Shedding layers of their arrogant punk for a more suppressed soul searching sound
I once saw a Dan Deacon show where he led a bunch of hipsters in the crowd out in a massive conga line around the venue. It was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen, the Timmy Mallet cunts. Similarly, the music of [a]Ponytail[/a] can at times feel like you’re accidentally wandering in on some sort of primal therapy session for the terminally ironic.
But the truth is they’re more like modern kids in search of a soul. With screechy frontlady Molly Siegel’s cheerleading more subdued than on previous efforts – and the band’s deranged twin-guitar attack newly pared – the Baltimore troupe’s third album aims at a more refined take on their jerk-punk lyricism. And for
the most part it succeeds at doing just that.
But equally, ‘Do Whatever…’ sounds less like inhibitions being shed, less like sex with a tree trunk after a hallucinatory, three-day Haribo bender than their other stuff — and that’s kind of a shame, too.