.

.

15.10.12

Ty Segall Interview (Ladygunn Nostalgia Issue, Fall 2011)


From a grimy Laguna Beach surfer kid to a San Francisco garage rock fixture, with four studio albums and a handful of side projects in between, Ty Segall has certainly helped define and revamp a genre. Grabbing the attention of PitchforkSPIN, and Rolling Stone with his deluge of harsh, lo-fi records, the 23-year-old artist began his summer with the release of the mellower and “more groove-based” Goodbye Bread (2011). After an insane year of touring including FYF, Outside Lands, and a period in Europe, I got to catch up with Segall on the day of his sold-out show at The Bowery Ballroom.

Ladygunn: So you were on tour for pretty much the whole summer up until now, how’s it going?

Ty Segall: It’s good. You know, we’ve been basically touring almost nonstop for a year and a half. We kind of all quit our jobs halfway through.
Oh, really? What did you do?
I made cabinets.  Yeah, it was cool, but not as cool as going on tour. But yeah, it’s been really great, really tiring, and awesome. There’s that thing where you have to realize you need to take a break. Go home and buy some groceries, you know? So yeah, that’s where I’m headed. Need to buy some groceries, make salads and stuff. 

You’re playing with Mikal Cronin from The Moonhearts. Did that just come about because you two were in Epsilons together and did Reverse Shark Attack

Yeah, he was working on his solo stuff for a while and he recorded it, and it was just kind of the thing where like ‘Dude my record’s coming out and I’m going on that tour, so come on tour with me man.’ And also, he plays bass in my band.  So I was like, ‘Dude, if you want to do double duty, let’s do this.’ 
Did you help out with his record?
Yeah, I helped record it with our friend Eric Bauer, who did my record Melted, and he recorded Goodbye Bread too. He’s also done a lot of Sic Alps, Thee Oh Sees, and The Mantles and Grass Widow—a bunch of stuff. He’s awesome. 

With Goodbye Bread, it’s a lot different from your past albums—way more slowed down and relaxed. Why did you go in that direction, or what spurred that?

Well, I guess just you know, you got to mix it up every once in a while. I just didn’t want to make another really like aggressive or abrasive record. I just think I’ve made mostly those. I wanted to try my hand at focusing on the lyrics, maybe looking at it more seriously. So that’s what I was trying to do.
Is that why you spent a little more time working on it than you normally would?
Yeah, definitely. 

What’s up with the dog on the cover of Goodbye Bread?

My ex-girlfriend found that picture in Denmark, and it was just one of those things where as soon as I saw it I was just like, ‘That’s a record cover.’ Because honestly it looks just like the record sounds to me. 
Yeah, definitely the colors.
Yeah, this vibrant but kind of melancholy, almost sad dog. Like this lovable and awesome dog, but he’s kinda sad. I don’t know, it just fit. 

What bands and musicians are you listening to a lot right now?

Sighs. Way too much stuff. Human Eye, Mikal. Pauses. I don’t man I’m all over the place, but I’ve been really listening to like all the old school stuff I used to listen to all the time. It’s kind of cycled back, like Black Sabbath and really heavy music like Pentagram. I’ll throw some black metal in there. I’m kind of not listening to very much garage rock at the moment; I’m kind of burnt out on that stuff. More like super tripped out psychedelic music, funk and soul and reggae, and whatever, punk, The Dead Boys. 

What’s your favorite band from the 70s?

Dude, they’re all—so many good bands. I would probably say Black Sabbath, because they’re just like one of my favorite bands. 

What are your creative influences?

My friends. Watching my friends do awesome stuff. When you’re there watching someone, like I got to watch Thee Oh Sees go from a band where like 50 people were there at their shows, to then all of a sudden I’m at Great American Music Hall in San Francisco with 800 people freaking out. Just that moment of like ‘Holy shit, that’s amazing.’ Like that’s the kind of thing where I’m like, ‘Fuck, I got to step my game up.’ Or like watching my buddy Mike Donovan from Sic Alps record a vocal track and then play it back and be like, ‘Wow, that’s fucking insane.’ You know, that kind of a thing. Plus like all the music I’ve ever listened to.  But, you know, your life and your friends. At least for me. 

What did you listen to in high school?

In high school I was just really into like ’77 punk kind of stuff, and like early 80s hardcore. Also like surf music and rock ‘n’ roll, garage rock like The Sonics and The Troggs and The Kinks.  I was way into The Kinks; they’re still like one of my favorite bands. I don’t know, I was just a surfer skateboarder kid, so Black Flag and The Ramones, and stuff like that. 

I know you graduated from USF with a degree in Media Studies, but did you ever see yourself becoming a full-time musician?

No, never. It was never like ‘Oh, I want to be a musician!’ It was like ‘Wow, I really want to put out a record.’ Then once you put out a record it’s like ‘Holy shit, now I really want to play some shows.’ Then you’re like, ‘Whoa, now I want to go on tour.’ Then you’re like, ‘Wait, now I get to make another record!?’ Before you know it then you’re like, ‘Holy shit, I’m in New York. I’m on tour, this is what I do as a job.’ It’s like ‘What the hell?’ I always thought I was going to be some like, I don’t know. I wanted to be a recording engineer, and I still want to do that, but I always thought I would just work at a clothing store or something like that. I’d be figuring it out for 10 years, that kind of style. So I’m really happy it turned out this way. 

Yeah, definitely. Do you have any more projects coming up, or are you working on your next album?

Yeah, I got a lot of stuff going on. You know that band White Fence? They’re really, really great. Tim—it’s mainly this dude Tim Presley. Their first two records are the two best records that have come out in the past couple years. Yeah, but we’re doing a collaborative record. Like him and I are basically just writing songs and recording them together. It’s going to come out on Drag City in like maybe February or March. We’re almost done, like 75% done. Then I’m doing a record for In the Red, like an eight song record with the whole band. That’s gonna fucking rule because usually I play everything on the records, but they’re the best so I was like, ‘Dude, what the fuck? Let’s have a record with everybody on it.’ Like live in the studio, so it’s really cool we get to go record that with Chris Woodhouse who did Thee Oh Sees record and stuff. And then, I’m doing another LP with Drag City that I’m working on. 

Since you’re only in town for one night, what do you when you come to New York City?

Usually, accidentally, we all get way too drunk, and then like freak out over the humidity. It’s like ‘Oh shit,’ one of those things where you’re like, ‘What the hell?’ But I have a couple of really close friends here and we usually just hang out. It’s one of those things where I don’t really get to see them unless I’m around or they come to San Francisco, so it’s not like we go do any touristy things or go bar hopping or whatever. We just buy a 12 pack and you know.

Selling out The Bowery Ballroom, that’s wild. Has that ever happened to you before?

We’ve sold out places, but this is crazy. It’s huge, like we’ll play something this size in San Francisco, but that’s about it. Maybe LA, but like New York for some reason, it’s so crazy. To sell out a show in New York, it’s a feat. It’s tough here. I remember the first time people moved at our shows here.  ‘Cause they were like (crosses arms), ‘Yeah, it’s pretty cool. It’s got a lot of reverb, I like that. Pretty cool.’ But then there was like, (bobs head), this, and we were like, ‘Oh yeah look at this, I see some heads bobbing!’ And now this, so it’s cool. It’s awesome.  Holy shit. It’s pretty fucking cool.

What’s your favorite beach?

There’s a beach in Laguna Beach where I’m from called Totuava. You walk down 10th Street and go to the right and climb over some rocks. It’s this little place where my friends and I used to go all the time. It’s beautiful.

What do you get when you go to In-N-Out?

I get a grilled cheese Animal Style, well done fries, a side of peppers—you know—and extra spread. Sometimes if I’m feeling really crazy I’ll get a Neapolitan milkshake. Most of the time I stray from that, because it’s pretty gnarly. Sometimes I won’t get the fries and I’ll get two grilled cheeses, one Animal Style and one regular with extra onions. Pretty awesome.

What’s the best advice that you’ve even been given that you’d like to pass along?

‘It is better to be kind than right.’ That’s something my Dad told me. 

Photo by Jack Clarizio 

3.9.12

Alec (Cela)

Get that         get that right I said two, now two, grand slam breakfasts and
three (how did you do it?) 
three look at his face 
where he has cell service and I don’t and you don’t know 
California makes me believe in UFOs 
nice to meet you and meet me through u
you ...trippy..        do the BIGGEST bloom
keep the master musicians of jajouka in my head
it’s like drinking a sundress with Jesus sandals! open your mouth
spell your name backwards more interesting that way
than lonesomestone n’ fugazi on the bed again
I had a feelin yall were from other planets
or maybe just Hawaii
let’s get fog juice and get fogged up
add a spinning optical illusion to the end of my arm
when all parts of me are dreaming and you say it
Ms. Vander Hayden does sound like a scary name



15.12.11

Chapbook - Erasure






























The final products. I'm thinking about scanning the erasure in and PDFing the chapbook over break.

10.12.11

Trace

I.

I took the Bart yesterday and thought of you
riding bareback with the balm in the hand. He’s
mad, and yes, he’s
my brother mispronounced Rimbaud and Baudelaire
with little blue green strings in the sheets.
Call me shirtless, juggling
oranges in the kitchen is
Friday afternoon is getting things wrong is
stick your fingers down
my throat I don’t know, and you,
you look like a guitar too, but one made by Picasso. Oh think
you’re a piece of cake, huh?
They’re running down
across the water, watch for this.

II.

Then I became greedy there aren’t any
crab cakes in this painting the fury
fixation of do I dare disturb the universe? Well
I’m sitting like this, places get crowded
French stains on the pillows let it seep, won’t you let it
late for work. Here another
you down throwing countries,
get those bruises somewhere. Revival
the fittest orchid projects, imagine this please:
The Blue Boy watching, his Mother is afraid
she’s full of charm. Perfect train length
rip of the Renaissance Man,
bowed from the world
most everybody laughs now.


III.

Your reaction to a limp I kept
plastic on the pulse, you give yourself
goose bumps. Less details
be satisfied,
the next day, untouched. He takes lives,
splitting I’m getting lost in
insulting memory loss at the
aquarium pressed into the palm, bruise is
advice on my private life. A cross made of palm fronds
ask me to come home, you have to take off
your clothes scare beluga whales, illusion
how strange are you? I thought about
the ocean around you, instead people fell,
forced out by the heat.

IV.

Your metallic sheen of gold you had to
walk into when I only speak while you’re sleeping,
open up the foliage, nothing is fabulous
anymore than this slight slip. Down in
the rows pulse hydrangeas, keeping up
is irritated skin, is sore throat
something you feel guilty for? Talking in
cursive, see the era
a spruce of over-analysis. Even now
as they call you through white fences, bare
eagerness of gravitation
taut voice in motion, I ask you. Measure
your face through an automatic writer, witness
this time in the garden.

Parataxis

legs like flamingos
but worse, they’re as good as real
now who’s charming who
tripping down staircases
total gratification
of seeing our feet under the stalls
she remained an aristocrat
humid and sopping in there
even with the bathing suit
what do those ladies smell like
bleeding ulcers in a gown
watch them stagger
into the everyday
decorative and thrusting

greased-stained cotton
through a pinhole
teasing and quiet
the two have to meet
waiting in the same line
a mutual pretending of the familiar
when the projector fell in love
she believes it, uninterested
he imagined unzipping a fleece jacket
pulling arm rests apart
it is that physical
trapped against an extra limb
following, exhausted
red tinges the cushion

a kind of hieroglyphic, skin
he was too bare-chested
rising from the kitchen floor
girls and wild horses
boys and wild horses
get stuck in swamps
during the time tile cracks
mold can multiply
as conversation promises
there the great adventure
not the same
dull and caked
an outline disappears
calls it the slopping of mud

clumps of hair in the drain
a small indication
christmas happened
iron traps
tease out the danger
of the living room as it dims
there is still a part in the pond
that his youth exists
stark and pulsating against the walls
no one could see straight
a sliver on the inner thighs
was too much for the internal hush
she crushes with her thumb
spitting and laughing

Some parataxis sonnets I wrote earlier this semester.