by Zak Mercado (@ciaoguaglione)
Though Ty Segall mostly operates under the guise of a solo project, he has had many collaborators. As one of the figure heads of 21st century California psychedelic rock, he’s released music with White Fence, Cory Hanson, and Mikal Cronin, just to name a few. All are formidable songwriters and fairly well-known entities to their musical community. However, the most underrated and unsung of all Ty’s collaborators is Denée Segall, Ty Segall’s wife. She is the likely muse for songs like “My Lady’s on Fire” and “She.” She has also previously been featured on several of Ty’s songs as a main vocalist: “Feel Good” and “Meaning,” to name a couple. Denée, in her own right, leads a project with Ty and his frequent collaborator Emmett Kelly — the C.I.A. — and is a photographer. Throughout Ty’s career her presence has been fairly visible, but likely understated to the casual listener. Ty and Denée Segall’s creative partnership hits a true peak with Ty’s newest “solo” album, Three Bells.
This record has Denée singing and co-writing more songs with Ty than seen before on his solo records. Their combined lyric writing presents a fine contrast between both of their interests and shared domesticity — both the mundanity and intimacy: “And when we’re shopping/and making up our bed/nobody seems to notice/the things we might’ve said,” sings Denée on “Move.”
On “Denée,” Ty sings her name like a children’s nursery rhyme or mantra, revealing to himself different aspects of her name. Ty’s seeking to understand his loved one and creative partner is garnished with cyclical, dualing electric pianos on the left and right channels. Chanting her name means addressing her, acknowledging her, and understanding her, both in familiarity and alienation. Elsewhere, to whining electric and acoustic guitars with chunky effects on “I Hear,” Segall sings "But when she sings a song and looks back at me/I think maybe she’ll listen to the song she gave me”. Ty seemingly shows a willingness to pass Denée (or a similar character) the songwriting reins, perhaps with some initial hesitation.
Where, Denée’s presence feels less felt on this record, Ty seems to continue to incrementally expand his musical lexicon. On opener, “The Bell,” lyrically, Ty introduces the overarching theme of the album – three mystical bells. This is set to some simple proggy drum beats and fairly tame acoustic guitar, but the musical themes evolve. The acoustic guitar becomes more aggressive; then twin guitars go on their own runs. On “To You,” Ty makes several changes of pace, emphasized with mellotron sounds, pretty “lah lah lahs,” and the jittery, frenetic guitars longtime Segall fans will be familiar with.
On album highlight, “Wait,” Ty combines some of the domestic tenderness he and Denée share, along with some of the most excellent guitar-based craft he’s produced on recent albums. The heavy psychedelic rock, influenced vocally and tonally by Black Sabbath, bleeds through. The song moves from emotive – “Just reach out and put your hand in mine/Don’t leave me in this place/If I slip, I’ll fall forever” – to one of the best and controlled, sizzling guitar solos on the record – one guitar smooth and the other squawking, it burns brightly into a fade out.
In general, the passing of the lyric writing and, often, vocal duties, to his partner and collaborator, emphasizes the general musical direction Ty seems to be taking his project. Both this record and his previous album, “Hello, Hi,” share what feels like less of an urgency to arrive at a specific destination. This has been slowly unraveling over time. There was a point where Ty and the King Gizzard lads were in an unspoken competition to produce the most amount of gnarly garage-y or psychedelic records in a single year, but Ty has slowed his roll significantly. These last two records are absolutely excellent all around. They aren’t as hard hitting (maybe to the chagrin of some), but they are significant highlights of his career.
Yet Three Bells may very well go down as something obscured or unusual in Ty’s discography. It’s perhaps his most sincere record. This is Ty and Denée Segall’s “love” record. Moreover, it’s a kind of millennial love somewhat unseen but slowly building. Longer term relationships in that generation are beginning to be examined. With reflections like “Together, we can move,” Ty and Denée give hope to all of the failed romantics and yearners. This is true despite the quotidian and prosaic aspects that Ty and Denée present on Three Bells, in all their anti-glory. Even in that anti-glory, there’s a romantic core to having stability of a fully committed, dedicated partner and collaborator.