The opening track Time for Ty Segall & White Fence (Tim Presley) collaborative album Hair, eases its way into a sweetly evocative folk-rock strum, pitched so accurately you get instantly lost trying to track it: something from George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass, maybe? But then, in its last minute, the song drops into a forceful blurt of fuzz guitars so abruptly that its tendons nearly snap. It’s a bracing reminder that you are not, in fact, listening to George Harrison.
Garage-rock’s secret recipe has always been one part loving memory to two parts imperfect recall. The best stuff misremembers what it enshrines, producing a jarring little chamber of echoes that plays upon beloved memories while confusing them - I love this song/wait, is this how this song goes? Ty Segall and White Fence’s Tim Presley are masters of garage-rock’s indirection game; their collaborative album, Hair, is an absorbing, bleary maze of detours and red herrings. To hear them steer their demented little dune buggy through rock history is not unlike partaking in the American history lessons that Abe Simpson pieced together “mostly through sugar packets”: All the familiar players are here, but they’re acting funny.