Ian,
I think what really is at risk here is not just a bunch of new courses attempting to create the raw-edged bunkers and doing pale imitations, but more a digression from site-specific originality and integration of design features with each individual, unique locale.
Ideally, I think bunkering should reflect what is uniquely native to each site. For instance, although I haven't been there, I conceptually like the idea of Nicklaus' Old Works in Montana, where the "sand" is actually black dark silt from the mining works the site is built upon. Similarly, the bunkers at Hurdzan/Fry's Sand Barrens course in NJ is largely just turf ripped away and dug into the orangy, sandy natural undersoils. Unfortunately, they have imported more traditional bunker sand for the greenside ones, leaving it looking aesthetically inconsistent.
Of course, not every site has such natural advantages, but in the case of courses with dense clays, or poor drainage, creative architects such as William Fownes instead went for multiitudes of shallow (until recent changes) but imaginatively diverse bunkering schemes, such as church pews, trenches, tabled rows, and other interesting concepts that gave the course a singular character.
It seems the fundamental issue facing today's architects in bunker design is that the same style bunker that might look great on a rugged coastline doesn't necessarily translate as well to a desert or parkland or rural site. It seems to me that the ideal way to avoid such repetition and incongruity with site aesthetics is simply to listen to what they land is saying at each site, and then try to imaginatively integrate man-made features in a way that makes sense from a visual and playability standpoint.
The irony is that over time some of the architects who practiced site-specific bunker variation during their careers, like Donald Ross, have been tagged with a stereotypical style these many years later. So, perhaps we're all just doomed to be labelled with whatever image is perceived as our best work.