Our site is now the holiday of Easter, bereft of religious connotations.

News is the word.
Beans beans, the musical fruit. The more you have the closer you are to a record contract!

OK, ok, grossly under-updated as this space is bound to become, it will revel for one last time in present glory!

We, Fetish Chicken, have almost been released from our hated slave bonds to resume a normal, peaceful life at the song farm.

Back in the spring, we recorded some songs for our friend's television production. There's supposed to be a corresponding interview, but word is we died shortly after the first session, and were unable to work an interview into our all-consuming schedule of death. Anyways, hopefully someday it will be accessible to the living.

Our friend/producer/pediatrician Chris is working to orchestrate a split 7" record with ourselves and the Slurred Murrays. That, too, may someday be in existence.

We'd like to thank the political elite everywhere for providing our sordid collective imagination with such hilarity!

If you'd like to purchase our latest record, Volume = Talent, you may visit Indie Music, at 307 Elm St, Milford NH. Tis a place of magic!

Somebody, who may or may not be coveting children, has forged a fan club. The online presence is hither. We do not stand behind their, or any, claim to the throne. Scotland!

Finally, please, please don't comment the Fetish of Chicken to say "Gee, guys, thanks for adding us." What? What does this bizarre convention mean? Save your thanks for when you get doored while you're riding your bike, and we see you hit the concrete, so we throw you in the back of the van, and after a few quick alterations, replace your ravaged limbs with whatever spare guitars we have. That would be truly praiseworthy. Don't let "thankyou" lose all meaning.

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