Gram Rabbit Cultivation Rar
Deserts are known for being barren, but the high desert around Joshua Tree, California certainly gives rise to a lot of life. And not just of the mouse and lizard variety. Many different shades of the human animal can be found there: wealthy L.A. Hipsters on “back to nature” retreats; peyote-addled society shunners who claim to have visions of god; soldiers on weekend leave from Twentynine Palms.
The music that’s come baked out of that sand has been diverse as well. Legendary psych-folkers such as Captain Beefheart and Gram Parsons found their muse in the area. Kyuss refracted that sound through thick bong smoke. A little Irish four-piece you may have heard of named its best album after the location. And it even hosts a yearly rave second only to Burning Man for desert debauchery. The members of Joshua Tree-based four-piece Gram Rabbit try to blend all of these elements together on their second full-length, Cultivation.
Results vary. First, the novelty factor has to be dealt with. The band’s lead singer calls herself Jesika von Rabbit, and the members profess to espouse the views of a cult named the Royal Order of Rabbits. Why more and more bands feel the need to employ this level of kitsch is baffling. Wasn’t the ‘ early music just damn awesome enough that they could’ve done without the color-coded outfits, confusing relationship back story and faked British accents?
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Does always have to dress according to the theme of his latest album when playing live? All the funny bunny stuff could be forgiven if Cultivation were a better album. At least the acts name-checked above aren’t ripping off the usual laundry list of late-’70s post-punk bands so in vogue right now. Graham Rabbit’s music should be more original. But too many tunes, even though they aren’t necessarily guitar-based, fall into the old / quiet-loud-quiet verse-chorus-verse trap. “,” “ ” and “Sorry” are all guilty as charged. More original moments do bubble up.
Opener “Waiting in the Kountry,” propelled along by a heavy bass groove, with von Rabbit singing about “smoking in the desert” (and we all know what they’re smoking), starts things out nicely. It’s something Madonna might even try in a whacked-out Kabbalah haze. “,” the only track on which von Rabbit lets bassist Todd Rutherford take lead vocals, is very Byrds-ian, echoing back to how American in origin the sound that is playing so well these days is. “Charlie’s Kids” makes for creepy juxtaposition: a song with a childlike melody that’s obviously about the Manson Family. And “Jesus and I,” very Jefferson Airplane, should find a fitting home on David Fincher film soundtrack, with the intoned question “Is this real?” spinning around in the background. But the album sputters to a weak end. “Crossing Guards with Guns” has nothing going for it.
Rabbit Cultivation
“Follow Your Heart” seems all empty tongue-and-cheek in its attempt at uplift. And “Hares Don’t Have Tea” is an odd noise-experiment coda. If the members of Gram Rabbit truly are the leaders of a cult, they need to start concocting some better-tasting Kool-Aid. Gram Rabbit Web site: Stinky Records Web site: Streaming audio.