Close to 150 people filled the awkward space that is the on South Broadway Thursday night to hear San Francisco Bay boy play songs from his 2010 release, “Melted.”
A band of four took the stage just after 11 p.m., including mainstay-vixen drummer, Emily Rose Epstein, a pro guitarist and some doe-eyed blond girl who looked as if she had just hopped on tour that week. Fumbling through a fairly exhaustive sound check, Segall punctuated the moment by announcing, “Sorry, guys, I kind of broke my guitar last night.” Thankfully a guy from one of the three (yes, three) opening bands tossed him a guitar and the show began.
Careening into a 12-song set, the band played steeply while Segall shrieked, moaned and hiccuped lyrics, abusing the more tender, borrowed Squire while jamming down on pedals to achieve his brand of surf-meets-garage-rock-fuzz-toned distortion. Continually hurling ocular cues at bass girl to help her keep up, he stopped only to tweak with his tower of power and to dedicate the show to his mom and Aunt Cindy.
A grateful crowd moved their bodies, engaging in a bit of crowd jostling. A man from the front row hopped around on one leg, spraying beer into the gel-lit air.
Though Segall does pell-mell derivation well enough, the technical issues coupled with the litany of opening bands did me in. My wistful fantasy of a West Coast party in a salt-warped shack, cute sweaty people mashed together, would have to wait.
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