Hopping madness

by Jack Oatman

Brooklyn-based duo Bunny Rabbit and Black Cracker combine pouty-lipped, pottymouthed verses with dirty, bouncing bedroom beats to create something between an angst-ridden confessional and a back-alley shakedown. Producer Black Cracker’s lowbrow beats integrate moody string samples, jangling chimes and wailing electric guitar with squealing synths and sinister basslines. When combined with Bunny Rabbit’s whimsical demeanour and raw grumblings, the finished product comes across as a corrupted caricature of trip hop.

The duo will be making their first appearance in Montreal at Club Lambi for the Mashup Mayhem event (the unofficial Arcade Fire after-party) this Saturday, before returning to New York to release their new album, Lovers and Crypts, the title track of which is a teeth-clenching cat-call that takes it cues from crunk and indie rock alike, and has an art-school nightmare for a video. The Mirror chatted with Bunny Rabbit about gods, devils, cotton candy and cherry lime-aid.

Mirror: What does your name, Bunny Rabbit, signify?

Bunny Rabbit: Comfort and innocence. A veil of Snow White in the face of a world full of wrinkles and gunshot wounds. Oprah and To Catch a Predator. A sweet and cotton-candy affection that can bite you right in your ass, but you love it ’cause that’s how you like it, ’cause that is how we live it.

M: What got you into making music?

BR: The desire to share dirty secrets with the gods, devils and everyone in between. The fear of failure and the rush of insecurity that made Van Gogh so great. Life is my brother and these attempts at songs are sealed with no return address.

M: I feel like there’s a definite wave of independently produced hip hop coming from young, female artists right now—Yelle, Uffie, Kid Sister and so on. What do you think is behind this mini-fad?

BR: Fads are created by fans and Bunny will not discriminate. If particular communities want to worship and partake in her blood, then she will not betray, but Bunny is not thin. She is no black ice. She is influenced by every millisecond of life experienced, by every eyelash bowed before her, by the sounds of missiles above birthdaycake cheer. Life itself is the most wondrous fad of them all and Bunny is proud to be down with that movement, one breath at a time.

M: You’re based in NYC, but where are you originally from?

BR: Where broken hearts come out to play on glitter-covered streets, reflecting laughter onto the skin of a sorrowful sun and warming the candy globe until they pop like soda.

M: What’s the live set-up like?

BR: It’s like cherry lime-aid spilled out in the centre of an ice rink with cherubs as stars and an audience full of dolphins on the run from the law. Black Cracker in the shadows, punching holes in the wall, because her pet MIDI cables got into the garbage again. Laugh. Cry. Hate. Hold hostage a bunch of roses in your hand.