Post Post-Punk

Rock vets Bunnydrums make ugly look good again.

by A.D. Amorosi

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Published: Sep 28, 2006

It's not that Philadelphia's prototypical proponents of wiry post-punk are ugly, but their sound was so grotesque it was gorgeous. Still is. But, after helping to create this city's avant-punk scene, perhaps the 26-year-old Bunnydrums has snagged its respectability.

Following two decades of retirement, Bunnydrums originators David Goerk and Frank Marr joined forces with three sympathetic souls — Howard Harrison, Michael Mongiello and Marc Laurick — in spring 2006. Not to reminisce. To reclaim the manic-panicked noise of Bunnydrums while making a new mess. "Marc, Howard and Mike have their work cut out for them. They're part of something with a history and expectations. We had an uncompromising attitude towards music and lifestyle which wasn't driven by corporate ambitions," says Goerk. "If that was our motivation, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

In 1980, when Bunnydrums started, labels were smarting from issuing raw-powered punk's unsellable platters. Only the twitchy (Talking Heads), the poppy (Blondie) and the traditional (Patti, Clash) splashed the shores of success. Crunching, phase-shifting guitars — stuff like Bunnydrums — wasn't supposed to move units.

"Considering there was no industry in Philadelphia, labels behind us and such, we did well," says Goerk.

All the scene had was itself. There was Funk Dungeon at Fifth and Cecil B., the Bunnydrums version of Warhol's Factory, where they developed a dusky, aggravated roar while hangers-on drugged, boozed, danced and screwed. "We rehearsed seven nights a week, lived and hung together, had a book club before Oprah," jokes Goerk. "We were isolationists in North Philly — us and those poor souls stranded there."

There were snide, damaged lyrics crooned atop a churning metallic blare, deep-dank rhythms and layers of scrawling sax and electronic miscellany. There were friends like David Carroll who debuted Bunnydrums at Starlite Ballroom (Kensington and Lehigh) opening for Pere Ubu and Richard Jordan. Jordan dropped their first full-length, PKD, on his Red Records in 1983.

There were guys who left — bassist Greg Davis, drummer Joe Ankenbrand, guitarist Frank "Blank" Moriarty (longtime CP music columnist), producer Phil Nicolo (ever heard of The Roots?) — all of whom left by 1986 when Bunnydrums first "retired" after a second CD, Holy Moly. There were guys who died — radio maven/promoter Lee Paris, who released the 7-inch "Win"/"Little Room" on his Meta Meta label in 1981. "The only record on Meta Meta," notes Goerk.

"We were never no wave, dark wave, dark hee haw, electroclash, Goth, dub, neo-this-or-that," says Goerk as if waving off the thought. "Post-punk is just a place in time."

For all the inspiration and genre-fication, there's nothing equitable to Bunnydrums' iconic dark punch. "Oh, we're not that dark," jokes Laurick. Maybe not.

But according to Goerk, Bunnydrums do have an extra certain something. "We can walk through walls and talk to dead people," says Goerk ominously. "Name me one other band that can do that."

(a_amorosi@citypaper.net)

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