It's the Vinyl Countdown: #1 "Possession" by Ty Segall
Is it possible to be possessed by a record?
Open your heart. Drop the needle on the record. Hear that? Here comes the broom.
Sweep, sweep, sweep.
All the detritus and dropped lollies. Gone. All the desiccated plans and juiced up hate and broken promises and nervousness and worry and all the big bad of the big bad. Gone. All of that… [gestures to the air]. All of that… shit.
Sweep. Sweep. Sweep.
As regular readers know, because I drop this fact into conversation on the reg, my middle name is Joy. It seems only fitting that my #1 choice for my favorite record of the year embody that word. And it does so by showing us what music can do. By showing us that even dark narratives can be delivered with light if you get the notes right.
Delivered with joy. With an energy possessed by joy. See what I teed up there?
Ty Segall's “Possession” snuck up behind me, pulled a joy sack over my head, and yanked me into a room I’d half-forgotten existed. The joy room. (And there are many types of joy. We’ll get to that.)
When the hood was removed, I found myself surrounded by it. Melodies filled my consciousness. Strings and horns and harmonies and stuff to grab onto with my ears and heart and singing box. I loved it instantly.
It is a joyful sound. Are there joyful stories? Yes and no—some of these narratives are gentle in the ear but biting in the meaning—but there is joy found the music. Found in the both the joy of making and listening to music.
This record twisted its tendrils around my body and heart and brain and pulled me into that happy place. I am here, Now. I am In. In the swell, the updraft and soar and harmony and stir. The mix and churn and touch and roll. The duck and cover and rise and shine.
It is the sound of life.
Some background. My favorite stripe of Ty Segall—the only stripe I know, in truth, and he has many—is the Fuzz stripe. Until this record, I was firmly stuck in that lane of Ty. I didn’t venture out. Somehow, I managed to miss the Ty Segall solo years. I mean, I was AWARE of him, but I never really paid attention. But Fuzz? Fuzz was my Ty (and I was late to that too, by the way. I’m always late.) Proggy. Pyschy. A singing drummer. What more could you want?
No, Janeen. Not what more could you want. Think about what more there could BE.
Did you know Ty Segall has released—according to Wikipedia—SEVENTEEN studio records? I don’t know if that’s correct, since most articles I’ve read say it's only sixteen. Only, pfft! Slacker. SIXTEEN! And that number is purely Ty Segall. That doesn’t include Fuzz or releases from his other bands. And, if I’m using my finger counting fingers correctly, there are TEN other bands.
What an overachiever. Brilliant!
Ty Segall's work ethic is right up my alley. A few years ago, I set a mandate for myself. To be Prolific AF. Just make a lot of stuff and put it out there. I’ve since refined that directive to one of 'make less, but better.' But this is not about that.
Because if anyone embodies the idea of being Prolific AF, it’s Ty Segall.
Upon learning this (that he makes and makes and makes) and discovering there’s a whole planet of Ty Segall output I've never heard, you might think I’d've gone back and combed through his back catalog in readiness to listen to this record.
Nope. My approach to the record was to minimize the number of things I could compare it to in terms of his previous work. I approached it as a cleanskin. No labels. Well, aside from my Fuzz exposure. Oh, and someone, long ago, describing his sound to me as ‘very LA kid’ which tuned me away, instantly. It made me think ‘sad tanned boy’ for some reason. So a couple of pre-conceived notions to get past already.
I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but The Vinyl Countdown does have some loose rules. I’ve already broken one of those rules with that Geese record yesterday. Rule: First listen is a turntable listen. Thou shalt not stream nor listen to the album before it arrives. (The physical album delivery was very delayed, so I had no choice with Geese.)
I broke no rules for "Possession." I didn’t download the tracks from Bandcamp. I didn’t look for it on streaming. I did such a good job of avoiding pre-listening that I forgot I’d even ordered it at all.
The familiar cardboard flop of a vinyl shipping box on the landing (always a delightful sound), took me by surprise. I tore apart the box wondering what was inside, and there it was: "Possession" by Ty Segall.
You ever look at a record cover and try guess at what the songs might be about based on that? Some kind of experimental psych stoner jam outing, perhaps? Or indie emo?
The cover of "Possession" features a photograph of what appears to be a rusted-out car body in the woods.
My first thought was: “Looks oak-y.” My battles with poison oak are well documented. Let’s move on. I flipped it to the back cover. A clear sky over chaparral. Not sure where, but I’m assuming down LA way.
Based on what I know about the stories contained within now, I can look at this record sleeve and theorize: "Ah, the beautiful decay of the American story on the front. Open skies of American possibility on the back.” There are no wrong answers, right?
I put it on the turntable.
Instant. It was instant. It strolled into my brain and made itself right at home. There was no difficulty to it. It found no door to my heart to break down. It flowed into me like the smoothest of caramels. My skin absorbed it like lotion. My brain sucked at it like a fruity lollipop. You get it.
It just makes me SO HAPPY. It is a joyful record—did I mention my middle name is Joy? It’s pop (I'm never sure I know what Pop is exactly), but with a sort of refined and rough feel. Garage, but not in that rehearsal space way. It's rock. Solidly. But with the kinds of flourishes that elevate it to something else.
I’m going to lay it on even thicker in a minute, so hold on, but before I do that.
Ty Segall’s overachieving ways extend well behind his catalogue of releases. On this record, he plays guitar, bass, drums, piano, keys, percussion and, then of course he sings. About the only thing he doesn’t do is horns and strings. A quick scan of the credits on the inner sleeve and we can thank Mikal Cronin—who also handles saxophone duties—as well as the orchestral arrangements.
Lyric writing duties were a joint effort between Ty and his filmmaker friend, Matt Yoka, whom I have since learned has done many of Ty’s videos. Long time friends, they took a swing at a word-smithing collab for this.
The result is a mix of words and music that feel panoramic and cinematic. It’s indie film and short shorts. The music is glittery at times, and the arrangements vibrate. The record is packed with characters and stories and vibes taken from the pages of this here American experiment. Small stories. Big stories. Sad American stories and vibrant slices of the experience and scene. Supermarkets and California and witch trials. Yeah, I said witch trials. Oh. And buildings. Huh?
Patience.
Let me just get all this out of my body first because I’m bursting with more of it. Here comes the joyful aeroplane.
“Possession” is warm. But not comfort food. More like that sweet salvation of a blanket around your shoulders when you come in from the cold. It’s sweet. But not in that tooth decay way. It feels old and lived in but not dated. Casual and loose but not flipflops in dive bar. It has its own kind of buoyancy and bubbliness, but without being frothy or too fizzy.
All those things I just said sound insulting. Um…
It feels fuzzy and smooth. Rich and loved. It’s my ‘feel good’ hit of the year. It’s a sing along album. A get moving album. A pack your heart with the anti-biotic laced healing-gauze of melody and strings, and guitar screams and wails, and shreds, and walking bass lines and horns and life and some super hooky songs. And Ty Segall, harmonizing with his own sweet self.
I love this record like a teddy bear.
I love it like a friend.
I love it like my middle name.
And if yesterday's #2 choice was an album that seemed hell-bent on pushing me away (why are you resisting!), this record, my #1 choice fav record of 2025, takes the complete opposite approach.
With face warm and eyes soft, with swells and harmony and melody, it ambles on over to me with arms wide.
“Come on, get in here,” it says.
“Let’s hug it out together.”
Now. Let's go hug out some songs.
We ease on into the vibe with some pared down guitar strumming to kick us off, and a narrator—the store clerk behind the counter—observing the actions of his ‘sweet shoplifter.' A gal he is very much giving a pass to, to do her petty crimes.
There’s a playful feel to the craft and cunning of a shoplifter. Initially. Almost like a gunslinger but instead of a gun, she’s reverse slinging small pocketable goods. Shoplifting sounds cheeky and fun. We soon tweak that the rent is due and she’s got to put food on the table, and welcome to the economy, I guess.
She’s just tidying up the shelves in the way economic hardship demands.
Ty Segall’s voice layers in a sweetness that belies the harsh reality of this story. This is what her survival looks like, and the store clerk is not going to stop her. He just works there. It’s a commentary on poverty, hardship, capitalism, and grace. I think. I over-think.
The reasons why she does it may be financial, but we get a glimpse of something else.
She's a shoplifter, her eyes, they flicker
She's gonna clean thеm out
She's a shoplifter, but the rich gеttin' richer
It makes her wanna scream and shout
The song really builds into something special as strings and layered vocals come in. There’s some pretty stuff that’s very Beatle-esque in feel and maybe even story. A little like "She’s Leaving Home." There’s some simple guitar strumming here. A sax solo. Blow, horn guy, blow! Lovely.
And then comes the beautiful resolve and Ty harmonizing with himself. Her escape and the clerk’s longing to go with her.
Oh, my dear shoplifter
I beg you, don't leave me here
But through the door, she runs out, out
I can see her running. And him, leaning on the counter as he watches her tear across the parking lot. The sliding doors close. The air is quiet (for a beat). There will be no ‘stop thief’ today. Run, shoplifter! Run! The only thing chasing her is the music.
It chases us right into the title track. The note has barely faded out the door and into the parking lot as Side A, Track 2 “Possession” starts its engine.
A song about the Salen Witch Trials? Sign me up.
I love the gait of this one. The stride through the town of it, looking for witches. The woo sounds throughout are very early Beatles. And that is the second time I’ve mentioned The Beatles. I apologize. I don’t think the music is Beatles. But those woos. I see Paul’s face at the microphone every time.
The song. It’s a reckoning of power and driving force. It’s a finger point of a song. Those woos I just mentioned. I think they're the sonic manifestation of those finger points. Woo! You. Woo! There's one there! Woo! She's a witch!
I think, apart from painting a picture of accusatory frenzy and the danger of superstition when it gets out of hand, it’s also about the security and safety of being in a mob. When you’re not the one being accused, it’s easy to start pointing fingers. As long as they're pointing away from you.
The danger is you start to like the finger pointing. You get obsessed with the act. The more you point, the less the people you're pointing at seem real.
Hmm…
Strings and horns are prevalent, but the guitar lick threading all the way through and even the rock steady bass, that's what chugs it along. Little hold backs and pushes. All the story and imagery. It’s very witchy.
This song is a fine example of what I was trying to get at, in the intro. The juxtaposition of a joyful feel with a dark story. The Salem Witch Trials were a dark time, but the music and the…
Oh, possession
Oh, possession
Oh, possession
... refrain, make it sound fun. I mean, not for the witches, obviously.
It's like, "Hey, join in and accuse a witch with me. It’s fun!"
You, fingers out and
Come out, come and shout
Possession, oh, possession
Again, the horns. A little guitar twiddling in the background laying down the presence of the crowd. Twiddling is the technical term, by the way. Yeah, I know music.
"Thou shall not suffer a witch to live"
Heard in the halls of Harvard
The wonders of the world, unseen
Cotton spells woven by Jehovah's brothers
We’re all thirsty for confession. Someone else's. Is there anything more joyous than being part of a salivating mob, hungry for blood and swift justice?
Also, love this:
The magistrate, New England moist below him
Can you hear the bells?
The minister cloaked in black, he rings them
Yes, hear the bells, ring them straight to hell
Oh, ring the bells
The words slot so well into the music. Dare I say the words possess it and it possesses the words? Only if you want to be lame, Janeen.
Okay.
Ring that bell.
Point the finger.
I shall first point it at Matt Yoka, who wrote the lyrics for this one. It’s the only song on the record that’s not a co-effort. And now I shall point at Ty. The music he has whipped up in this giant cauldron of a song creates a massively potent potion.
[Points with even more pointedness]
Witches!
Here comes a groove. Drum fills and syrupy strolls enter our brains with Side A, Track 3: “Buildings”. It’s moody, it’s city at night, it’s beams of headlights catching the window-ed eyes buildings as they flash past. Lights on. Lights off.
Are those buildings judging you? Can he really see faces in these buildings? Is this just a paranoia song? A paranoia about pareidolia song?
You can't replace the look from the face of the buildings
They see through me, they know what I'm doing
I suppose it depends on how you look at it, and how you parse what you think they’re thinking as they’re looking at you. And if, in your conversation with them they help point you in the right direction, then more power to you.
They're bending, they point to where I'm going
Away from my troubles, I follow when I hear them say
"Don't stop, alright
You can make it tonight"
They say, "Get up
You got what it takes to ride"
Lyrically, it’s kind of strange but I love the vibe of this. It's a moody, nighttime energy. A moving through the city energy. Weird that it feels a lot like movement, yet it’s also about the stillness and watchful eye of buildings. That sounded weird. But I was thinking about immovable objects. Like the city and the cement of it—the one thing you can trust. They don't move so you can navigate with confidence. You can keep moving.
The movement of the song rolls on. I flash back to nights downtown in the back of a cab in Manhattan, heading back uptown to my apartment on E78st Street. One long avenue of red, red, red, red lights, then yours turns green and you take off and watch the road ahead as greens begin to light up in turn, all along the board of it. The hallowed green run. Smooth and flowing. Keep moving, keep moving.
Or… maybe this song is about our surveillance nation and cameras on buildings swatching you?
Nah, pareidolia. This is the wink. I’m winking back.
We launch into Side A, Track 4: “Shining” with a sharp guitar and another hearty woo! Not sure if this is an inuendo song or a song about a vintage, chrome-laden, silver grilled, classic American car. The coolest of American possessions depending on your affection for vehicles.
Is he talking about a car? Or a lover? Sounds like a car.
Brake dive
Drop-top
Buckle up
The possession of a car? Or the possession of a person? Car or cigar? Come on!
(Hey) Riding just for pleasure
(Hey) On my rubber city wonder
And this:
(Hey) Sitting on leather
(Hey) But your chrome feels better
(Hey) I'm a custom-wrapped sedan
And the chorus:
Yeah, you're shining
I see you reflect me
Yeah, you're shining
I want you to wrap around me
Tongue meet cheek. (That sounded weird, I apologize.) I probably have all that wrong. Maybe he just like cars?
'Cause when I look at you
I see what I want to be, yeah
Yeah, I'm shining
Chrome envy. Jealousy. All custom-wrapped Datsuns want to be 50s Chevrolet.
All interpretations aside (again, because mine are always wrong), great chorus.
There’s a nice chug and innocence to Side A's, Track 5: Skirts of Heaven (although methinks it might not be such an innocent encounter). And when the horns kick in, look out!
The brass. That’s what I respond to with this one. When I get to bit where they herald the arrival of… something, I feel it in my bones. That ‘da-dah-duh, da-da dah!’ is like an invite: please enter for your audience with… whomever and wherever this version of a heavenly place is.
Hand up the skirt of a person or country? What?
Well, if you take it as straight inuendo, then it’s obvious. But what if, what if?
What if the 'land' the lyrics describe is actual land? And since this record is about American stories, what if it’s about reaching for the ideal of America? We’re at the skirts of it, skirting around the possibility of it. Is it fake? What exactly are we skirting at the edge of?
Every rise and bend
Every myth, legend
The skirts of Heaven
And what hand is going to slap us away? The pacing of this delivery is particularly halting and effective.
Untouchable by hand
Of any man or woman
The skirts of Heaven
It’s also catchy as hell. The whole album is stuffed to the gills with hooks. I love the beats and brassiness of this one. The heavenly of it.
As an aside, it’s normally standing at the gates of heaven, so what are Ty and Matt saying here? Saying skirts instead of gates does allow it to have the two interpretations that I have given it. Or maybe that second interpretation—the American ideal one—resonates with me because I’m in a certain kinda mood this year. Has our resiliently naive and hopeful hand been slapped away for good now? Denied!
Weary, weary
She will let the night commence
And when she tells me to wake up
Mother breaks the silence
Mothеr breaks the silencе
Oh. He just got caught in her room.
I retract my previous theory.
If side A was the decay, side B is the wide-sky glory of it. The uplifting part. The carry on of it. The, ‘eh, what can you do? This is just the way it is' part.
Well, that doesn’t sound joyful, Janeen. I know, but it is.
It is the human condition. We persevere. We continue. We accept our tomb of fate and get along.
With the record flipped over, we begin with my hands-down favorite song on “Possession,” Side B’s, Track 1: “Fantastic Tomb.” It’s a tale of a heist gone wrong, and while it begins simply enough, where it ends up is somewhere else entirely.
The start—in both the feel and the words—sets the scene for us. No fuss. It’s all exposition at this point. To get us to the bit where I fall in love.
The song opens in a bar, where our hero is propositioned with the tempting idea to go hit a real Richie-Rich’s crib.
Hey, aren't you sick of the way they look down at you?
It's time you and I collect our dues
There's a man who's worth more than a country could make
And if you come near a good job, I'll give you half the take
The vibe is classic rock, 70s… T-Rex, even. Some horns punctuate, a keyboard bounces, and the groove is all ‘come inside, we’ve got something to show you’.
Our protagonist accepts this 50/50 split and the job at hand. They drive to the location, and thanks to an inside connection (rich guy's driver), get inside without too much effort.
We then proceed to follow along as our criminal cat burglar of a narrator logs a few of the things he’s seeing—the possessions.
A vase. Paintings. A silver horse that looks at you. They arrive at the cellar door. His partner has heard tell of gold in there and it is here that our hero learns first-hand what the proverb: “no honor amongst thieves” is all about.
He told me, open it up, let's see where it lies
But when I did, he smiled, then kicked me inside
Locked in the cellar, taken for a ride
With feet in the air and lying there, he takes some time to reflect on his own role in his predicament.
Seems like these stairs are only good for falling down
But I did it, I did it
And then? Well, we have arrived at the part where I fell in love with this song. At about the 3:12 mark it rips into a blazing flurry of life-affirming energy, despite the tough spot our hero finds himself in, with a riff that bops your head and taps your feet.
And that’s not even the best bit.
The Fantastic Tomb is, of course, where he now finds himself. With the cellar door closed, he’s stuck. Entombed and doomed. And that’s when he REALLY starts reflecting.
What can you do when there’s no way out? The words found on the wall are a lesson for us all:
"Get along"
"Get along"
"Get along, little dog, get along"
I swear, the second you hear the little dog part, you’ll be on board with this song. One must always sing along to the get along. ALWAYS.
The silver horse in your house
Is dancing all around your bed
When you tell that thing to leave
It kicks you upside the head
Is that a horse head in the bed wink? Whatever. Just when you think everything's going great, you can't predict what's going to happen. Top of the stairs one minute, pushed down them the next. So, get along.
Our little dog gets along.
For a song that telegraphs his potential death, it sure is chock-full of life. He paints his own legacy on the wall to be found a thousand years from now when his fantastic tomb is opened. (Methinks it’ll be opened before then).
The song closes suddenly, like the closing of that door on this little dog’s fantastic tomb.
So… what is the deeper meaning of this? Not sure there is. Are we destined to be imprisoned by greed? Is all flash fake flash? Ah, who cares. I love this song and that’s the beginning and end of it. I will take no notes from you on this.
Side B, Track 2: “The Big Day”
The horn section is all over this one, plus a guitar riff and some searching, soaring singing. I have no idea what this one’s about, but I like the thought of being welcomed home. And who doesn’t love the idea of celebrating a “big day”?
It's your big day
It's your big day
Gonna throw you a party too
To welcome you back home
Welcome home, yeah, yeah, yeah
If it feels like I’m rushing through this one, it’s because I want to get to the last three songs on this record, which drive me straight to the coast of California and have me running like a child into the cold waters of the Pacific with a sense of total and utter delight.
Sure, things are shit, but oh, what joy is life!
The staccato beat of Side B, Track 3: “Hotel” is like an infection that gets under into your blood and your skin warm all over. It's a rash spasm. It’s stop and start and imagery out the waazoo.
Smoke in the summer, the metal taste like rubber
Traffic in the ocean, help me with the lotion
The escalator broke down, rent a bird, get around
I go
I mean, this must be California, right? Fires and pollution and traffic and beaches and helicopter flights and arrests and things up the nose scenes. You know, living the life. Liasons in hotels, perhaps? Do you think the 'eat a peach' is code? Peach as in the universal emoji meaning of peach? Or is this our first stat reference in the song? After all, California does produce 70% of the nation's peaches. That's just a fact I know.
(I didn't know. I just looked that up.)
We check out from "Hotel" and our blood is pushed through our bodies at an even greater rate with the energy and driving pulse of Side B's, Track 4: “Alive.”
It has everything. It is thrilling. When I was trying to think of ways to describe this song, I wrote down "bike messenger song.”
Strangely, I know what I meant by that. I'm talking about the snapsnapsnap of it. Short time to do deliveries, high traffic, fast pick up and drop offs. Finger snap speed. The stabs of it.
The restless leg jiggle of this song is delicious. It pushes you in front of a moving car, and in a flash, your reflexes kick in and you swerve out of the way, just in time.
Close calls. This is what it is to be alive. To be possessed by life (Hey, I'm just trying to see where it could fit into the theme) It’s a force that propels you, just like this song. Lyrically, it could just be about joining a cult. Or religion. Or some kind of spiritual woo-woo stuff you might find here in this wonderful state of mine.
And speaking of this wonderful state of mine, we arrive, finally with one the best avocados in our pocket, Side B's, Track 5: “Another California Song.”
With a wink and a nod to that LA boy, and all the cliches to be found in the idea of a California song (of which there have been so many over the years), Ty Segall leans right on into it.
A close second to Fantastic Tomb in terms of my favorite songs on the record. In fact, the whole second half Side B is why I’m coming down so hard on the side of 'joyful' in my assessment of it. It is a joy to listen to, even if there are some somber stories to be found in the lyrics.
What a hook! What a drive! What a chorus! I hate the overuse of exclamation marks. Look what you’ve done to me, Segall!
It’s a story old as the West. A creative type, heading to LA to make it big. A dreamer. A boy with a poetic heart.
Running around Los Angeles
Tilting at the big palm trees
I feel like I'm dreaming
A costume for every season
You don’t tilt at windmills in LA. Palm trees; it’s that kind of place. A costume for every season is a nice touch, too. Good luck at getting a second season. The dream is firing on all four, but there are issues. The landlord is on his ass; the dream is in jeopardy.
Waiting, I'm waiting on the studio
Hell, the landlord says I got to go
A star I was supposed to be
Now nobody is calling me
Sounds like that second season fell through.
This dress-up love is fleeting
The dream—and not just of Hollywood—is all artifice. It is dress up. But at least he’s in California.
Lost my mind, yeah, there's a cost
But it's a pretty nice place to be lost
I'm gonna keep on dreaming
A lover without reason
'Cause 40 million can't be wrong
I know you wanna sing a California tune
So sing along to another California song
To another California song
Californian's love touting stats. Why do we love this messed up state? If you don’t know, I will never tell. I'm one of the 40 million now.
*sigh*
Love. Joy. Happiness. Hope. Resilience. The American condition. Who knows what’s going to happen in 2026. I sure don’t.
But what I do know is this. Music is medicine. Records like this can have us examining the photo on the back cover and looking out at the horizon and seeing the space of the sky and the harsh hardiness of the chaparral—and I can’t remember if it’s the chaparral or just chaparral and I’m even questioning if you’d call that kinda of scrub chaparral at all.... Stay on track, Janeen. You’ve got to stick this landing. What was I saying...?
Looking out to the horizon, being presented with this sense of space and hope amongst harshness. That’s a type of joy. And using a song about a dreamer failing in LA in the most LA way possible and STILL having that sense of the dream—a very California song—well, there's a joy in that too. What a way to wrap up the record.
Now. Finally. (Is anyone still here?) Time to stick the landing of this Music | Response entry and wrap up something of my own: my #1 choice of my favorite record of 2025.
"Possession." What’s it all about? Are we possessed people? Possessed by self-doubt, or by financial insecurity? Are our thoughts possessed by the tantalizing chrome of flashy possession like a car? (If cigar car is just a cigar car). What is the shoplifter seeking to possess? What is it to be possessed by ideals?
As I say in all my bad song analysis takes, who tf knows. The best thing about lyric-based music is that you never have to move past the surface level of anything if you don't want to. You've always got the sound to respond to.
This record asks nothing of you that you aren't willing to give. I hope if you listen you enjoy it as much as I do. And if you don't, well... that's OK to. Get along.
But from where I sit, this record kicks all kinds of ass. It turned out to be exactly what I needed this year. When I listen, my brain grabs onto the bits it grabs onto and I sing the little dog and I do the woos where he woos and a do-de-do where he doo-de-doos and I feel possessed by the one word that actively sums up what it’s like to feel and vibe and glory of this record.
And that word is—you guessed it—joy.
Prefer to comment directly to me? You can always email me
Listen to the record
Play "Possession" on Spotify.
The rest of the list
Janeen McCrae
Janeen McCrae
Janeen McCrae
Janeen McCrae
The full list of contenders
The list below contains all the records, released in 2025, that I purchased for The Vinyl Countdown. Seventeen in all. They are listed in order of release date.I've also included two playlists. The final five, and the mega list of all.
The playlists
Full list:
Lambrini Girls: Who let the dogs out?
Jason Isbell: Foxes in the Snow
Brian D'Addario: Till the Morning
The Darkness: Dreams on Toast
Bon Iver: SABLE, fABLE
Little Barrie: Electric War
Tunde Adebimpe: Thee Black Boltz
Sault: 10
Natalia Lafourcade: Cancionera
Viagra Boys: Viagr Aboys
Mark Pritchard & Thom Yorke: Tall Tales
Stereolab: Instant Holograms on Metal Film
Ty Segall: Possession
Budos Band: Budos VII
The Bug Club: Very Human Features
David Byrne: Who is the Sky?
Geese: Getting Killed
Extra Credit
Interviews + Reviews
Ty Segall: New Frontier" - Relix. Excerpt below. Enjoyed this article because it went into how Ty and Matt worked together on the record.
“It was great because he went at it from a very cinematic place, and then I came at it from a songwriting place,” Segall shares. “So I’d be like, ‘Well, we should make these lines rhyme and this should be shorter. I have to sing these words,’ you know? It was those kinds of things at first, and then he got into the rhythm of it and it was cool because either I came up with the lyric of the hook, and then we fleshed it out together, or he came up with the idea of something, and then I would kind of tweak his lyrics. So we just had fun throwing the ball back and forth. It was like solving a puzzle.” - Ty Segall
Fire Track: Ty Segall – “Fantastic Tomb” - The Firenote
Ty Segall Interview - Kreative Kontrol Podcast
Ty Segall On How Piano Lessons, Glyn Johns, The C.I.A., And More Inspired His New Album - Stereogum