Every now and again, a band comes along that cuts deeper, drives faster – feels more. Lucky Horse Red are that band. Their self-titled debut, tracked over 30 blistering hours in a shack studio in Joshua Tree, is an introduction carved in scorched heat, slide riffs, and O’Keefe sunsets. Unpolished, uncompromising, gloriously unpredictable – it hums with desert air and the hiss of analogue amps. Born of motion and mayhem, Dennis Hopper dust and cosmic crooners, love, pain, sex, drugs. Long drives and short fuses. It’s the American story told through the deep, cinematic vocals of Bunny Gaubert – fronting a cult LA supergroup stitched from members of The Aquadolls, Twin Peaks, Babe Ruthless, Siam Jem and Thee Azmatics. It starts in smoke. Turns to static. Ends with speed.

Alex James Taylor: Hey Bunny, how’re you?
Bunny Gaubert: Howdy, I’m doing well. Our release show is this Friday, so I’ve been deep in prep mode. We’ve been practicing a lot, just tying up loose ends – like what champagne we’re going to spray on stage. [both laugh] Very important stuff.

AJT: I just want to say – it’s such a great album. It really stuck out right from the start, it has such an amazing, unique sound.
BG: Thank you so much. That’s so surreal to hear. Also – if you hear any noise, that’s my chickens. I have six.

AJT: Let’s talk about your voice – it’s so distinctive. When did you first start singing and when did you realise you had something special?
BG: Oh my God, I’m still not sure I can sing! Sometimes, to buffer the blow of how humiliating it is to release art, I’ll tell myself, “You don’t have to be a good singer to sing – you can just put shit out.”I definitely feel like I sound silly sometimes. I get on stage like, [in Bunny’s high-pitched Californian accent] “Thanks for coming,” and then this very low voice comes out. I’ve never really been a singer before this, but the band brought it out of me. I’m big into film, and when I was writing the album, I found a character within myself – the kind of character who would have this low, haunted voice. Something kind of scary. Like… what’s going on here?

AJT: So this is the first time you’ve released music at all?
BG: Yeah. First time making any music.

AJT: Wow, that’s crazy. Your voice has this real emotional grip to it. It’s really stirring and kind of scary – in a very good way.
BG: [laughs] So many people say that! My parents listened to it in the car once, driving to Malibu. It was playing “Fuck Me and Feed Me Bumps,” and my mom just goes, “What the fuck are you doing?” [both laugh]

“I found a character within myself – the kind of character who would have this low, haunted voice.”

AJT: You mentioned movies earlier. What films or directors fed into this album?
BG: Oh, that’s my favourite thing to talk about. Natural Born Killers was huge for me. I was in a long relationship with a very dangerous person, and when I saw that movie, I felt like, “Oh, there’s media for me out there.” It gave me permission to create. Girl on a Motorcycle, with Marianne Faithfull, was another one. Her song Guilt wrecked me. You know when you hear someone’s art and you’re like, “Someone else has felt this?” It’s powerful. The Long Goodbye, too – big California influence. There are a lot more.

AJT: Let’s talk about your band. It’s such a strong line-up – how did it come together?
BG: I didn’t know most of them before. I’ve known Colin Croom [from Twin Peaks] since 2016 when I was in Chicago. I was part of a really cool DIY scene – The Walters, Twin Peaks, The Orwells. A lot of energy. Colin heard some demos and was like, “I’ll throw some steel on this,” which was amazing. Mark, my guitarist, I found him in a grocery store. He looked super cool, so I walked up and asked, “Do you make music?” He said yes, and we talked in the fruit and veg section for a long time. [laughs] He brought in Mika [Rabina] , and my husband Lane is on a lot of the recordings too – he plays everything: drums, keys, guitar, bass, sax, synth. He’d crack open a beer, go into the studio for 30 minutes, and come back with a full track. Just insane. I used to work at Burger Records, and through them I met Kayla from The Aquadolls – she’s our bassist now. Her husband joined as a guitarist, too. We even have a harpist. It’s a proper LA supergroup.

AJT: It really is – ultimate LA crew. You recorded the album in Joshua Tree, I love it there. It’s so magical, and such a great place to write and create.
BG: It’s magic, right? I’d just done Playboy and had a bit of extra money, and I needed to just go. LA can be tough for recording – especially if you’re not a pro. I’m still learning all of this. We found Tommy [Dietrick], a legend out in the desert. He built his own shack studio, full of this unbelievable gear. My husband looked at the equipment list and was like, “How does this stuff even exist out here?” It wasn’t trendy or Instagrammable, it was just real desert energy. Authentic. Analogue. He nailed it. We recorded three songs there, and even improvised some on the spot. It was 30 hours over three days – intense, dusty, and exactly right.

AJT: You can hear that in the record. It’s baked into the sound.
BG: Exactly. After ten-hour days, we were delusional. We’d go line dancing at an outdoor bar in the middle of nowhere. Just fully immersed.

“After ten-hour days, we were delusional. We’d go line dancing at an outdoor bar in the middle of nowhere.”

AJT: I found your Sunday Morning Coming Down mixtape on Google – it’s a really great mix of country and folk, it’s clear that they run deep for you.
BG: Country is everything. My dad is all folk, all country, all the time. When I was in sixth grade, he put his record player in my room. Looking back, that was the coolest thing ever – but at the time, having friends over? Loser central. [laughs] But yeah, I was getting high on Rust Never Sleeps, Zuma, Buffy Sainte-Marie – those albums were foundational. My mom’s not into country, but she’s always supported whatever wild vision I have. She’s more Barbra Streisand and Fleetwood Mac. She’s cool as hell.

AJT: The album’s sequencing is so intentional. You start with Milk on Smoke & Fire, which is super sultry and raw, and then it ends with Route 66 is an Old Friend of Mine, which is this wild, loud highway drive. What was the thinking behind these choices?
BG: It had to start with “doing coke” – not literally, I feel like I have to say that for legal reasons – but that cinematic landscape. And it had to end like a movie, too. I didn’t want it to be a typical musical experience. I wanted weird textures. There’s a seven-minute experimental track with a two-minute sax solo no one will probably listen to. But that doesn’t matter – it’s meant to feel like a film. Soundtrack vibes, like when a movie soundtrack cuts to “walking down the hallway” – I wanted that feeling. The record ends with “This is a record by Lucky Horse Red,” breaking the fourth wall.

AJT: And what’s it like performing it live?
BG: That’s where I feel most confident. Releasing music is terrifying – people can dissect it any time. But live? It’s raw. I go wherever the vocals take me. Sometimes I’m like, “What just came out of my mouth?” We’ve played on metal line-ups, jazz line-ups, folk line-ups. We don’t fit in a genre – we just show up with a few songs that match the mood and go.

Lucky Horse Red’s debut record is out now.
Follow the band on Instagram.