No Reckoning for Burger Records?

White rabbits have a long-standing reputation of being discreetly pulled out of tall black hats and from the coat sleeves of magicians. They are symbols of illusion and deceit.

It all feels too deliberate that the dismantled Burger Records changed its name to ‘White Rabbit’ last year. The change came after dozens of women in Southern California accused men affiliated with the record store and label of sexual abuse.

It took Casey Redd seven years to publicly come forward with her story of statutory rape. Seven years of concealing trauma and abuse perpetrated by Phil Salina, the singer of her favorite band, Love Cops, when she was only 17 years old. It was not until she was 24, reading the comments underneath posts by Burger Records, that she realized her experience was not unique, but in fact a common trend under the record label.

Coming forward with her story on an Instagram page called 'lured_by_burger_records,' Redd started a movement of women talking publicly about the culture around the indie-rock scene. Within a matter of days, dozens of victims anonymously shared their accounts of assault by bands tied to Burger Records.

Not long after, the ground underneath Burger Records and the accused bands began to tumble, and the label seemingly closed down, with many of the bands going quiet. But that did not last long.

One year after the Instagram page went viral and several stories were published about the abuse, it seems as though nothing has changed, but rather facades have been used as placeholders.

Where Burger Records once sat in a strip mall now lives White Rabbit Records. The former co-owner of Burger, Sean Bohrman, is a partial owner of White Rabbit, as well as a new record label, Super Villain.

Accused musicians, including members of the Black Lips and Nick Rattigan of Surf Curse, have done anything but lose momentum in the music world, announcing new tours and albums.

How did we get back here? Before we can delve into that, we need to fully understand how Burger Records became the incubator of sexual assault it grew to be.

Tucked away in a bland strip mall in Fullerton, Burger Records somehow became a staple hang-out for local bands and teenagers alike. The tiny record company grew from an unassuming shop to a mega-label, hosting indie musicians and giant music festivals in Southern California.

Burger Records was the place to be for music lovers and misunderstood teens in Los Angeles. “There weren’t other spaces in so-cal like what Burger Records created,” Redd said. When all that was offered in her hometown was the mall or church, going to all age shows every weekend “was a total game-changer.”

The owners, Sean Bohrman and Lee Rickard, were the ‘cool’ adults who identified themselves as ‘permateens’ (permanent teenagers) even though they were well into their 30s.

They didn’t like paperwork or contracts because they weren’t into formalities. They allegedly gave underage kids alcohol and drugs in the backroom and called their female fans ‘burger babes.’ They were infamous for inviting fans, many underage, backstage at their shows to drink and mingle with the bands.

Casey Redd is now 25 years old, but she was once a young teenage girl who loved indie music and DIY concerts, before her world was shattered after a member from her favorite band allegedly raped her when she was 17. Phil Salina was the lead singer of Love Cops and 29 years old when Redd claims the assault took place in a car in the parking lot of Burger Records.

Lured By Burger Records founder, Casey Redd.

After several years, Redd finally felt ready to share her story on Instagram and it completely shook the Los Angeles music scene. The account was a platform for women to come forward who had been groomed, harassed, and/or sexually assaulted by bands under Burger Records.

“What pushed me to create the ‘Lured by Burger Records’ account was a mixture of re-traumatization, anger and release,” Redd said.

Some of the women were close friends of Redd's, like long-time concert pal Taylor Kourkos.

Kourkos was 16 years old when she attended her first Burger show. She, like many other teens, hung out in the backroom of the record shop where she recalls creepy older men, drugs and beer.

It was not an ideal scene, but as someone who grew up in suburbia like Redd, she jumped on every opportunity she had to get out and experience the world.

Taylor Kourkos shares her experience as a young girl in the so-cal music scene

It was not long after that Kourkos alleges she and singer Matt Schamlfeld, from the band Audacity, began to have a sexual relationship that stemmed from flirty messages over social media. According to Kourkos, Schamlfeld was 21 and aware that she was underage—aware enough to ask her not to tell anyone about their relationship because he might get into trouble.

After deciding to come forward on the page and being interviewed by the Los Angeles Times, Kourkos stands disappointed in the reality that publicly reliving her trauma has not stopped abusers in the slightest.

“What I wanted out of this most importantly wasn’t for the guys just to get in big trouble,” Kourkos says. “I wanted a sincere apology not only to me but to the other fans that they made uncomfortable.”

After the initial allegations, several bands dissolved, as well as Burger Records. Bands accused and disassembled include the Buttertones, No Parents, Love Cop, and the Growlers.

While this may allow a deep breath for some of the women abused, other bands that are still alive and well in the LA music world a year after the allegations.

After starting the Instagram account, Redd said she spent 18 hours a day reading stories women had messaged her; stories of groping, rape, and innapropriate requests by bands under Burger records.

Months were dedicated to revealing the truth behind these musicians. Women re-lived trauma to warn others. The L.A. Times wrote a piece on the matter, as well as several other prominent publications. But somehow, a year later, not much has changed.

Accused bands are back to touring and selling out venues nationwide. Sean Bohrman continues to be the owner of the rebranded Fullerton shop, while Lee Rickards has fully stepped down.

Bohrman has gone on to start his new label, which specializes in “evil rap reissues on vinyl, cassette, and compact disc,” according to the record label’s Instagram account. He uses the alias ‘Dokter Rev. Shaw’ on the social media pages, possibly to keep a low profile in the scene.

Kourkos cannot help but be frustrated, feeling as though the published pieces against the bands and label did not have the effect she was hoping for.

“They just don’t really care,” she said. “They were just, like, inconvenienced by all of this. That’s all it was."

If the bands continue with their careers, it becomes the responsibility of the attendees and concert venues to create safe spaces for underage women. According to Kourkos, she believes that not allowing alcohol sales at all age shows would make a substantial difference. She says she was often bought drinks by much older men while underage. Redd thinks that venues should “create and implement an accountability process.”

Burger Records thought they could pull a white rabbit out of their sleeve, but the store and label’s facade has fooled nobody affected the abuse, especially the victims waiting for justice. The pattern of their actions is far from uncommon in an industry that has allowed women and young girls to be sex objects since the beginning.

“If abusers don’t have people in their life willing to hold them accountable,” said Redd, “nothing will change.”