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here's what the volcano had to say about us.
There’s a certain expectation that comes with playing garage rock. The requisite fuzziness and simple melodies blaring through cracked amps is present with Johnny Cheeseburger & the Cum Bunnies (playing on at The Den tonight), but as I sit down with them it becomes clear that they approach their music from an almost off-putting innocence. I can detect none of the silly self-importance or over-sized egos that are common in even the smallest local bands. What I see are three people who play music for no other reason than to enjoy it, and for it to be enjoyed by others—a true garage band, minus all the bullshit. That they write songs about menstruation and pissing the bed is more of an afterthought.
Johnny Cheeseburger’s Cum Bunnies are Assley Sex and Henry. Assley prompts Henry by saying, “You’re Henry Bunny.” Henry demurs, softly replying, “My name’s Henry.”
Soon, everyone is trading stories about people messing up their band’s name: Johnny Rocket & the Cum-Shots, Jimmy Rocket & the Cum-Stains, Tommy Hotdog & the Carpetmunchers.
“Those names are all better than ours,” says Henry, and everyone laughs in agreement. Such is the loose nature of Johnny Cheeseburger & the Cum Bunnies, a looseness that the songs reflect perfectly: loud, two-minute bursts of absurd vulgarity and pledges of devotion to Johnny Cheeseburger. It’s all one big goof.
Assley returns to the basement from upstairs to inform us that we can no longer smoke down there. There goes my last line of defense, and soon it’s time for me to go.
Johnny Cheeseburger requests that I make sure people know about their show on Aug. 22 at Silent Studios. Henry wants to give a shout-out to Betty and Jerry. I leave the basement dazed, unsure what to say about a band that refuses to be the dicks — a band that just writes about them.
JC & the CBs, CUMBUNNIE AND I LOVE YOU JC BUTTONS AVAILABLE!!
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