Bad garage is like bad grindcore or bad ska. With enough equipment, volume, and grooming, people are fooled easily enough. These modes are also three easy entrances into music. With garage, especially psyche, after all the pedals are bought and the instruments and haircuts are fussed over, good bands go on to tackle the ghosts, addictions, habits, sinew, miracles of headspace and timespace, the danger and dissolve, the tightened fists and skyless nights. One has to offer more than surface gloss, price tags, and logos if quality’s a consideration. The Ty Segall Band’s captured something powerful in Slaughterhouse. It’s hard to pinpoint and that’s where the pleasure in repeated listens is coming from. It’s a bad trip in the best way. The playing’s powerful, precise, and fucking huge. It sounds like it’s dragging chains and there’s no muffler on the exhaust. Dark star exploding. Not much light’s escaping despite the tremendous velocity. Jeez, this is great stuff. Hey Emily.
–todd (In The Red, intheredrecords.com)