Bunny Brains, Truman's Water, Bardo Pond
4/22/95, Under Acme, NY
Bardo Pond: I don't know what the hell the guitarist in Bardo Pond thinks. He gets up at two in the afternoon, makes himself a cupcake and a six-pack and thinks: I'm honest. Maybe at practice he stares at his woody through the cracks of his strumming fingers, wondering when he'll get to bonk the singer. His band is better than working at the warehouse, but not as good as getting high and cajoling his portly-but-sweet girlfriend (not the singer, not by a long shot) into giving him a handjob and her video rental card. Indie rock is nothing more than the sum of its failures, and this foursome are so tanked on the minutiae of their own lives that I'm surprised they can leave the house without turning to dust. Shoe-gazing in America means that you still live at home, hate mom and dad and think that hiding under the covers sixteen hours a day makes you a speedbump on the American Dream highway. Deduct ten points for pissing the E;ed.
Trumans Water: Avant Garde? Avant Garde is the idea that jumping up and down will make your sagging cake of a band a success. These boys have it all wrong: MTV isn't coaxing you into joining a rock band, it's coaxing you into being a hard-working young professional. So get with the program.
Bunny Brains: Gooey earnestness is about as prevalent and deadly as HIV, so I appreciate the fact that the bassist wears bunny ears and a bathrobe while doling out knobby bass fudge. I'm sure he goes home and beats his wife and kids from the pain of being in a bad rock band, but still, A for effort. As for the rest of them, nudity and anti-PC behavior are only as good as the last chord played, and even one other song as good as "Onic Outh" could prevent them from becoming Gwar Jr. I'm probably angry because I just don't understand how difficult it is to play a guitar while wearing oven mitts and a panty on my head.