THE PILGRIM: Paul K
By Pepsi Sheen

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Paul K. has been called, among many other things, "the only authentic bluesman of the post-punk era", a charge he scoffs at. "The idea was to become a pop star, not a bluesman." Paul K. is a national treasure. His songwriting is on par with Jim Carroll, Bruce Springsteen, Leonard Cohen, or Smokey Robinson, at their best. His literate, moving stories remind one of the most poignant, and disturbing books and films. Musically, he seamlessly blends folk, punk, outlaw country, seventies funk, British glam rock, art-fag dissonance, and sixties pop and soul influences - the brother's a walking Trouser Press.

I was first hipped to PAUL K. AND THE WEATHERMEN, 12 or 13 years ago, when the same radio D.J. who turned me on to Urge Overkill asked me to work the door at one of his moving performances. I was moved by his self-immolating rendition of Johnny Thunder's "You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory", but absolutely floored by two of his own effortlessly tossed-off originals: "Root Canal Blues", and "You Did Not Have To Leave Me In Tears". Those two songs were, like much of his oeuvre, of the variety that stick with you like a pin and ink, Baptist school tattoo-you need only hear them once, and they'll never completely fade from view. I remember how I was going through one of my bad break-ups at the time, and I got that fly-on-the-wall feeling you get sometimes, at your better 12-Step recovery meetings. Like the motherfucker had been SPYING on me. Telling my whole life with his words. He was killing phony rock'n'roll. If all he did was play guitar, he'd have a cult following of Television, Sonic Youth, and Wayne Kramer fans, but that's so, so secondary to his inspired song-smithing, that you almost forget that it's the same dude wrestling all those cinematic soundscapes outta wood and steel. His bands are always comprised of the finest young hotshit players around, many of whom, under his commanding tutelage, have gone onto fame and fortune with other groups like Wilco.

Born and braised in Detroit Rock City, a recurring theme of many of his songs, Paul K. was a personal friend of Townes Van Zandt (one of the most depressing songwriters who ever lived), as well as the recently departed sixties visionary, Arthur Lee. He squatted in hardknocks NYC during the punk rock era, and alot of stink's been made over the years over a mysterious criminal past, which he still struggles valiantly to atone for. Moe Tucker, from the Velvet Underground produced his arguably, most-accessible full-length, "Love Is A Gas", an album that channels the ghosts of sixties soulmen, and tips it's rat pack fedora to both Stevie Wonder, and Mott The Hoople. The hard fact is that PAUL K. is the actual embodiment of everything critic's darlings like Jack White, Jeff Tweety, and Ryan Adams get lauded for being. He's just always been way more commited to craftsmanship than careerism. He's usually toiling prolifically away in his own little garden, while the Spin Magazine fame-whores jostle to be photographed with Ryder or Posey. It took the Flaming Lips twenty-some years to really cross-over, and his faithful following hold forth optimistically, that he'll someday receive the recognition he so painfully deserves. Ideally, while he's alive to enjoy at least some of the amenities of stardumb. Paul has the moral convictions and political courageousness of a Woody Guthrie, or Joe Strummer, but refuses to work that oppurtunistic, "Utne Reader", liberal activist angle, like Billy Bragg, or Ani DiFranco. In fact, he's loathe to pander to anyone, including his own constituency. A cantankerous truth-teller, he hates phoniness, and is often most vigilant about exposing his own character defects. I'm shocked that no major label has ever signed the man, if only for his hipster-cachet, like other boutique artists, along the line of say, Tom Waits, or Van Morrison. They don't sell many records to 12 year olds, either. It's astonishing he's not more bitter-he regularly gives props to more ephemeral artists like Eminem, and the New Radicals. It's like everythings backwards in this Bizarro-Age.

Though he'd probably deny it, many hear his latest three-CD masterpiece as a cryptic concept album, about the Orwellian treachery and heartlessness of the Mya that envelops us all. Paul K. continues to serve the same function that Patti Smith used to, as the holy fool who tells the truth to the evil king, soothes the meek, and pulls the scales from our eyes. Remember how they used to call Public Enemy, "the black CNN"? Listening to Paul K. is like that-like reading Hunter S. Thompson--"with guitars!"

Beat Poet, charlatan, outlaw, intellectual, those sacred, rare kinda cats are essential to maintaining any type of positive karmic equilibrium in these profane and desperate years to come. Paul K. is a poet motherfucker and deserves alot more respect than he gets in this upside-down world. If you're down to understand what's really goin' down out there where the real winds blow, dig up a copy of his latest side, and thank me later. His many albums are available from www.paulkweathermen.com in the store section!

We recently e-mailed a whole slew of questions to the enigmatic and reclusive Paul K., these are the only ones he answered. Like I said, he's even loathe to pander to his own constituency.
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PEPSI SHEEN: Which nation will the U.S. invade next?

PAUL K.: Prolly Nigeria or Sudan...

PEPSI SHEEN: Leonard Cohen or Bob Dylan?

PAUL K.: Cohen.

PEPSI SHEEN: Shane MacGowan or Nick Cave?

PAUL K.: Nick.  A gentleman and a scholar.

PEPSI SHEEN: Paul Westerberg or Billy Bragg?

PAUL K.: Obviously, Westerberg.  Otherwise, Leigh would kill me, and she might read this.

PEPSI SHEEN: Lou Reed or Ian Hunter?

PAUL K.: Tough call. I guess my heart is still with Lou, although he has let me down many more times than Ian Hunter.  This is a draw.

PEPSI SHEEN: Buzz on fan message boards speculated that Moe Tucker was supposed to produce your latest? What's she up to now?

PAUL K.: We couldn't work it out.  She's seems OK though.  I'm not sure about any projects she may be working on.

Paul's newest full-length, "Panopticon" is a deluxe, three-CD package, signed and numbered with artwork co-created by a class of autistic children. It's predominantly about the war, death, espionage, depression, incarceration, futility, and no-such-thing-as-paranoia. You should have your own copy. Check out his website for an extensive list of his available merchandise. All his albums are relevant contributions.

-  Pepsi Sheen              

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