The band Van Halen used to infamously demand M&M's be provided backstage, with all of the brown candies removed. Local band The Yarrow will take M&M's -- even the brown ones -- but would rather receive canned food backstage.

That's because the rock quintet has taken the unprofitable yet admirable pledge to donate all proceeds to Provo's Community Action Services and Food Bank. The band sets up bins for canned food donations at each concert.

"We don't have a lot of money, but we have a talent we can share with the community to help," said Mitch Mallory, lead guitarist and singer for the band.

The pledge originated when Mallory and his friend Jeff Harris played a gig last year and got paid $35. The money, split between the two, wouldn't do much for either of them -- but they believed it would do wonders for the local food back, which is being forced to help serve more than 75 new families every week with few new donors.

Mallory's mother used to work at the food bank, but the philanthropic ideas came from the missions four of the band members served for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Mallory, 23, a Brigham Young University senior, served in New Zealand; keyboardist Harris, 24, a recent BYU grad, served in Brazil; guitarist Morgan Williams, 23, a soon-to-be University of Utah student, served in New York state; and drummer Kraig Jacobsen, 23, a Utah Valley University sophomore, served in Indiana. (The other member is Utah Valley University grad Kyle Owen, 24.)

"I assumed my rich-white-kid background was the norm, but I saw poverty [during my mission] that made me grateful and guilty for what I had," Williams said.

"It was really humbling to work with great people who had far less than I did," Harris said.

So, instead of pocketing cash from concerts, the men went to Community Action Services in January and asked how they could help.

The offer to help came at a critical time, said Erica Hone, communications director at Community Action Services. Requests for help have increased more than 50 percent within the past year, Hone said, with the agency serving up to 2,300 families a month.

In the music industry, the idea of bands supporting causes is as familiar as, well, posters littering telephone poles announcing Rock the Vote concerts.

Yet The Yarrow's pledge to give all its earnings away doesn't mean the musicians aren't serious about their music. They say they generally play for the fun of performing, yet many of their original songs -- a blend of modern rock and early 1990s grunge, with sing-along choruses -- show drive and collaboration.

The group of Lone Peak High School grads (except for Owen, who attended Orem High School) are lifelong friends, but say they don't know how long the current lineup will last. (The day The Tribune interviewed Harris, he had just received an acceptance letter to California's Pepperdine Law School.)

"We have no doubt that our music is going places, but we will never give up our obligation to the community," Mallory said.

While the band claims to be serious about its commitment to the less fortunate, the musicians don't take themselves too seriously. Each band member adopts an alternate ego when they play: Mallory is Vic Kickstart; Harris is Freddie Masters; Jacobsen is Krash Mason; Williams is Jonny Murdock; and Owen is Baron Helmut von Zuhalter.

But why should these do-gooders have to follow Batman's lead and wear disguises? Their well-intended spirit should be welcomed, and inspire others to do likewise.