What can I say? Mary Carves the Chicken, to me, is the happiest place on Earth. It is the place where I get to be and do everything I could ever want (except get rich, apparently). MCTC has a strong country backbone; but we explore all kinds of genres, ranging from southern rock, to New Orleans funk and soul, to R&B, to our own genre, "meathead rock." Our audience, or co-participants, as we like to call them, are people who like it all...people who like the fusion of unlikely elements..people who like a band that takes chances. Our audience--and I can say this because I have heard it from them consistently for ten years now--are people who just don't want to hear the same thing over and over again for three hours straight. I have to give props to our audience, who I can only describe as "wide open." They are open, adventurous people who are not about to have their likes, dislikes and tastes dictated to them by the corporate powers that be. They are people who embrace our humanity; and don't want an image, or a concept. They cherish a mistake as much as they cherish a breakthrough. We've got the coolest friends in the entire world.

Most importantly, the Chickens explore the jam. We are spontaneous and daring; and will absolutely go where the moment takes us during a live show. We have, on occasion, had it fall apart a bit; but the bliss is well worth the gamble. If there is a place in my life where I am fully in the moment, and time stands still, it is in those blessed moments with my brothers in Mary Carves the Chicken, when we are three, four or five individuals so in sync (no, that's not an N'Sync reference) that we are almost heading in different directions, but there is absolute cohesion, somehow. We explore texture, which I love. What is texture? Well, simply put, it's the weaving of figure and ground. It is the leaving of holes and the filling of holes, along with the anticipation of your brother's next whim. It is a worm, sliding through the mud, and the mud closing forever right behind the worm, erasing any trace of a path to find later. It may sound corny, but, sometimes, in the middle of a tangent, I know for sure there is a God, and that that God is good.

The Chickens started in about 1994 or 1995. Bob Sherden and I met doing a benefit to pay health insurance for a woman with breast cancer. It was love at first note. Bob and I recorded our first record with drummer, Joel Alpers, and played out for a few years as a three-piece with Groove Merchants drummer Brian Lovins. I realized right away that Bob could do literally anything on the guitar. The man was born to play guitar. Look at Bob live, onstage, and he is often laughing outloud. How cool is that? You can not find a prettier and raunchier player embodied in a single human being on this planet.

Later, I moved to the Bay Area, and played for a while in a band with John Baker, whom I kept slipping demos and tunes from the Chickens. John raved about Bob's guitar playing, asking, "why would you want another guitar player? That dude just keeps on givin' it up." Well, Bob is an "on" guy. JB is an "in between" guy. I just thought the two were so complimentary that I had to have them both (no, that's not a 'have them' reference). Anyway, these guys love to go at it on stage, dueling, weaving in and out of each other--trying to spontaneously harmonize licks they have never heard nor payed before. The are so different, and yet so perfect together, I can not describe it. Some times, when I'm on stage, beside myself with good fortune at playing with two true masters, who are also just amazingly great people, I know for sure there is a God, and that that God is Good. John, by the way, is one of my favorite songwriters, right behind, well...me. Anyway, these days, John and I share the front man duties. He's a much different animal than I on stage. Oddly, he's Bob Weir on vocals, and Jerry on guitar. He's got a gritty, charismatic voice that has more character than you can imagine. His writing is pure heart. When I'm the back up man on a John Baker song, I just have to give it all I've got to try and represent it as beautifully as it should be. John, by the way, is the man at the center of Lotus Rush, which I highly recommend you check out at Cry Love Records, but only if you like really good music.

Mary Carves the Chicken
Bob Sherden, Dave Rhinesmith, John Baker, Page Jackson

Dave Rhinesmith. Dave came along with John. Dave is a guy who just loves the art of Drumming. He studies it. He can tell you who played what on just about any record ever done, down to the brand of drums, the heads used, and the sticks, brand and size. Dave has cojones of steel. He will take the Chicken challenge; and jump off into the unknown with the rest of us, feeling and finding his way through the darkness with finesse. Sometimes you can see it on his face: "oh, God, where are we going?" But he always gets us there; and he loves every minute of it. Dave is a bro for life.

Danny Keyes is often referred to as our Down-South drummer, or, as Dave calls him, the other woman. Danny is a hitter deluxe. He is a masterful, tight funky-ass monster on the skins. Danny was the Chicken drummer some years ago when we were just a three piece, until he was in an accident, and had to lay out for some years. These days, he plays most of our southern Cal shows. He is a steadfast bro, with a heart of gold, and chops to kill for.

Gary Pitman came along kind of late in the game. When I met Gary, he was the bass player for Cry Love act, Pure. I was very impressed at what a great player he was. I am not at all snotty; but that's saying a lot. I don't see a lot of bassists who truly impress me. Gary did. Only, see...Gary's primary instrument is keyboards. While he gives me a major run for the money on bass, and probably exceeds me in areas, he is even better on the keys. The man is a genius, as far as I'm concerned. Not only is Gary a great player--he can sing, and sing really, amazingly well. He has just begun taking on front dutes for the band; and it is very, very exciting. Gary is just beginning to bring songs to the table as well; and those, too, are very good. I don't consider myself a snotty man; but it is very seldom that I hear songs that I think have real merit. Gary's do. We're about to do MCTC 6, which, I firmly believe will be the best thing we've ever done, individually or collectively. SOmehow, ten years down the road, a new member has brought the band to its best place ever.

All this culminates in a really important theme for me. The Chickens don't have a flamboyant rock star in front of us. We are a collective. There is no ego war going on. You will not hear, years from now, that one of us left the band because he "didn't need those other losers," or that they were, "holding him back." We are guys who realize and appreciate the amazing beauty of the fact that what we do can not be done alone (except by that one-man band guy in Venice beach, of course). When One of us is fronting, the others are giving it their all. We are three, four and five people, keeping a ball up in the air, depending upon each other for the collective experience. We don't want it to touch the ground. We respect each other. Beyond respect, we support each other. Each of us wants to bring the others' talents to life.

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