This CD landed on my doorstep all the way from Athens, Georgia accompanied by a letter from the band. They wrote: "as your reviews are some of the most respected in the industry, we were hoping you would possibly take this on". Flattery will get you everywhere, of course, so I am more than happy to oblige by offering my objective 'expert' opinion!
The band turn out to be a trio comprising Mike Flynn (bass), Doug Penn (guitars/vocals) and Bill Bokas (drums/vocals). I don't much more than this. It is not clear, for instance, if a grainy photo on the back cover of a white-bearded man in a scruffy vest is one of the three or not.
Their My Space page is not exactly overflowing with info but does inform us that they were once part of an equally unknown band called Barking Charlie who split after the death of the guitar player.
From the range of styles that show up on this album and the broad themes of the songs, I'd hazard a guess that Bunny Carlos are no spring chickens. For instance, ageing, mortality and nostalgia are topics covered on the songs Cemetery Hill and Snapshot.
The album hits the ground running with Go With You, which appropriates the opening lines from Jethro Tull's Locomotive Breath. The breakneck speed of this "shuffling madness" is an attention grabbing opener but is not really representative of the record as a whole.
Actually, putting a single genre label on the 15 tracks is no easy task. Probably the best I could do is to say that they play a down to earth brand of classic blues-rock with a generous slice of Americana thrown in. Tracks like Follow and Once Upon The Way also reveal traces of fellow homeboys REM in their rockier Orange Crush or Monster moments.
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Best of all, the pervasive mood of this record is one of a healthy disregard for the trappings of corporate America. Killer's Demise takes us into the dark underbelly of the nation with a twisted tale told from the point of view of a murderer who escapes the law but not death. Another song called Satellites is far from being a ringing endorsement of the country's technological advances.
Had they'd been tied to a major label, the more than indulgent 15 minutes given over to three improvised instrumental jams would have bitten the dust along with the 5 minutes of abstract weirdness in the closing song. The latter is called Waiting For Caffeine and its psyched-out rambling suggests that while the coffee may have been late in arriving other stimulants were not in short supply.
The sprawling (though not undisciplined) quality of this album is both its strength and weakness. At a little over an hour long it's a bit of a long haul but at the same time the free and easy feel does mean that it avoids being just another formula based product.
If you're prepared to go with the flow (and why the devil shouldn't you be?) there are more than enough good solid tunes here to make the ride worth your while.
Bunny Carlos on MySpace
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