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Politeness got thrown out of the window 10 minutes into Ty Segall and the Muggers' at Aladdin Theater on Saturday night. "Down with utopia!" Segall shouted before the band ripped into "Diversion" and he spit a giant loogie into the crowd. For one night, the dream of rock 'n' roll—the debauched, hairy, un-neutered version—was alive in Portland.
Nearly every aspect of the show defied the city's usual concert etiquette. Segall and his all-star backing band didn't take the stage until after 11:30 pm and tore through all of new album Emotional Mugger from front to back, reveling in every sharp blast of guitar fuzz, droning keyboard line and throaty singalong. The mix was so loud it still hurt with earplugs in, and the crowd was raucous from the tip, moshing in defiance to the security guards' attempts to keep everyone in front of the stage from spilling out into the aisle. Suddenly, the classy Aladdin Theater was more like Pickathon's Galaxy Barn during a sweaty late-night set.
The show perfectly fit the aesthetic of the chaotic and unhinged Emotional Mugger. Segall relished his turn in the spotlight, foregoing guitar duties to stalk the stage as a manic frontman, complete with frequent leaps into the crowd and turns writhing on the stage as the band summoned molten lava out of their instruments. During "Squealer Two," bassist Mikal Cronin disappeared from the stage and returned a few seconds later with a saxophone, blaring strange notes, as the Muggers did their best cocaine-Bowie strut.
Segall was clearly having more fun than anyone else. At the end of the night he took to introducing the group, calling guitarist Kyle Thomas of King Tuff— decked out in an orange jumpsuit and shutter shades, looking like your creepy uncle's Halloween mashup of the Beastie Boys and Kanye—"tangerine dream" and Cronin as "booty bass." Down with utopia, indeed. MICHAEL MANNHEIMER.
All photos by Emily Joan Greene.
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