The Stone ~ 5221 Hollywood Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90027
In the words of Punk Bunny: “Yes, we're brother & sister (We were spit out from the same hole).” Back Alley Sally and Luigi Sandoval, the dynamic duo of siblings, burst and boomed on stage to their grand and grubby tracks, commanding a group of aging, overweight, and/or handicapped back-up dancers and band mates. In celebration of their fifth album, Punk Bunny dropped a smashing jizzful of a jamboree for the CD's release at The Stone, on a Saturday night called “Teabag." The curtain advertising the merrymaking displayed a glittered, testicle shaped teabag dipping in a golden cup with the following subtext: “a balls out dance party”. It is no surprise that packs of goths, freaks, queens, and queers swarmed in to dance the night away in purple party pumps while wigging out--patrons wearing wigs received a discounted cover charge.
In addition to the canonized descendants of the electronic Big Bang, from Kraftwerk and Abba to Air and Radiohead, we are able to thank the bumhole/cunt/cock gods for electroclash in the vein of Punk Bunny. Just when you’d thought you’d heard it all, these two told a little more. Cyber-legend has it that a man was fired from his job for watching the video for “Water Sports” at work, one in which each female Punk Bunny is sprayed with suggested urine. Said fan is honored on the band’s official website. Other songs demonstrate the same brash, outrageous lyricism along a thumping and throbbing set of beats. My personal favorite is '976 Slut.' It proposes that phone sex is the affordable alternative to hiring a hooker.
The Punk Bunny show is nothing short of freakshow-inspired cabaret. I’d go as far as to call Punk Bunny shows performance art. To pick a middle-aged disabled woman to dance front stage as well as Francine the Dancer, an aging fat blonde bitch choreographed to get on all fours. These anti-Rhythm Nation soldiers forcefully challenge our social constructions of normativity. Through the jesting of such a disgusting display, the Punk Bunny crew requires a reconsideration of the grotesque and uncanny that we see in the aged, the disabled, and the “deformed”. Also, by spitting out trashy tunes about whoring, the band demands an examination of the concept of “bad” and “naughty,” through “perverted” language about sexuality. The Punk Bunny way is powerfully subversive, as it not only transcends, but trashes, the precincts of propriety much like an incestual version of Bataille's Story of the Eye.
Not only is the appeal of Punk Bunny in its insubordinate nature, but also in its hot little lead singer, Sally. Back Alley Sally’s itty bitty rock star-ette body bumped into mine as she made her way onto the stage through the crowd in an 80’s two-toned, teal and hot pink leotard with her signature bum sticking out—a thong tugged against her bodacious backside flesh. In honor of Sally’s back alley, I would say, “Fuck JLo”, but Punk Bunny might say it better: Pork JLo, spin that slut ‘round, jizz on her face then give her a piss shower with your little pecker. I had even greater luck when Sally, accompanied by keyboardist Jizzmin, placed her hand on my shoulder to step down from stage. And still, I’m hoping her slight hand had some pussy juice on it to coagulate on my blouse for keepsake. Punk Bunny, you are all that and a bag full of jizz.
www.myspace.com/punkbunnymusic
