From the wild and wooly and weird Pacific Northwest, Mark Pickerel has quite the back story. He was the drummer in seminal grunge faves The Screaming Trees, and has played on albums with Mark Lanegan, Brandi Carlile, Neko Case and some band from Aberdeen named ... er ... um ... Nirvana or something like that. He even owned the most culturally and musically diverse record store in Eastern Washington. Independent retail, now THAT'S a character builder.
"Whoa Nelly," you're saying to yourself, "a drummer becoming a front man? Is that such a good idea?" Sure, the track record ain't good; Don Henley, Dave Grohl, Mickey Dolenz, Phil Collins, RINGO STARR. That Peter Criss shit was pretty bad too, the ironic value of "Beth" notwithstanding. It's a serious stigma to overcome.
Mark's got the goods, though. He was born to be in front. With his rakish good looks and his tendency to spend more than $3 on haircuts, he quickly endeared himself to the ladies of the office. His voice, alluring and just a little bit sinister, evinces his influences ranging from Leonard Cohen, Lee Hazlewood, the Gun Club, the Stranglers and Nick Cave.
Running that record store all those years sure did its damage...