The next time I hear the new Tunabunny album I’m incensed, beaten down.
By Everett True The first (1) time I listened to the new Tunabunny album ——————– it was out of a sense of obligation, not nasty, on my headphones late night at home.
This song spills over with as much joy and innovation (both prime pop ingredients) as a kindergarten art class and is just as fun, splashy, bright, intent and contrary.
Everett True invokes the carnal spirit of the Mary Poppins books in a somewhat cackhanded attempt to explain his fascination for the new Bushwalking album.
So here we are again. Back in Athens, GA. A town rich with an embarrassment of melody and weirdness.
Wrongness is an underrated virtue. Tunabunny revel in wrongness with all the grubby enthusiasm of a puppy rolling in mud and, puppylike, they come up bouncing.
Is that a cow bell? No.
The streets are wide and paved with grey. The grass is green unless it’s burnt or isn’t. The costumes are cheap. The rent is low rise.
There’s such energy here. That alone should make you fall head over heels hopelessly for this. And a killer melody, and singing.