The music of The Ponys is so delicate when you warm up to it, and yet so destructive and mesmerizing, it's hard to see straight once it kicks in. It's tough to imagine the effect on an unsuspecting world it will have. The songs of this Chicago band challenge the DIY aesthetic to the point not everybody can do it themselves anymore. The timing, the vocal inflection, the tremendous build up and crashing-- it's an all-new playing field and it's pretty damn exciting. If psychedelic music is supposed to be drippy and lazy, then you can't compare this at all. "Pop" is also way too broad of a term to fit, but once you let these songs plug into your receptacles, it all becomes quite clear. "Noise" is just as unworthy of a description, but begins to tap into the fortified power that's ended so many live shows with a feedback-destroyed eardrum or two.
Somehow The Ponys cleverly destroy everything that you used to hate, and then force you to love it with such a unique, swirling sound and jaggedly perverse style that you're left in an orange haze of confusion, pleasure, and overwhelming satisfaction. Seriously. You know, the stuff Mick Jagger wanted to get his hands on so desperately. It really seems that songs like these haven't been written in a long time. Everything's been done before, right? Wrong. Jered's vocals may echo the desperation of Richard Hell, and those chilling keyboards may recall the perfect Velvet Underground, but it's in a modern league all its own. How something so seductively neurotic can be so therapeutic is hard to fathom, but just be glad to witness it. The Ponys change everything with just a few heartbreaking chords and there's nothing anyone can do about it but enjoy his or her new favorite band.
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