The Ponys from left: Melissa Elias, Brian Case, Jered Cummere, and Nathan Jerde
Newberry, Jim
The Ponys
Issue #31
Rock is on a roll for the Chicago four-piece — especially on their latest release, which is all about sonic sounds, cheap guitars, and expensive amps
By Eugenia Williamson
Published: March 1st, 2007 | 12:00am
Way back in 2004, more than one British journalist announced that the Ponys were the second coming of the Strokes. Citing a similar late-‘70s Bowery ethos and ignoring the fact that the bands sound nothing alike, this well-meaning hype paved the way for widespread critical recognition with none of the fur-lined jets or dates with Drew Barrymore.
The other thing missing was a Strokes-like influx of cash. Three years later, the band still needs part-time jobs. “Every two weeks there’s the next new thing,” says Ponys bassist Melissa Elias, who freelances as a stylist for Playboy when not on tour. “You can’t let it go to your head.” And yet belonging to a world-famous band can’t help but heighten your expectations. “I don’t know how I’d ever go back to real life,” says Elias’ husband, the band’s singer-guitarist Jered Gummere, while ruminating on returning to the workaday world.
It’s not that Gummere has ever led what one would describe as a typical existence. Before the Ponys, he spent his teenage years in a Bloomington, Illinois, punk house called the Fort (sung about in the song “1209 Seminary”), which he compares to the movie Suburbia. “Our landlord died and we were like, ‘We don’t have to pay rent ever again!’” he says.
Gummere met Elias when she moved to Bloomington to attend college at Illinois State University. The pair moved to Chicago in 2001, forming the band shortly thereafter. They married earlier this year and act accordingly. They finish each other’s sentences and giggle frequently. At times, Gummere and Elias seem like a pair of young newlyweds who just happen to front a world-class rock band.
Onstage, the couple seems like they were grown in a special Petri dish for the rock elite. Gummere howls from behind a curtain of greasy blond hair, holding his guitar like he very well might pound somebody with it. Elias, who was recognized as a “Sex Bomb” by this very magazine (see the fall 2005 issue), achieves Kim Gordon levels of cool. They manage to pull off songs with lyrics like “I want to fuck you” without appearing the least bit silly. The Ponys are that rare thing among today’s indie bands: actual rock stars with nothing to prove.
On record, they kill. So far, the Ponys have released two records with L.A.-based punk label In the Red. 2004’s Laced With Romance — the one that got them lumped in with the Strokes — is trenchant, snotty fun that’s 15 times more irreverent than anything released by the aforementioned New Yorkers. The Steve Albini–produced Celebration Castle, released the following year, manages to be polished without losing any of the Ponys’ trademark grit. Their latest album, Turn Out the Lights, is their third full-length and Matador debut. “It was the best possible choice,” Elias says of their new label.
For a band that was used to recording albums in three days of studio time, the six weeks of recording that Matador permitted was a luxury. The result is a record that sounds drastically lusher than either of the Ponys’ previous efforts. “It’s still rocknroll, but it’s got a lot of different guitar shit in it,” says Gummere, who attributes the new sound to “cheap guitars and expensive amps.” “We all have a little more power,” adds Elias. Notably, the Ponys have replaced their trademark Farfisa organ with a Wurlitzer, lending a creamy soulfulness to once creepy-sounding riffs. Equally important is the departure of longtime Pony Ian Adams and the addition of Brian Case of 90 Day Men. Chase’s second guitar pairs a cloudy reverb with Gummere’s jangly, angular style. “Having Brian in the band makes us sound a lot different: fuller, more sonic,” Elias says.
Another major reason why Turn Out the Lights sounds more melodic is because Gummere has cut back on the howls. He did so for completely practical reasons. “It was starting to hurt, singing those old songs, every night screaming,” he says. “The treble started shredding my ears last year. I’m trying to sing a lot more instead of yelling into a microphone.”
Gummere needs to save his pipes for the band’s upcoming tour with former label mates the Black Lips. They’re a little wary of playing second, since the Black Lips “play guitar with their dicks and stuff,” reports Gummere. Last year found the Ponys on a five-city stint with pals Art Brut, who, according to Elias are “really, really sweet.”
While not on the road, Elias and Gummere spend most of their time relaxing in their Chicago apartment with dogs Pancake and Champ. They are reality-television aficionados, ranking Flavor of Love as their mutual favorite, and admit to being fans of both Cheaters and Paradise Hotel.
In spite of their ever-increasing popularity, the Ponys have no plans to abandon the City of Big Shoulders. They find their hometown to be both nurturing and inexpensive. “Chicago is awesome,” Gummere said. “Every time we get sick of it, we leave.”
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