First and foremost, I am motivated by
music. But if I wasn’t attracted to
spectacle, I’d just sit at home and listen to records. Sometimes, that curiosity temporarily can suspend my insistence on quality, even if it is just for the sake of
pure show. Which brings me this week to
The Bunny The Bear because, well, just fucking look at these guys…
They wear
animal masks – a bunny and a bear, duh – while sing-screaming their dysphoric adolescent hearts out with almost
no detectable sense of art or humor. Unfortunately, the worst part about their recent show here (Feb. 24, Backbooth) – well, perhaps not the worst part – is that they
didn’t even wear them. Instead, we got this…
click to enlarge 
Christopher Garcia
The Bunny The Bear at Backbooth
Yes, the Bunny the Bear unmasked, otherwise known as the answer to a question no one asked. Anybody ever called for
ICP to perform
without make-up? Exactly. So now all we’re left with on the scorecard is the music.
On that count, they’re a
genre trainwreck of metalcore, pop and electronic that operates on the faith that they’ll pull it off not through taste or creativity but through sheer volume. It’s like these guys looked at the
Linkin Park model and thought that the
only thing wrong with that dynamic is that it’s too nuanced, or doesn’t have enough dance elements or… do I really need to go on here? Now, the bear (a role filled by a rotating cast) is a woman (Haley Roback), which adds a little
Evanescence whiff to the cheese party. There are some passable individual aspects here. But all together in this blender, it’s a
special kind of abomination.
Of the two openers I caught, Titusville’s
I Arrhythmist, though possessed of a little more genre focus, were equally indiscriminate in other ways. These young
tech-metal hopefuls came armed up to here with guitars and bass with
way too many strings to matter right now. The result, unsurprisingly, was a wanky clutter. But the destruction of a kid mannequin was involved, so there’s that.
Way on the other end of the spectrum was Minnesota opener
Kyle Colby, who strummed and wailed out
acoustic emo-pop so gooey that even
Chris Carrabba might consider the kid for an
atomic wedgie. He was likely included on the bill only because he plays bass in the headlining band, but poor little guy – so sensitive, so pained, so hackneyed. It ain’t easy carrying that sad little hat trick. All right, enough already. Too easy. Even I’m starting to feel bad now.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
This Little Underground is Orlando Weekly's music column providing perspective, live reviews and news on the city's music scene. Read the latest column here.
Follow Bao on Twitter (@baolehuu)
Email Bao: [email protected]
