The Ponys, The Occasion, West by Swan & Lott Lyzzyrd

The late night at Off Limits last Thursday was a night of effects pedals, psychedelic musings, ear-shattering reverb, minutes-long breakdowns with “wahs” galore, pinpoint-timed pedal and knob tweaking and lots of furious hunkerings down over respective guitars. Many in Chico considered themselves lucky to catch The Occasion and The Ponys before they played Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco that Friday.
First up was local three-piece Lott Lyzzyrd, who came equipped with hefty drum solos and what I, having never seen West by Swan before, thought to be a nice assortment of pedals. A few times I caught a hint of ‘60s Brit-rock, a couple others maybe a whiff of Zeppelin. They jammed well, though, even when sound troubles ensued and the drummer decided off the cuff to take things down a notch. I often found myself mentally checking my to-do list during their oft-repetitive breakdowns. Other than that, a pretty cohesive set from the Lyzzyrd.
Next was the marveling and innovative sound of West by Swan. Also big on the instrumental interludes, this foursome’s intricate tinkerings made it never seem boring or repetitive. Each song was different from the last and rarely contained easy chord progressions or drums. Watching Daniel Taylor attack his drumkit like a tantrum-throwing kid in timeout was pretty amusing, as well. Definitely my favorite set of the night.
Longest setup of the night goes to New York’s The Occasion, but the wait was worth it. With a Fender Rhodes, tambourines and maracas (even a couple handed out to participating audience members), The Occasion immediately brought the word “ethereal” to my mind. Their sounds often seemed otherworldly, with keyboardist Brent Cardero often preferring to exude light tingings or bells. They were an eclectic group, but put all they had into their sound, issuing what could be thought of simultaneously as a sporadic jam session or methodically planned experimental performance. The Occasion ended on a long, drawn-out noise interlude, which made me pray to the pop gods that there was at least a little bit of spunk in Chicago’s The Ponys.
I knew I must have done good somewhere when The Ponys jumped full-bore into their catchier, pop-ier set. Their sound was difficult to pinpoint, though it did seem a bit easier to grasp — I guess because there was a little ‘60s rock here, some ‘80s punk there, again a twinge of Brit-pop (especially in tiny bassist Melissa Alias’s smooth, rich voice, which caught me — only sometimes — as similar to Garbage’s Shirley Manson or Saffron of Republica). Their set was just long enough to get me energized for the drive home, picking up in intensity toward the end. Overall, a good night for experimental, psychedelic rock.

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