TY SEGALL - Chrome

For some artists, prolificacy becomes a curse: sooner or later the machine seizes up, urgency turns into routine, and ideas start to blur into one another. But Ty Segall seems to have found a way to use excess as fuel, delivering yet another electric assault and setting fire to territory he's already conquered over the years.

After the more introspective, baroque detour of “Possession” (2025), Segall calls back his band (Ben Boye, Evan Burrows, Mikal Cronin and Emmett Kelly) and returns to what he does best: playing as if the amplifier were a living creature to be provoked to the point of collapse. The result is a tight, ferocious record, cut with a collective energy that runs through every track. Here the guitar doesn't accompany, it attacks.

“Chrome” is heavy without becoming metal, psychedelic without drifting off into the cosmos, punk without needing to prove it. Inside it you'll find garage rock, proto-punk, echoes of Hawkwind, some of the rough edges of Black Flag, then Blue Oyster Cult, Stooges, and that eternal lesson from Neil Young that a riff can be as much a melody as a threat. But Segall doesn't sound like someone looking backwards: he digests everything and spits it back out with a face smeared in fuzz.
“Hospital” opens the dance with an almost hypnotic synth loop, before the guitars burst in like a door kicked off its hinges. “Running To Nowhere” runs instead on a cavernous bass and drums that seem to be chasing something that absolutely does not want to be caught. “Glass” turns the stage into an imaginary moshpit, while “Black Paint” works the quiet/loud dynamic with almost pop-like precision, before letting the noise take over completely. And then there's “Everything You've Been”, where melodic sweetness is slowly devoured by distortion. This is perhaps where Segall's real talent shows: beneath the chaos there's always a song. Even when everything seems on the verge of exploding, the melody stays there, not even all that hidden.

In just over half an hour, there's barely a dull moment: some riffs leave immediate scars, others seem to dissolve into the vortex, but “Chrome” isn't meant to be contemplated - it wants to be experienced at criminal volume. A physical, noisy, dirty, and surprisingly vital record. Ty Segall reminds us that, as long as someone still feels like playing it this way, rock will never die.

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02/09/2026