Before Ty Segall recorded "Girlfriend", a gem from last year's Melted, he channeled sounds we don't normally associate with humans. Through polluted streams of distorted guitar, you could hear him convulse, spitting wordless sounds as a bubblegum drumbeat took hold. It was evil, it was scary, and it sounded like demons were controlling his organs and limbs. "Girlfriend" was a glorious blast of fuzz, here and gone in just over two minutes. It both demonstrated Segall's gift for economy as well as perfected the tone for his work since he left his Epsilons outfit to make music on his own. But Melted as a whole made loud and clear that he was capable of more than just dishing out hard-charging hooks at blazing speeds. He was uncovering an innate understanding for craft as well.
In Goodbye Bread, his first full-length for Drag City, Segall has embraced singer-songwriter craft wholeheartedly. While garage rock O.G.s like the Troggs and the Stooges continue to be an influence, Segall has turned in a relatively calm effort here, choosing to downshift into slower tempos and cleaner sounds, evoking instead the work of John Lennon, Neil Young, and Marc Bolan. Heavyweights. But what makes Goodbye Bread such a success is that we get an even keener sense of what a Ty Segall song sounds like and what that means. Jay Reatard, whose wild-child persona has often been linked to Segall since the former's passing last year, proved that it takes a little more to stand out in this sphere. The same dark energy that set "Girlfriend" in motion can be heard here in varying forms, whether in the enormous chorus of "My Head Explodes" (a head-bangers delight), the wheelie-popping solo that slices through "Comfortable Home (A True Story)", or the sweaty, shivering verses of "You Make The Sun Fry". Though Goodbye Bread rarely takes a direct route, the thrill becomes much more about the ride from start to finish, than the speed or force of impact.
He achieves this by playing around with notions of pace and structure, as shown by the opening title track. It's a strummy early statement that's altogether very different from what he's shared before. Segall's vocals no longer sound like they're broadcast from the bottom of a well, the guitars are warm and bright, and its melody is vibrant in a very simple, patient manner. "California Commercial" is a basher that plods along happily before taking flight on some tightly coordinated guitar lines in the homestretch. And take a look at the run times here and you'll see some welcome variety, too. At first listen, "I Am With You" seems a bit aimless over its four minutes, but the way Segall transitions from crescendo to detour to crescendo to left turn to mangy solo proves deliciously inventive upon closer listens.
Goodbye Bread is filled with such rich, breathtaking moments, and Segall, who plays every instrument here, sounds as though he's savoring every part of his process. On the slightly creepy "You Make the Sun Fry", there's joy in how he rhymes "love me still" with "your Coupe De Ville." Same goes for the way he locks together the chiming guitar licks that carry "I Can't Feel It" home and the thundrous drum fills that punctuate "My Head Explodes". It sounds like he's having a blast, excited with every sound and riff he finds, even as he slows down to zoom in on the details.
