Paul Pena. Live: Remarkably, a jet airliner is bringing the bluesman home

by Larry Katz

Friday, June 1, 2001

Comeback is too weak a word to
describe Paul Pena's return to the
stage. Call it a resurrection.

Or a miracle. Because less than a
year ago it seemed more likely that
Pena would be dead than that he would
be performing at the House
of Blues tomorrow and Sunday.

``My health is still not that
great,'' Pena says from San Francisco.
``But I'm trying. I'm doing this
thing in Boston on a hope and a prayer.''

Pena's first local shows in more than
20 years are the latest chapter
in a life story with more unexpected
twists and bizarre turns than a
Stephen King novel.

Born and raised on Cape Cod, Pena
(pronounced Pee-nuh) came to
Boston to attend the Perkins School
for the Blind. A soulful singer,
fiery guitarist and emotionally
direct songwriter, his musical career
took off after the 1969 Newport Folk
Festival and the release of his
debut album on Capitol Records.

Pena seemed set to break out in 1973
when he recorded a followup
for Bearsville Records with guests
including Jerry Garcia, Merle
Saunders and the Persuasions. But
when Pena declined to enter a
management deal with Albert Grossman,
manager of Bob Dylan and
Bearsville's owner, Grossman stopped
the release of the album,
allegedly because of artistic
concerns.

``That album was my heartchild,''
Pena says. ``To just be shelved
after all the work we put into it was
devastating.''

Pena's career was effectively ended.
After the death of his wife,
Babe, Pena's health and disposition
deteriorated in the 1980s. He
survived largely on the royalties
from a song from his unreleased
album, ``Jet Airliner,'' a 1977 Top
10 hit for Steve Miller.

While spending hours listening to his
shortwave radio in his San
Francisco apartment, Pena discovered
- and taught himself -
throat-singing, an art of the remote
Asian land of Tuva. His journey
to Tuva, where he won a
throat-singing competition in 1995, was
turned into the Oscar-nominated
documentary ``Genghis Blues.''

The success of the movie indirectly
led to last year's release of
``New Train,'' Pena's lost '73 album.
``It's like I said one night at a
gig,'' he says. ``Some women have to
wait more than nine months to
come to term when they're pregnant.
But waiting 27 years is
ridiculous.''

`New Train'' delighted critics and
fans with the best-ever version of
``Jet Airliner'' and a sound that
evokes Jimi Hendrix, the Grateful
Dead and Ben Harper. But Pena was too
debilitated from
chemotherapy for what was thought to
be pancreatic cancer to enjoy
the acclaim. The prognosis was grim.
Last fall, too weak to do a
phone interview, he wheezed responses
to my questions via tape.

Last week, Pena, 51, was talking on
the phone unaided. Turns out he
has pancreatitis, not pancreatic
cancer.

``I was misdiagnosed,'' he says, his
gruff voice rising with lingering
frustration. ``I was getting
chemotherapy unnecessarily for 14
months or more. Now I've got more
debt than I know how to count.
No way I'll ever get out of it.''

Pena has played only a handful of
dates in the past few months.
Performing is demanding and traveling
a hardship. At this point, he
harbors no dreams of a big payday and
bright future. On the contrary,
he even questions the value of his
dates at the House of Blues,
where he'll perform solo and then
with a band of local players
including keyboardist Bruce Katz.
After his mistreatment by the music
business, who can blame him?

But when told that he has fans in
Boston thankful for the chance to
see him play, Pena softens.

``I'll do what I can,'' he says. ``As
far as that goes, I guess I'm thankful, too.''