The Ponys
Laced With Romance

THE REVIEW

There has already been much discussion about the fact that perhaps rock is truly dead now.

However, the corpse has been promptly embalmed, exposed to the public, and crowds of visitors continuously pay homage to it. Fortunately, pilgrimages from all over the world are continuously organized: hordes of adoring teenagers, equipped with the appropriate "holy cards" - compact discs and websites - dedicate moments of contemplation to the deceased in the hope of inheriting pieces of its soul. In the early years of the new century, worthy adepts (equipped with a notarized statement?) - Interpol, Franz Ferdinand, Editors, Strokes, etc. - have managed to get on the list of succession and even gain an economic return. But even before them, enterprising and well-equipped young men explored far and wide the wealth lying unexplored and inaccessible underground: CD reissues of ancient preciousness - Kraut-Rock, minor Progressive, Texan Psychedelia, and more - have awakened sonic consciences and intelligence. What is Post Rock, after all, if not a profound homage to Rock In Person?

In this funerary perspective, I can perfectly accept that neo-rockers serve me stuff that's already been heard, chewed, and spat out with new energy. Lately, I stumbled upon the Intelligence, and it was a pleasant surprise. Now I come across this "Laced With Romance" by the Ponys (also labeled In The Red, is it a coincidence?). For older people, the first listens will be a pure exercise in disentangling from déjà-vu sounds: Television, Devo, New Wave: often, you'll be attacked by that un/pleasant sensation of knowing what they are playing but not recalling the details (it's on the tip of my tongue). Either way, it's excellent stuff played with sincerity and passion.

"Laced With Romance," dated 2003, by the Chicagoans (surprise, surprise) Ponys, begins with a couple of songs inspired by "Jumping Jack Flash" by the Stones but sung by Tom Verlaine, but it's just an impression. Afterwards, the scenery is populated with pleasant and captivating old-new wave atmospheres that seemed dormant for years (Pere Ubu, Stranglers?). But there's more: '77 punk, strictly analog keyboards, garage period Fleshtones, guitar riffs that I thought were frozen forever, find new light. The Ponys do old stuff, but you can clearly sense that this is exactly what they want to do.

Let's do a nice thing: I'll include six, seven samples so you can decide for yourselves.