It’s Always A Party When Paul Cauthen Takes The Stage REVIEW+PHOTOS: Paul Cuathen at Palomino Fest 7/9/22
LOS ANGELES, CA- Y
“… His drummer was wearing a James Worthy jersey. Enough said. Fort Worth tapping into some Showtime / Chili Pepper energy for this LA performance. It was a good start before they started. When the set did begin, I realized that I recognized everyone on the stage: The dude who’d been hanging in the crowd who was noticeably taller and a bit bigger than most – that’s Paul. The smaller dudes milling about who had seemed a bit too sexy and cool for the gen-pop crowd, they were up onstage too. Welcome the band.
I’ve only seen Paul play once before and it was the same thing – if he and the boys aren’t on stage, they’re in the crowd. Because it doesn’t matter whether or not it’s him headlining the SHOW, if he’s playing the show, it’s Paul Cauthen’s PARTY.
So let’s party. Hard.
Paul opened the set with “Cocaine Country Dancing” and it absolutely ripped. Texas and California will always lock horns in an existential battle for western state primacy (if we can, for the moment, call Texas west) but there’s so much mutual love buried in that competition. There’s a sexiness to the idea of Hollywood that infatuates Texas. And a romance to Texas that has always gripped Hollywood. These guys gotta love being out in LA, and I’d wager LA loves them right back. The crowd most certainly did.
The beauty of Paul is that his voice is 100% country. Irretrievably country. Like a plug of Waylon’s beard was cultured in a radioactive petri dish and grown out into a 6’5” 240 beast with a guitar. He can rock as hard as he want and you’ll still know who it is. You’ll still know where it’s from.
Between songs, as if the stage was a construction site or a barn, Paul thumb-blew some snot followed by a fat luggi and I’m not sure anyone even noticed. And why would they. He exudes an authenticity that paves over any incidental bodily functions. Too much awesome to sweat the small stuff.
Don’t need to know his music to love his songs. Don’t need to care whether he’s fetishizing or making farce of the devil’s talc and debauchery. Every song sounds like you’ve been screaming along with it for years. Whether it’s a ballad or a scorcher, you accept big man’s invitation to cocaine cowboy church.
As this literal bear of man gyrates on stage it’s impossible to not get intoxicated — literally or by proxy — with the brute sexiness of this honky tonk disco rock. He’s a devil and an angel and I think likes being both. He’s big velvet…”