Mr. Bungle

Conceived 15 years ago in a part of Northern California that is knows as the nation’s capitol of heartburn, domestic violence and testicular cancer, Mr. Bungle has overcome these obstacles and, in fact, embraced their Humboldt County roots as the catalyst for their dark, irregular, forbidding music.

Originally founded as a death metal quartet donning halloween masks, the band played locally, appropriately changing their style to fit each gig. Whether it be a school-sponsored talent show, a hillbilly bonfire at the beach, punk rock evictions, birthday parties at the hospital, hippie blues jams or lunchbreaks at the pulp mill, Mr. Bungle was always prepared to set the right mood. Needles to say, it was constant wavering that drove the band to the brink of insanity. Eventually they were showing up at the wrong gig with the wrong set of music prepared, and were forced to improvise or simply take chances of offending their guests. The band remains in this position today.

In 1991, Warner Bros. Records released Mr. Bungle’s self-titled debut, which became an underground classic for young geeks and nerds who were already sick of rock music. It was at this point that Mr. Bungle claimed they were not a ‘real band’ but, in fact, a toy band. Small, helpless circus riffsadolescent clown melodiessaxophones, distorted bass, out-of-tune guitarsall contributed to further alienating the band from people expecting repetitive avant-gardism, and/or danceable music.

The band toured the States and made a bunch of money.

In 1995, Warners released Disco Volante, an album that further explored the realms of faux-jazz, fake tango, pseudo-surf, false metal, doppelgangers and aimless soul searching. Some people were offended that parts of the record were written in a secret, ‘other worldly’ language. Others were offended that parts of the record were not written in a secret language.

The band toured the States, Europe, and Australia in a cargo van, got real sick, went bankrupt and started writing music for oboe, cymbalum, french horn, accordion, timpani, and guiro.

Mr. Bungle’s third cd is evidence of a rock band pretending to have roots in rock music. More meticulously orchestrated, more guided by mistake than their previous releases, they continue on a roll of self deprecation while writing music that is out of the range of their instruments.

The new album, entitled California, explores an ambiance new to the band, conjuring up the sultry dance moves of Cyd Charisse and Fred Astaire; digging through the graveyard of riffs to find English Pop, Elvis, Neil Diamond and Michael Jackson. The album is sure to alienate those expecting weird meter-changes and heartless vulgarities. To be sure, this is Western music, chockful of backbeats, strings and vocal harmonies. But like the original 49ers, the listener is heading into a desert land of draught and famine-the dark side of the California dream.

Topics of charity, gregariousness and escapism are accompanied by those of suicide, retribution and apostasy. The band somehow proves to themselves, once again, that they cannot escape their twisted past, or their twisted future. And like Hollywood, the underbelly is glossed over with major chords, sparkling glockenspiels, exotic percussion, fuzz guitars, tears of joy and plastic smiles. And it’s all in Technicolor, breathtaking Cinemascope and stereophonic sound! Music to be listened to under the warmth of the cancer-inducing sun. It’s danceable, it’s singable. Grab an umbrella and join the slaughter!