It's like Mattel putting a different dress on Barbie and calling it a new doll. This album's beutiful cartoon-surrealist jacket art by Todd Schorr masks an amnesiac assortment of wet comedy slaps and unfocused bomb jams. Obscure self-commentary and tape scraps fill the gaps. If Bunny Brains have hald the wit of ZCR or Pork Queen, they aren't letting on. Mostly concerned with their own band and indie rock in general, Bunny Magick is an ill-willed whirlwind of edgy noise and rock resentment that shrinks your skull with a purposeful lack of appeal.
Nothing exceeds like excess.
The Bunny Brains have built a Taj Mahal of psychedelic sludge, a two-chord Trump Tower, a Mount Rushmore of everybody playing really loud at once and sort of trying to make sure they're playing the same song. Tucked beneath the track's bravado is a simple but contagious melody that holds promise for future recordings. Way cool for college programmers who aren't trying to be overly commercial and slick. They actually play their instruments and write songs, sounding like a sloppy punk rock wedding band, fronted by the drunkest guy at the party. Also these guys are assholes.