Sometimes you just feel old. Like when you see freshmen and simultaneously pity and envy their naiveté. Or when you grasp the reality of your parents’ mortality. Or when you realize that Jonathan Taylor Thomas is now thirty. (Wait, what? When did that happen?) These occasions are depressing and are becoming more frequent with each passing year, but fortunately, there are antidotes. Like episodes of “Recess” on YouTube. Or sunshiny days on Foss. Or Ty Segall last night at Eclectic.
In a rock world that seems to be aging so rapidly it’s probably going to pack up and retire to Boca any day now, Segall is endlessly refreshing. Energetic and positively overflowing with verve, on his albums the now 23-year-old Segall sounds like one of those lucky few who lives to 80 but is never a day over 25. Predictably, no one in the press can resist writing anything about him without using the word “Wunderkind.” And while his youth is inescapable, his sound is firmly rooted in the recent past, as Segall singlehandedly keeps the garage-rock spirit of 2001 alive. The White Stripes may have disbanded, The Strokes may have grown old and dull, and The Vines may have fallen off the face of the planet, but luckily for us, Ty Segall is around to keep the candles alight at the altar.
Segall’s latest album, “Goodbye Bread,” his most popular to date, checked in at number 31 on Pitchfork’s ranking of the best albums of 2011. He’s plainly talented—every track is solid and Segall plays all the instruments—but the album lacks the calculated precision that can sometimes make talent feel weighty. Instead, Segall manages to capture the energy of the Sex Pistols and Bikini Kill, musicians untroubled by the fact that they couldn’t play their instruments, and strikes the ideal balance of skill and spontaneity. The grungy, lo-fi sound is endearing and endlessly inviting, and in short, Segall is impossible to resist. He’s aware of his Peter Pan reputation and uses his skill with ageless nostalgia to the max. On the closer “Fine,” Segall speaks over the outro, saying “Goodbye, see you next time on the Reading Rainbow,” instantly conjuring Levar Burton and Saturday mornings watching PBS. That he can pull a line like this off is a testament to his irrepressible charm.
The only downside to having an idol your own age is the aching sense of inferiority. He’s released five solo albums! What have you done? And why haven’t you finished that screenplay? We’ll have to look on the bright side and take inspiration where we can find it. Those moments of acute awareness of encroaching adulthood aren’t going anywhere. But we can try our best to dispel them whenever they arise and listening to Ty Segall is a sure-fire cure.
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