Ty Segall and White Fence
Blonde and brunette. Dog and cat. Lemon and onion. Friend and foam. The change has been made! You can scratch your seven-year itch freely now: Ty Segall and White Fence are become one again, regrooving what we once called Hair into what is now Joy.
Hair grew out of a simpler time, man! If, as the dyphrenic duo indeed affirm on Joy, rock in 2018 is dead, don’t come around here looking for no burial. Instead, find Joy caught up in the commencement of on-beyond rock; music made with the old tools, but emitted from a fresh new, single-celled organism. This time, the old “one and one make one” line does not apply. Hair had the quality of emulsion — drops of Segall suspended in Fence; a compound of White dispersed over sheets of Ty. With Joy, Tim and Ty arrive without travelling from the same place, occupy one single headspace, finishing the other’s phrases, pulling licks from each other’s places. Singing and thinking and laughing as one. Calling themselves from inside the house. C-c-c-creepy!
Both these fellows have been known to trifle with tropic pasts and reactivate vintage visions within their new music. Not now. Now is the only time this time — Joy is their own sound of today, a shared individuality, prisming all possible stances into an unseamly metastasis that FLOWS for 15 ebbcentric tracks. Plus, since it ends at the beginning, it never has to stop. LOOP that shit!
"I have cyclops vision now. But I'm not a giant. I changed my name and body only, and stabbed my social nous in the right ear. I still read fear but there are no police this year. I can repeat the same dream. I can let birds talk to me. I'm in jail. I have love and a whistle. I lay where the lotus lay and then spring the frozen flowers on any giving day. I apologize to those put in the trees, but I was gathering the Cyclops reap.
In the span of 4 1/2 years. I've lived in two different apartments and have used three different rooms during this time. All in Echo Park, Los Angeles, CA, only a couple miles from one another. After the death of my father in 2008 I started writing and recording non-stop in these rooms. I can't say it was directly because of that trauma, but I think deep down it might have much to do about it. This record was initially going to be a collection of the many songs trapped between the 4 White Fence LP's. As I was putting that together, there were more coming. a better crop. I couldn't stop. So, instead of a retrospective I said "Fuck It". might as well use the most current songs of the bunch. For the exception of "Make Them Dinner At Our Shoes" which is from 2009."
—Tim Presley, White Fence