Bunny Claws: The Founding

I lost my job at Shasta’s eco-bar, which was totally find with me.  I didn’t need it anymore.  I had found Chai, and we were going to be the biggest band in the world.  We started working on material the first night we met.  In fact, we had pretty much cranked out at least an EP’s worth of tracks by the time the sun had come up.  Songwriting with Chai was easier than finding a Williamsburg brunch spot that served bottomless mimosas on Sundays.  Every chord he played, every lyric I spat—it was all gold. 

The morning after, Chai told me that he was friends with all of the people at Glosscoat Records, the label that started so many of my indie rock idols.  Over bottomless mimosas at the brunch spot on his corner, he told me that all we needed to do was record a quick demo, bring it over to the guys at Glosscoat, and we would probably be signed by the end of next week.  After we’d tied on a solid buzz, we went back up to his loft to work on more material.  By 8 AM Monday morning, we had finished our first album.

Over the course of the next week, we recorded.  We nailed every song on the first take, obviously.  While the CD was burning, we started brainstorming what to call ourselves.  We wrote down random words on little slips of paper, words like Quilt, Hammer, Elk, Nine, Void, and so on.  We each pulled one word out of the pile of papers, and vowed that whatever words were written there would be the name of our band.  I pulled CLAWS.  He pulled BUNNY.  We celebrated with cigarettes and two cans of 4 Loko he had been saving for a special occasion.