Ty Segall dampened

By Cheryl Hann, Staff Contributor

The number one problem I have with Pop Explosion shows are the people who attend them. This was particularly true of the Ty Segall show at the Seahorse. Segall, a psych musician possessed by the ghost of Jay Reatard, came in from San Francisco and played a dynamite set—for an unruly mob of violent ogres.

Segall, backed by a major babe on bass, a major babe on drums, and a burly dude on guitar, cranked out 20 plus of his signature two minute songs, peppering the set with covers of Sabbath and GG Allin. The set was great; Segall exuded so much positive energy that he seemed entirely unphased by the throngs of seething douche bags who danced with their fists, and pushed with all their might. I was not so easy going. I was terrified.

There were points in the show when it seemed like Segall knew that things were getting out of hand. He said, “You guys are insane. I’m going to slow it down for a minute,” and the crowd said, “Oh no you’re not!” People were vomiting on the dance floor and noses were being broken. Segall crowd-surfed himself, his guitar, and a hulking stoner through the crowd. Security threw in the towel and someone used it to wipe the blood off their face. The show was madness. Madness backed by a killer soundtrack.

I’d love to see Segall come back and play a set where he’s in control; a set where his performance isn’t governed by mob rule. Hopefully we didn’t scare him off, because he does such a great job of blending pop-punk with ethereal falsettos that I’d go see him every night if I didn’t have to fear for my life. Check yourself, Pop Explosion crowd, before you wreck yourself.