FKBADMUSIC

By Dogdale

Weeks after Ty Segall thrashed around the Revolution Hall with collaboration partner White Fence and a full band, he returned to Portland with just a guitar.

Segall’s solo acoustic set was at times beautiful as he crooned loudly into the mic. The stripped-down format played especially well on original songs such as Sleeper and Queen Lullabye as his hallow vocals filled the Aladdin Theater.

On others, such as the Dils’ Class War, a cover on Segall’s newly released “Fudge Sandwich,” Segall’s voluble chanting put an odd spotlight on the lack of lyrical creativity by the original songwriters.

But Segall seemed to be in on the joke, which at times felt like an SNL skit about a bad open mic night. The jest was most apparent when Segall broke out laughing while gruffly howling Gimmie Some Money from the movie “Spinal Tap.”

Whatever genre he was adapting, and whoever’s song he was singing, Segall was a showman. He trashed around, keeping the sedentary patrons glued to him. He shook his blonde hair — cut into a sort of long bob — wildly, prompting an audience member to shout his admiration for the ‘do during a break between songs.

“Thanks. I told them to chop it all one length,” Segall said with a laugh, showing everyone who wasn’t somehow already aware that he is quite comfortable in his own skin.

His energy was as eclectic as his catalog, bouncing from soft and heart-felt to grungy to silly, though the show was wildly different than his performance with White Fence, which coaxed from the crowd a rowdy mosh pit and stage-diving.

The Laguna Beach, Calif. native is nothing if not prolific, somehow finding time to frequently tour while seemingly never ceasing to record. In 2018 alone, he has released five full-length albums through his solo and side projects. 

It’s all different: “Fudge Sandwich” is a collection of odd covers; “Orange Rainbow” is a 30-minute, 13-track instrumental released only on 55 cassette tapes; “Freedom Goblin” is Segall’s most produced sound yet; “Joy” — his second project with White Fence — perhaps brings out the best in Segall with its psychedelic wanderings; and The Goggs’ “Pre Strike Sweep” is grungy, feedback-filled punk set to Segall’s pounding of the drums.

They’re very different but all good, like Segall’s performances. As my friend put it after the show, “He could come back next month for an electric piano set and I’d still pay $25.”

With two albums under their belt, stellar reviews of their latest release from two big dogs--Rolling Stone and our insufferably polysyllabic friends at Pitchfork--and 350,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever is on the verge of musical stardom.

Mark my words, within two years, expect these guys to achieve all the markers of indie pop success--CD's available at your local Starbucks, a dope Mazda commercial, hey, maybe they'll even transition to solely playing music mega-festivals!

Thus, it was no surprise that they rocked the house Thursday night at the Doug Fir. But there were other surprises in store.

To start, they were not the post-punk beatniks dressed from head to toe in black and leather that I was expecting. Instead, they all had their own style, a refreshing treat in a scene typically drenched with hipper-than-thou coolness. Frontman Joe White even bears a shocking resemblance to the late, great Steve Irwin, though in a sexy guitar player kind of way.

In fact, they came across as utterly approachable. "We went to two waterfalls today and they were fucking amazing," one said near the beginning of the show. Later White joked about merch--"Come by the booth for the things. Kombucha. Life insurance. T shirts mainly."

Another surprise was the most multi-generational crowd I've seen in a long time. At one point, standing close to the front row, I looked around and was surrounded by a sea of grey hair. Tell me the last time you got to hang with people your parents' age at a rock n roll show.

But perhaps the biggest surprise was the opener, Jo Passed.

Picture this. Jo Hirabayashi standing proud with a mop hairdo, flanked by Bela Bébé and Megan-Magdalena Bourne, all strapped with white instruments (not to mention Bourne's massive platforms!). It started as a solemn affair, each band member playing their parts diligently. But by the fourth or fifth song they were jumping off amps, falling on the floor, and doing headstands--all while ripping. After finding the tallest stack on stage to play a solo from, Hirabayashi exclaimed, "I sat really high! How rockin?" The next song, the antics came to a crescendo as he flung his guitar 360 degrees around his neck by just the strap. To see all the ways this could go wrong click here #magic amiright?

SPICE LEVEL: SPICE CITY for anyone with a thing for Crocodile Dundee impersonators and magic tricks

Chatter filled the basement at the Doug Fir as Okay Kaya's soft vocals were overwhelmed. For anyone who has heard Kaya Wilkins debut album entitled Both, this was a surprise. Where the album is delightfully lofi, melancholy and powerful, the woman onstage with acoustic guitar in hand couldn't wrangle the chatty Cathies there on Thursday night.

 The crowd was here to see Amen Dunes.

 As soon as the five piece took the stage, the packed house was attentive and quiet. But to start, something was off. Clearly they were having sound problems onstage and after the third song, frontman Damon McMahon apologized to the crowd, saying "this is our first show with these dumb new electronics and the dumb new electronics aren't working properly."

 It is quite common to see musicians pretend nothing is wrong, or get visibly upset onstage when they can't hear themselves or there is feedback. I appreciated his candor and directness, as well as his ability to laugh it off. It would have been easy for this to ruin what ended up being a stunning show.

 McMahon's droning vocals were as polished live as they are on his recordings, and the band was equally flawless. To compliment the music, the mood was dark, and so was the lighting. I couldn't decide if this was consistent or irritating. I'm sure for some it created a certain ambience, akin to taking hard drugs, or listening to trance music in a Berlin club at 4 in the morning. But for me, I would have liked to see the band for at least some of the set. The only relief came at one point when a photographer took a long exposure with a flash.

 Other aspects of the show were engaging however. The excited gentleman on bass rocked out in the background, showing off his structured arms with a pleasantly revealing tank top. And McMahon's presence was casual and interesting. Enough banter to connect with the crowd, and subtle movements and hand gestures added texture to an otherwise flat painting. Clothes came in black and white, and despite the cyclical nature of the songs, and dearth of dynamics, it never felt stale. I found myself captured, enraptured and after three beers in two hours, pretty buzzed.

SPICE LEVEL: HOT HOT HOT for those who enjoy loops, subtle melodies, and night vision goggles.