Ty Segall Band专辑介绍： So instructs Ty Segall before his band stumbles into the driving riff of Diddy Wah Diddy, a gloriously ramshackle, urgent track tucked away towards the end of Slaughterhouse, Segall’s second full length release this year. No more than two minutes in and the song has all but collapsed around his fevered yelps as he strains above the din to make his increasingly deranged, seemingly improvised, lyrics heard. The untamed, impromptu feel of Diddy Wah Diddy pervades the entirety of Slaughterhouse. It’s a microcosm of the album as a whole: gleefully dumb, spontaneous, catchy and really fucking loud. Following his more subdued recent releases – Hair, recorded in collaboration with White Fence earlier this year and Goodbye Bread, his last solo record – Segall sounds entirely reinvigorated on Slaughterhouse, and it’s an injection of life symptomatic of the context in which the record was produced. This is the first album Segall has recorded with his regular touring band, and the chemistry between the group’s members is nothing short of electric. With a sound not far removed from that of 60s garage rockers The Sonics (had only they had been raised on healthy servings of Steve Albini instead of 50s rock’n'roll) the Ty Segall Band produce a joyful cacophony of crunching guitars and thrashing drums atop their front man’s unpredictable half sung, half screamed delivery. At the heart of each sonic assault brought forth by Segall’s band there lies a vulnerable nucleus of simple melodic writing indebted to John Lennon and early Pink Floyd. And yet it is remarkably easy to be carried away by the commitment of the group’s playing. Indeed, throughout the album, volume and intensity are convincingly presented as legitimate alternatives to melodic development and lyrical depth. Ty Segall’s refusal to take himself seriously only adds to the charm. From a tongue-in-cheek pastiche of late 60s psychedelia on opener Death to Oh Mary’s recasting of Please Please Me era The Beatles into a noisy punk setting, Slaughterhouse is awash with irreverence and ironic gesture. Yet, behind this façade of flippancy and playfulness, the Ty Segall Band betray impressive levels of professionalism and a mutual understanding indicative of the months spent together on the road. Not that Segall’s band sound like a well-rehearsed, well-oiled operation, but there is enough control behind all the madness to ensure that the result remains just the right side of uncompromising. Even the ten minute freak out of closer Fuzz War fails to outstay its welcome. From first to last, the conviction with which these tracks are performed, the saturation of undeniable hooks and the irresistibly raucous playing combine to make Slaughterhouse one of the most visceral and downright enjoyable records to surface so far this year.