Stylus Magazine



Ponytail
Deerhoof ain’t got enough goofass power-pop for you? Well…
In his recent writeup, Jess Harvell said the debut album by Baltimore rock band Ponytail—I hesitate to label them any further—reminds him more of specific colors than melodies, which is almost the right idea: they're Technicolor bursts, not just dashes of pink or orange, but wobbly, trebly notes careening off slashing walls of guitar and crash cymbal like full-scale fireworks out of a Roman candle. To say that Ponytail riffs are redolent of Deerhoof or warped pop nuts of yore is fine for easy reference, but forgets that, even at their windiest, they rock harder—and with a cheeky fuck-all glee I haven't seen in any other guitar band. And guitarist Ken Seeno has a really sick guitar face during his blazing solos—he closes his eyes, hell he even sticks his tongue out a little bit.

At Ronny's in Chicago last Wednesday, lead singer Molly Siegel, bite-sized dynamo of this bass-less four-piece, was a commanding stage presence, preening for pictures and hurling herself at an audience still trying to sift through something so loud. Watching her jump up and down in one place is a metaphoric treat for someone trying to label her yelps—can we coin punctuation into the rock vernacular?—but Ponytail, damn kids they are, hardly rest on their laurels, closing their set with oohs and ahs in a just-written ten-minute opus.
[Sam Bloch]