Everett True

Song of the day – 231: Tunabunny

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Bangs wept. This music makes me deliriously happy. It clatters, it splatters, it shatters, it matters. I’ve listened to the album front to back, back to front, sideways, length ways, every which wrong ways, adored the New Order steals, the slices of unrequited Bikini Kill/Skinned Teen screaming, the tributes to the female Captain Beefheart, the way that everything falls into a split-second momentary daze before surging back off again, the retro-space age echoes, the full-on distortion which sometimes drips into a most delicious haze, the scratching trembly guitar parts, the thudding percussion, the entire chaotic splendour.

I’ve lusted after the thought of owning their ‘Don’t Trust Whitey’ flexi-seven-inch-disc of Pavement covers.
I’ve lusted after the thought of catching them live, the delirium.

Some fellow on Facebook sent me a link. I was immediately attracted by the name – don’t know why, just sounded right. Scrawly-magic. I had a listen to one of the songs on YouTube, and wrote back within 20 seconds, “I don’t need longer than 10 seconds to know that Tunnabunny make PRECISELY the music I love. SEND ME MORE.” So the fellow sent me more. The album I’m discussing. Ridiculous sparking refrains, and females shouting. Tentative tantrums. Just occasionally I console myself with the thought that some folk TOTALLY understood the playfulness of early Pavement, of the 49 Americans, of that forgotten Slits Rough Trade/Y Records album… you don’t try and recapture the sound. You never try to recapture the sound (or worse, copy the fucking chord sequences). If you must, try and recapture how the sound makes you feel. That’s it. Tunabunny songs are half-songs are fuller songs than most songs around for the simple reason that they haven’t had the spirit and imagination and inspiration bashed and bullied out of them. Damn, this music make me happy.

I’ve even lusted after the thought of owning their split 12-inch vinyl with Hulaboy, and I never lust after vinyl anymore – well, rarely – because vinyl has little place in Brisbane town. There’s no spare space to parade my lust.

So, wait. You’ll be wanting to hear Tunabunny. Correct? Hey, if you’re not: then why not fuck off back to the start.


Listen, and listen. And listen. This next song totally appreciates the humour and wit of Yoko Ono. From Athens, Georgia, I believe.

The dude who sent me this fine, fine music writes:
i saw this band about 16 months ago opening for this awful bikini kill rip off. i had no idea who they were, but they stole the show. they couldn’t fully play, but they attacked the stage and won me over. it wasn’t about the actual songs, but how they existed in that moment. i knew they were something special and the band i had been waiting to find for 10 years. i instantly asked to put out a record by them. they handed me a 19 minute song in return and it was meant to be. they worked on the debut album over the next 6 months and gave me some stuff to go on of artwork-wise and then let me take control. that right there really sealed the deal even further. i trusted them to make a record they would be proud of, and they trusted me to package it in a way that best reflected what they were about.

i then began to find they would take dares so i started to dare them to do things like take a festival appearance and do the andy kaufman song i trusted you for their entire set. they let me shoot a video for them (i miss you you miss me yes) even though i had to borrow their camera, and had never shot or edited a video before. the only thing was i couldn’t take more than a hour to shoot the video and no more than 5 hours to edit it. i finished it in under 4 hours.

athens has become overrun with bands with their one eye on the prize while their other eye is on a mirror so they can watch themselves watch the prize. lots of people don’t understand tunabunny, even bands on the label have no idea why i am so smitten with this band. some folks are starting to come around, but i think they are the most important band from athens since pylon or the b-52’s.

it’s weird, it’s southern, it’s got that bomp and stomp that moves you. i can’t wait for you to get the package, and for you to hear the new album. i think you’ll like this blog. you should have a read of it.

when i hear tunabunny i feel athens.
scott plays bass, but he’s better at guitar.
brigette the singer (the little one) is better at drums.
chloe the drummer is the best guitarist
and mary jane is just mary jane, she’s the trick up the band’s sleeve.
they gut me, they gut me.

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