20 Signs of Life From 2003

One huge tabby, Thumper, sits like a sandbarred tugboat beneath the bed, peeking out between two acoustic guitars. Another curious Calico named Pink strolls the length of the coffee table, poking her head into every stray drinking glass, just to sample each liquid. And their owner—ex-Red-House -Painters/new-Sun-Kil-Moon frontman Mark Kozelek—reclines in his living room chair, watching them with delight and purring over his pampered pets. “A lotta people come in here and they like my cats,” he notes, extricating Pink’s nearly-stuck nose from a water goblet. “And then some people don’t know what to do—if one of the cats wants to jump on their lap, they totally freak out.”

Love me, love my cats? And then some. The felines inspire him, sighs Kozelek. As does the view from this lofty Telegraph Hill apartment, encompassing a good deal of scenic San Francisco, including the Golden Gate Bridge. He’s lunching on milk and doughnuts from his favorite local bakery, and they lift his spirits as well. After the recent deaths of a couple close friends (including the doughnut shop owner), the singer swears he’s developed “a new appreciation for the day. I think I’m trying to really appreciate life, the here and now, and trying to not trip out about things that are actually very minor. Not that I’ve finally gotten there, but I’m making an effort to live in a better way and not take things for granted.”

Ergo—after six ethereal RHP discs, three solo sets, an AC/DC cover collection, and an acting role as Stillwater’s bassist in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous (he’s the guy who breaks tourbus silence by warbling along to “Tiny Dancer”)—the shimmer-throated singer/guitarist has arrived at Ghosts Of The Great Highway, the surreal metal-meets-Americana bow of his latest project, Sun Kil Moon. And No, it’s not named for some kooky cult leader, chuckles Kozelek, as he grabs a book of legendary boxers from his history-heavy shelf. Sung-Kil Moon was a Korean pugilist, he clarifies; He liked the poetic sound of the syllables so much he adopted them for his group. Kozelek points to a scruffy mug shot in the book. One folksy Ghosts track, “Pancho Villa,” was based—not on the Mexican bandit—but this Filipino pugilist who died in the Bay Area back in 1925, he explains. Cause of death (thanks to missing teeth and that era’s poor medical standards) was blood poisoning. Another conversely powerchorded cut, “Salvador Sanchez,” was sketched from one of Villa’s sparring partners.

Is there a motif winding through this set? The loping opening ode to Judas Priest, “Glenn Tipton,” kicks off with a humorous “Cassius Clay was hit more than Sonny Liston/ Some like K.K. Downing more than Glenn Tipton.” Eventually, Kozelek serpentines the song into a touching tribute to his late bakery acquaintance. He’s proud to acknowledge his Rob Halford roots, he adds. “And I like a lot of prog-rock stuff, too. And a lot of that’s really evident in the early Red House Painters—a friend of mine suggested that we wouldn’t have existed without the first Yes album, and he’s right. I grew up with that music.”

Thereby shattering the mythology that’s pegged Kozelek (whose once-long mane is now trimmed to a polite business cut) as one of the most sensitive, somnolent songwriters of his generation? Hey—so be it, he laughs. “I feel like throughout my career—if that’s what you wanna call it—I’ve always surprised people. Always. Maybe in the beginning, I put two or three records out that were very similar. But an AC/DC record? My John Denver tribute? Maybe even having a part in Almost Famous. I always feel like there’s something new happening, and I do have a sense of humor.

"With Sun Kil Moon, I really wanted to do something new, and I didn’t want people going ‘Oh, a Mark Kozelek record—I’ve heard about what *he* does.’ I wanted it to be like ‘Hey—Mark Kozelek’s in this new band!’ Plus,” he concludes, as Pink pounces on him and curls up in his lap, “I just thought it’d be really boring to have T-shirts that said ‘Mark Kozelek’ on ‘em.”