heerz where i puts da bunnybrains box set reviews az dey cum streeming outta da internet's poopshoot

why? cuz i'm bored and bunnybrainz reviews are always funny wut wit da hyperbole.

dey review new wolfeyes too: http://www.pittsburghcitypaper.ws/music/story.cfm?type=CD%20Reviews#3280

THAT! is a great review xpost

wolf eyes one funny

from the aquarius records site (that'll do it for now):

BUNNY BRAINS Box The Bunny (Narnack) 4cd+dvd 17.98
You probably can't handle this. Hell, we can't really handle this, but somehow we still love the Bunny Brains to death. Massive 4 cd + 1 DVD collection of absolutely everything they've ever done, all or most of which until now has been vinyl only! So now here's your chance to hear the Bunny Brains all spiffy and digital. And believe you me, the Bunny Brains DO NOT clean up nicely. This is ultra damaged retard garage stomp with clumsy riffing, stumbling drumming, howled alley cat falsetto vocals and a recording that is 70 percent tape hiss! Third rate Stooges riffage battles confusional folk ineptitude that often erupts into weirdly inspired Ur-psych freak outs. And let's not forget their excessive use of parentheses in song titles! Yep. Imagine Happy Flowers meets Half Japanese meets Fushitsusha meets Faxed Head.
That amazing. That stupid. That amazingly stupid. And yes, that stupidly amazing....
The DVD is really something else. A ramshackle mess of lo-fi guerilla widescale fuckery, live shows, bizarre shennanigans, backstage weirdness, lots of disturbing what-the-fuck moments, nudity, cable access and more. Surprisingly watchable. So much so that after I watched enough to review, my girlfriend made me leave it on, and she ended up watching it for about an hour. Which says something, since she is (thankfully) not a Bunny Brains kind of lady. Packaged in a cool multi panel fold out digipak with reproductions of all of their amazing album art.

What does Jess Harvell have to say about this?

i should have gotten this from yancey.

blah. i'll get it next time i binge on reissues at earwax. (scott seward, which is more important to get: the second red krayola album or thirteen floor elevators "easter everywhere"?)

easter everywhere. there is no doubt.

it's really one of the only albums you will EVER need to own. "Slip Inside This House" is my bible. I study it over and over. It's a part of my brain now.

okay!

It's the only song i wish i had written.

Bedoin tribes ascending
From the egg into the flower,
Alpha information sending
State within the heaven shower
From disciples the unending
Subtleties of river power
They slip inside this house as they pass by

If your limbs begin dissolving
In the water that you tread
All surroundings are evolving
In the stream that clears your head
Find yourself a caravan
Like Noah must have led
And slip inside this house as you pass by.
Slip inside this house as you pass by.

True conception, knowing why
Brings even more than meets the eye
Slip inside this house as you pass by.

In this dark we call creation
We can be and feel and know
From an effort, comfort station
That's surviving on the go
There's infinite survival in
The high baptismal glow.
Slip inside this house as you pass by.

There is no season when you are grown
You are always risen from the seeds you've sown
There is no reason to rise alone
Other stories given have sages of their own.

Live where your heart can be given
And your life starts to unfold
In the forms you envision
In this dream that's ages old
On the river layer is the only sayer
You receive all you can hold
Like you've been told.

Every day's another dawning
Give the morning winds a chance
Always catch your thunder yawning
Lift your mind into the dance
Sweep the shadows from your awning
Shrink the fourfold circumstance
That lies outside this house don't pass it by.

Higher worlds that you uncover
Light the path you want to roam
You compare there and discover
You won't need a shell of foam
Twice born gypsies care and keep
The nowhere of their former home
They slip inside this house as they pass by.
Slip inside this house as you pass by.

You think you can't, you wish you could
I know you can, I wish you would
Slip inside this house as you pass by.

Four and twenty birds of Maya
Baked into an atom you
Polarized into existence
Magnet heart from red to blue
To such extent the realm of dark
Within the picture it seems true
But slip inside this house and then decide.

All your lightning waits inside you
Travel it along your spine
Seven stars receive your visit
Seven seals remain divine
Seven churches filled with spirit,
Treasure from the angels' mine
Slip inside this house as you pass by.
Slip inside this house as you pass by.

The space you make has your own laws
No longer human gods are cause
The center of this house will never die.

There is no season when you are grown
You are always risen from the seeds you've sown
There is no reason to rise alone
Other stories given have sages of their own.

Draw from the well of unchanging
Its union nourishes on
In the right re-arranging
Till the last confusion is gone
Water-brothers trust in the ultimust
Of the always singing song they pass along.

One-eyed men aren't really reigning
They just march in place until
Two-eyed men with mystery training
Finally feel the power fill
Three-eyed men are not complaining.
They can yo-yo where they will
They slip inside this house as they pass by.
Don't pass it by.

From Deep Fry Bonanza:

Bunnybrains
Box The Bunny
Narnack Records
Sorry to disappoint you folks, but when it really comes down to it I probably have no business writing music reviews for this or any other publication with a readership greater than my three closest friends. Yes, I know a good bit about music. Yes, I'm more than capable of tossing about hefty, semi-invented adjectives like "rocktastic" and "Slayeresque." Yes, from time to time I can even offer a real nugget of wisdom to aid the record-buying public in choosing between the new Blood Brothers, the new Sum 41, and a bag of live scorpions (tip of the day: whatever the options, always choose the scorpions). Well, so what's the problem you might ask? Simply put, I have a sneaking suspicion that I don't have particularly good taste in music.

Case in point, a friend recently called me from a record store to recommend her something pretty and kind of poppy. Naturally, I pointed her in the direction of the new Fly Pan Am release and regaled her with descriptions of how its approximation of pop melodies and hook-based experimentalism made it one of the profound releases of this past year. A half-hour later, I received an exasperated call from her shouting into the phone, "YOU MADE ME BUY A NOISE ALBUM?!!!" See what I mean?...

Blame it on an adolescence squandered listening to ear-splitting Sonic Youth side projects and all manner of abrasive drone/noise rock acts, but it seems that in my old age my music tastes have settled somewhere well outside the conventional norms of the traditional indie/punk oeuvre. Not only do I revel in the scene's abrasive and more stylistically fucked-up progeny, but my tastes have become so acclimated to these various strains of sonic delirium that I often tend to understate precisely how brain-addled such music might objectively be.

When you see that "RECOMMENDED!" attached to a review of mine, really think carefully: Is my recommendation one that you should put a lot of stock in? Are your music tastes as wantonly preposterous as mine? Does the shrill cry of guitar feedback also fill you with an exuberant aura of girlish glee? Now, I don't think that any sane person would deny that music is a deeply subjective experience, but when it comes to a certain Connecticut noisetard ensemble known as Bunnybrains, it's probably worth underscoring just how subjective an experience it can be.

Prior to their secession into two mildly antagonistic Bunnybrains acts (Bunnybrains 88 and The Bunnybrains respectively), the nebulous Bunnybrains demi-collective endured for about a decade, flabbergasting audiences of acid-freaks, art fucks, ear-bleeders, and horrified onlookers with a low-technique onslaught of psychotic feedback-sludge. My own single live encounter with the band (back in '01, when they were opening for Landing at The Rotunda in Philly) was a blur of tormented, plodding showers of untamed sound set against quasi-"frontman" Dan Bunny's semi-conscious stream of vocal diarrhea. Despite their lack of apparent musical dexterity and my usual apprehension at being in an audience surrounded by men with giant unkempt beards, I nonetheless walked away from the set quite satisfied. It was comparable to Bardo Pond without the hippied-out riffing, or maybe even Sonic Youth without the pretension, ambition, or songwriting ability. Their sound was really quite primal at its core, a seething cauldron of fire and confusion churning and bubbling over and over and over again.

Unlike contemporary noise-rockers such as Lightning Bolt, whose music is deeply rooted in an antagonism between chaos and structure, or Kites, whose music is completely rooted in a purposeful structurelessness, Bunnybrains' brand of noise was less concerned with any coherent formalisms and simply rolled forward on its own momentum, hurtling itself in whatever direction availed it like some great big Baby Huey rambling aimlessly through a cartoon world of sonic dissonance. Rooted in the don't-give-a-shit anti-talent lexicon of punk rock, mind-warped by a decade of no-wave degradation, and no doubt sustained by a hefty share of psychedelics, Bunnybrains' characteristic sound was unique in that while the band typically demonstrated a commanding grasp over their chosen musical niche, their music was neither accessible nor remotely intellectual. From this rather paradoxical perch above the 90s experimental rock scene, over time Bunnybrains firmly distinguished themselves as the most prolific dumb-as-fuck art rock band of our generation.

Given this distinction, Narnack's Box The Bunny five-disc set is quite a fitting tribute, rehashing of much of the band's cranium-wrenching discography, from their soaring heights to their downright idiotic lows. For every distortion-soaked epiphany on this umpteen-track collection, there's almost an equal balance of crude-ass rock damage and verbal bile. For example, save for perhaps the spacey jam "(What Kind Of) SHAPE (Are You In?)" and the problematically titled proto-rocker "Love Live Freedom (Cover Your Ghetto w/ Whiteout)," the world might very well have gotten along fine without the reissue of Bunnybrains' Bunny Magick LP included in this set. Likewise the DVD, with all its promise of committing the band's cacophonous live sets into the annals of recorded history, is rendered pretty much unwatchable by protracted coverage of occasionally lackluster stage antics and a downright plethora of retarded behind-the-scenes moments (at least for those of not wholly invested in watching Dan Bunny smear moisturizer over his lint-filled belly button).

But just to be clear, consistency—the ability for a band to steadfastly produce music of a uniform character or caliber—has never been a major trait of Bunnybrains and as such it should hardly be surprising that Box The Bunny comes with its fair share of rough edges. The real question here is not whether all the content is going to meet your standards—'cause it's not; the real question is whether the Bunnybrains good outweighs the Bunnybrains bad, which in regards to both this set and the band as a whole, I really have to say it does.

If you ask me, Box The Bunny's reissue of Bunnybrains' early CD 1993 alone is about worth the set's decidedly reasonable $16.98 pricetag. Opening with the ecstasied frolic of "i am not your friend (i am your destiny)", exploding through two alternately searing versions of their no-wave ass-kicker "model bitch," and even sporting a touch of non-ironic sweetness on "i prize you (i praise you)," CD 1993 is a crucial testament to Bunnybrain's tremendous versatility and—dare I say it—their genuine and oft misunderstood talent.

The band's self-titled Matador LP and their self-released Show Me The Bunny LP are similarly worthy of serious notice, each disc dishing out nugget after disorienting nugget of pure Bunnybains gold. Even the plethora of apparent filler tracks contained within Box The Bunny are often quite enjoyable, documenting the band's varied genius in the form of homoerotic S&M love anthems and Dan Bunny's post-Cobain's death radio messages lauding Kurt as a Christ-like prophet and encouraging local youths to commit suicide.

Weirdo noise rock bands may come and go, but the material on Box The Bunny lays bare the fact that there will never be another act as peculiarly iconoclastic as Bunnybrains. Though I would heartily concede that the content on this five-disc set will be completely unlistenable to 99.99% of the general populace, for my purposes Box The Bunny is an absolute must-have collection. If you're on the prowl for some tunes that will surely alienate you from your loved ones, or are ready to educate yourself about a semi-influential noise band that will almost certainly never get its retrospective due, look no further. But make no mistake: If you end up hating this, don't say I didn't warn you!

Posted by Germ at 09:05 AM

BOOBIE BRAINS!!

last nite i drank cerveza und listened to 45s and in honor ov da noize board i played public bath #3 da booooordumz.

oops, wrong thread. i iz a little hungover. those are nice pics. there is a nice one of my homegirl meghan m. and my brudder.