amidst Joy's storm of pretension. For instance, the harmonising vocals of  Good Boy sound like an early Beatles record but with an unsettling, mesmerising edge, tinged with surfy riffs and a slow building crescendo that simulates a Led Zeppelin concert. Furthermore, the bluesy opening of A Nod, coupled with its dreadfully funny lyrics and bedrock of tribal drums and chunky bass lines plus the shock to the system of Body Behaviours unbalanced vocals and heart attack guitar riffs demonstrates that the magic is still very much there. I just wonder where the rest of it is.

At its best, Joy is psychedelic and weird, but also touching. It is here, when Segall and Fence talk to their fans as opposed to waxing lyrical at them, that the album shines. Steeped in the magic of the 60s and the sounds of California, Joy's highs truly soar. Tragically these moments are few and far between. What’s most disappointing about the album, however, is not what they put in it, but rather what was left out. The talent is there, we've seen it before, and we can hear it from time to time, but there is a lack of conviction, or perhaps ideas, present. The album, unfortunately, was not a Joy.