Review: Apparently not content with making an album that floored classic rock fans old and young - last year's solo psych-glam masterpiece 'Redeemer', Ty Segall here deals out his second heavy-ass power-trio masterclass with a band who effortlessly transcend any notion of being a 'side-project'. Whilst certain ingredients are audible from Segall's other work, such as his sparky and infectious knack for melody and love for the seamier sonic landscapes of the early '70s, 'II' is no less than a timeless blast of garage-birthed intensity, a double album brimming with gusto and chutzpah, yet with an expansive approach to match their hard-rocking drive, proving there's more to this band than distortion boxes and ruptured eardrums.
Fools Fold Their Hands (Grievous Evils Under The Sun) (3:48)
Review: Expert wanderers of the Spinal Tap-approved 'fine line between stupid and clever' that exists in all great rock 'n' roll, this Californian troupe have here delivered that least punk-rock of conceits, a concept album, yet delivered it with such chutzpah, irreverence and fiery finesse that they traverse boundaries of genre and expectation with east. Whilst this album was described by the band themselves, somewhat dauntingly it must be said, as "a near fable of fear, sexuality, war, religion, technology, peace, philosophy, hedonism, sociology, evolution, and ecclesiasticism," it should also be pointed out that over-cranked amps, addictively glammy songcraft, psychedelic vortexes of sound and a distinctly timewarped aesthetic that cherry-picks the greatest moments of the '60s and '70s in a deathless quest for axe-wielding rock supremacy also play more than a small part here. Fans of Ty Segall (with whom members of this band frequently collaborate) take note.
Review: Here be monsters. Less than twelve months after their debut on Ty Segall's God? Label, this bunch of LA-based miscreants have delivered a punishing and potent sermon of super-heavy psyched-out garage rock that effortlessly sidesteps the more yawnsome cliches of recent times in favour of an incandescent assault of speaker-blowing riffage and cosmically-aligned songcraft that is as damaged by Melvins and Electric Wizard as it is by the Flaming Lips and the aforementioned Mr. Segall. Equally adept with both glam-tinged melody and black-cloud ampstack dementia, 'Golem' is a wild ride to starry oblivion.