White Fence, “For the Recently Found Innocent”

Having peeked out from his bedroom nook and dripped through the rafters down into Ty Segall’s garage, Tim Presley hoists the door open to shed natural light upon White Fence’s sixth album, For the Recently Found Innocent.
Reviews
White Fence, “For the Recently Found Innocent”

Having peeked out from his bedroom nook and dripped through the rafters down into Ty Segall’s garage, Tim Presley hoists the door open to shed natural light upon White Fence’s sixth album, For the Recently Found Innocent.

Words: Kyle MacKinnel

July 22, 2014

white-fence_for-the-recently-found-innocentWhite Fence
For the Recently Found Innocent
DRAG CITY
7/10

Having peeked out from his bedroom nook and dripped through the rafters down into Ty Segall’s garage, Tim Presley hoists the door open to shed natural light upon White Fence’s sixth album, For the Recently Found Innocent. The dynamic duo of San Francisco’s thriving garage scene, Segall and Presley have long been frequent collaborators, working together on 2012’s joint LP Hair, and tirelessly populating each other’s projects with diligent cameo efforts. So it comes as no surprise when Segall’s knob instincts seem ready-wired to the motherboard of Presley’s warped, hook-laden pop, right down to the very subtlest of vocal pans. Segall’s availability to cut drum tracks couldn’t have hurt matters, either, and if there is one fresh aspect that most readily serves this record, it’s the lift of live drumming (handled by Segall, as well as and longtime live-Fence member Nick Murray). Otherwise, Innocent is by and large the White Fence that we’ve come to know and love. Innocent’s honed sense of focus most likely results from Presley’s freedom to pass along production duties, and get back to his instinctual pull–the gravity of song. And there are several strong ones that appear within, whether it’s Presley’s insouciant call ringing in discord with tilted organs on “Sandra (When The Earth Dies),” or his adept navigations through tear-gassed guitar passages on “Wolf Gets Red Faced,” or the rotating-crystal tempo of “Afraid Of What It’s Worth,” the craftsmanship of the songs always sinks harmoniously into the damp sediment beneath. “You have this body / It’s the only one you need,” proclaims Presley on effective opener, “Anger! Who Keeps You Under?” It’s a righteous assertion, made on a style of album that feels increasingly organic, and celebrates the type of clean energy one can still bleed out of a musty room’s air with enough sweat and jagged sound.