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You Live By The Sword, You Die By The Sword
Musicians who remain active in the recording industry for over 20 years usually become internationally famous and aim to save the world, or quietly cultivate a devout fan base by emancipating humanity one pair of ears at a time. Mark Pickerel—drummer, vocalist, and Ellensburg native—has followed the latter career path.
While in high school, Pickerel joined what would become one of the most notable—and yet most overlooked—bands of the grunge era. Seven years later, in the midst of Seattle's rock boon, the drummer left the Screaming Trees. Since 1992, Pickerel has played drums in another rock band (Truly), recorded with many much-loved artists (Dusty 45s, Brandi Carlile, Neko Case, etc.), and found his own singing voice. The second alt-country-ish album from Mark Pickerel and His Praying Hands, Cody's Dream, hit the street Tuesday.
We found Pickerel to be humble, well-spoken, and greatly appreciative of his influences and success. He's proud of his longevity, too, but doesn't think everyone needs to know he's been around so long. Sorry, Mark.
So I read a couple of odd things about you...the first on Wikipedia. Your entry says you're responsible for the term "Pickerel." What's that?
Are you serious? [laughs] It's getting yourself into a "Pickerel," like getting into a pickle. When you play the game a little too aggressively and reel more fish in than you know how to handle. It's quite fitting, considering my name comes from a fish. I had no idea that was out there.
This comes from your site, in reference to leaving Screaming Trees: "I won't take the time to describe where things went wrong for me, you can find the stories in any old tabloid from the day." Mind talking about what did "go wrong"?
I'll start by admitting my own failure, my own weakness. It's hard to describe the mental place that I was in at that time. I was only about 22 or 23. I'd been playing in one incarnation of Screaming Trees or another since I was 13 or 14. When you're in your early 20s and you've been doing the same thing for nearly a decade, with the same people, your perspective on how long life is and how much time you can invest in something—it's a pretty extraordinary amount of time when you're trying to become an adult.
I came from a very pacifist upbringing, which didn't equip me for the challenge of being in a band full of very verbal, aggressive personalities. I was always trying to play peacekeeper, but I wasn't very effective at it. I was also going through a lot of difficulties in trying to define my image and build my self esteem, and not getting very far with it in that environment. I felt like I needed to break away from the "family" to test my own strengths and see what I was capable of. Thus began the journey.
Someone asked me if I regret it the other day, and my regret is that I didn't have the strength to stay a little longer. I still look back on that and can't decide if that was a move I made out of strength or out of weakness. It's easy to say that now because I have better coping skills and ways to assert myself—it's a lot easier to say as an adult that I could have handled the situation better back then.
It sounds like you still have a lot of love and respect for Lanegan and the Conners.
Absolutely. Those guys are still a big influence on who I am today. The artists that they turned me onto as a teenager are still the bread on which I feed myself, musically. Gary Lee's songwriting skills left an impression on me that I wasn't even aware of at the time. Just being around someone who's so prolific and gifted....As a drummer, I wasn't really aware of what he was revealing, but I managed to absorb some of the concept and structure, the timing and tension and melody.
What made you move from behind the drums to the microphone?
Part of that was out of necessity. In my mid-20s, I was playing in Truly and occasionally on one of Mark's solo records. I found myself in a situation where I was only being asked to play drums in projects that were modeled after the Screaming Trees. That didn't appeal to me—I thought I'd already been in the best Northwest band, the best band of that genre. I was really frustrated, and could see that no matter how good I was, it would be very difficult to make a living solely as a drummer.
I also had a lot of ideas I wanted to pursue that were based on my interests in popular music from the 50s and 60s. I was really into rockabilly and country rhythm and blues, bluegrass and jazz. I didn't see a lot of other artists pursuing that field. There were guys like Nick Cave and his entourage doing it. There was X and The Cramps, but they were disbanding or doing side projects, so I saw an opportunity to try and exhibit some of these interests. I still survey the marketplace to see what area isn't saturated, and that's where I try to exist.
Speaking of ego, in 1989 you formed The Jury with Lanegan, Krist Novoselic, and Kurt Cobain. But all that personality and talent apparently didn't click—what happened?
I wouldn't say that it didn't click. It was a great and unique experience. The surprising thing was Lanegan operating with a slightly more humbled persona. He didn't exert a domineering personality in that environment. I have a feeling that the same was true for Kurt. There was a mutual respect in the room that was really refreshing. I felt like we could have been a creative force, but just as we were starting to develop, our band was being courted by Epic and they [Nirvana] were being courted by Geffen. We were working on Uncle Anesthesia. They went to work on Nevermind with Butch Vig. It was more a matter of circumstances, but I think both of those guys were so used to being band leaders that [The Jury] wasn't what they wanted as artists. I loved it, though. I would have loved to spend three years or more rehearsing, recording, doing a little bit of touring. It just wasn't meant to be, I guess.
So did you always have the aged-Johnny Cash-meets-Lanegan voice, or did you have to work on that?
When I was younger, I used to sing along to The Doors, Echo and the Bunnymen, Lee Hazlewood. I grew up on those records, but didn't think I had any personality as a singer. All I did was sing along with songs exactly as they were performed or sounded in my head. It hadn't occurred to me yet to play around with melody, or go to a different note than the singer. In church, when I would sing along to hymnals, I was always frustrated. So I started experimenting with my voice. If I got to a point in a song and found that my low voice couldn't go lower, I'd hit a hight note. It's like boxing—you see the opening and you go for it. Sometimes my voice cracks or I might be a little sharp, but I really enjoy it. Lanegan used to comment on what a good singer he thought I was back in the day. It was always encouraging to know that one of my favorite singers had an appreciation for my voice. It gave me confidence.
When I bought Snake in the Radio at Easy Street, I was told you worked there. True?
Yeah, mostly doing inventory-related things. I really enjoy it, though it looks like my time there will be expiring. I'm going to do some touring, and when I get back, my wife and I will be having a baby. Looks like I'll be doing a lot of stay-at-home parenting.
Congrats. Does that job reflect your love of music? You had your own record store, right?
Exactly. I did a tour about two years ago that was pretty costly, and didn't produce a lot of income. Halfway through it I played a show in New Orleans and Matt Vaughan, Easy Street's owner, was there. We struck up a conversation and I asked him if there was anything available at the shop. It's something that's in my blood. I've worked in record shops since I was 14 or 15. It's what I know and what I enjoy doing. I was a little worried that my pride might take a hit working in someone else's shop after owning my own for 13-plus years, but I've really enjoyed it. As an artist, that's a great environment.
Back during the Seattle rock explosion, would you have predicted you'd be making country music now?
I must have absorbed most of that as a youngster, more than I would have liked to at the time. I really resented having to hear so much country music. My dad and I moved into a house on Radio Road in Ellensburg. It was about 50 yards from the biggest country AM towers in the world. It was quite common to hear Dolly Parton or Waylon Jennings on the telephone line. Even FM rock stations would pick it up. I'd be trying to listen to Pink Floyd or Zeppelin and all of a sudden "Take This Job and Shove It" would interfere with the signal. I'd hear country music blasting out of big trucks, too, with guys throwing bottles at me. Telling me to "Get a haircut, faggot." It was the music that my enemies listened to. I had a really negative association with country music for a long time.
Screaming Trees' producer Steve Fisk did both of your Praying Hands albums. What's it like teaming with him again?
Very rewarding. Although spectators say we act a lot like an old married couple. Oftentimes other musicians in the room will laugh in disbelief at what they're witnessing. We really enjoy each other, and I'm a big fan of what he does, but people sometimes ask me, "Do you guys like each other?" [laughs] I say, "Of course we do! We love each other!" But it helps relieve the tension to be able to speak to each other so sarcastically. I think we're both constantly trying to prove to everyone else who's in charge.
Anyone else from Seattle's "old days" that you'd love to work with--or work with again?
I still feel like I haven't given my best to Neko Case or Mark Lanegan. I feel like I'd be in a much better position now to play drums on their records. And Brandi Carlile. I was really thrilled I had the opportunity to play on her first record. I felt there was a great chemistry there. I'm into really moody stuff, though, and I don't feel there's a lot of moody stuff coming out of Seattle.
Will you be involved with Sub Pop's 20th anniversary bash in July?
Well, they haven't shown much interest in what I've been doing for the last 10 years. Hopefully that'll change, because I'd love to do something with them in the future, whether it's a solo record or playing drums for someone on their label.
You know, I'm so excited about what I'm doing now, I'm not really interested in the nostalgic aspect. I tend to shy away from anything that calls attention to how many years I've been in this business. I'm not ready to play the Sha Na Na card yet. I'd just prefer to have people respond or not respond to what I do now as an artist regardless of my age or my history. If someone buys my record because they're a Screaming Trees fan, that's great, I'm glad that association led to a purchase. But I would hate it if three out of four purchases were based on something I did 20 years ago. So I try not to exploit that association any more than I have to. Sometimes I'll see something like "Mark Pickerel, ex-Screaming Trees and Nirvana, made a new solo record." I wasn't a member of Nirvana, and I never claimed to be. So far nobody's stopped me in the street...
And said, "Hey, you were in Nirvana!"
Well, they've said that. But no one's challenged me on it. So far nobody's said, "You motherfucker, going around saying you were in Nirvana? I'll kick your ass!"
So you're touring for the next month, at least. Then what?
I just got some dates in Austin for SXSW, and I get to be in the band that opens for X [at the Showbox] on March 30. Then there's a short tour to Chicago and back. This summer I'll be doing shows in the Northwest and possibly an Australian tour. I'm a full-time member of The Tripwires, and I think we'll record some new songs this summer. All kinds of stuff going on.
Mark Pickerel and His Praying Hands play the Tractor Tavern Saturday, March 8. // 9:30pm // 5213 Ballard Ave NW // $10 // 21+
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Per Capita, Ellensburg is the rock star producing capital of the world.