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This San Francisco 21-year-old follows garage rock's lo-fi philosophy very strictly. The guitar, bass drum, high-hat, tambourine, and rollicking vocals on his debut album -- for which he is solely responsible -- are barely comprehensible through curtains of crackling distortion (though on the mellow album closer, "An Ill Jest," he flashes a surprisingly sweet tenor). But warped sonics do nothing to diminish the impact of his vigorously nostalgic riff and stomp. From paranoid whistler "Watching You" to the huge, fuzzy pound of "The Drag," Segall thunders along with the timeless, impudently rowdy energy of a cement basement dance-off.

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