Til Death Do Us Party

Part of the ever-increasing wave of post-9/11 bands reimagining the tropes of herky-jerky '80s dance-punk, Philadelphia's Pony Pants are less groove-oriented than Vav Jungle, less manic than the Epoxies, less bouncy than You Say Party! We Say Die!, less noisy than Be Your Own Pet and, frankly, not really as good as any of them. Singer Emily Kovach has the bratty, semi-tuneless delivery down pat, especially on the album-ending highlight "Pony Train," but her bandmates (two guitarists, one of whom doubles on drum machine) seem to have only figured out a small number of musical tricks, which are somewhat ineptly repeated throughout this brief album. Sometimes it works — "Haircutz" is a nervy pop thrill, and "White Palace" has a querulous, wound-up edge that works a treat — but just as often, it doesn't, not quite. The best parts of Till Death Do Us Party bode well for a follow-up — just sayin', but a keyboardist and a bassist would do wonders, too — but on its own merits, it's frustratingly uneven.