Paul Cauthen

Whether he knows it or not, every man lives by a code. And for country provocateur Paul Cauthen, that code is diabolically simple. Always bet on yourself.

A singer-songwriter with a long, well-documented distaste for playing by anyone else’s rules, the East Texas native has spent the better part of two decades clawing his way through the country underground, embodying the independent spirit – and expressing it through a monolithic “Big Velvet” vocal. Fusing classic-country grit, gospel power, and a rhinestoned rock-and-roll edge, four previous albums proclaimed his singular style with a booming baritone and near-biblical swagger. But for his fifth LP, Book of Paul, Cauthen writes his code in permanent ink. 

“It’s just being who you are – unapologetically yourself – and that’s every one of my records,” Cauthen says. “Does it dance? Does it make you cry? Does it make you feel? As far as I’m concerned I’ve made it already. I can already do whatever I want musically. And when you get to this point you look back. I have built my whole career going against the grain, and that’s what this record is. The freaking trials and tribulations of Paul. It’s everything I wanted on an album.”

That hard-headed certainty has always made Cauthen stand out – and so has his stunning vocal, as rich and deep as crushed velvet. Neither one comes out of nowhere. Taught to sing by his grandfather in an East Texas Church of Christ, Cauthen first hit the scene with the roots duo Sons of Fathers in 2009, only to strike out on his own. A visionary from the start, his 2016 solo debut My Gospel unveiled a vulnerable, fire-and-brimstone songwriter with a brazen Texas attitude – craving deliverance, yet possessed by a “bird dog” instinct for theatrical rapture. 

Carrying on with the albums Room 41, Country Coming Down, and Black on Black, each new release had an enigmatic “it factor,” somewhere in the ether between Waylon Jennings, Elvis Presley, and Jerry Lee Lewis. Raucous live shows filled with steel-toed rhinestones and gothic roots rock brought favorites like “Cocaine Country Dancing” and “Fuck You Money” to life. And while touring the world, Cauthen collaborated alongside Margo Price, Orville Peck, Elle King, Midland, Cody Jinks, and Lana Del Rey, among others. Lately, Cauthen’s striking feature on Shaboozey’s “Last Of My Kind” has led to an RIAA-GOLD certification, and as tastemakers from Rolling Stone to The Austin Chronicle fell under his spell, 442 million global streams piled up.

With Book of Paul, Cauthen continues both his streak of against-the-grain attitude, and his genuine fascination with spiritual truth. But at this point in his career, he’s less interested in the wild-eyed abandon of revival, and more in his own path. A path of utterly authentic country music; fearless, proud, and with two middle fingers in the air. “I wanted to take it back to my roots and where it all began in East Texas,” he says. 

Cauthen wastes no time getting to his point. Led by his burly, vibrato-laden baritone, “Book of Paul” opens the album on a minimalist mix of acoustic guitar and snare, as the troubadour confesses to his wild side, while wrestling with the sin. He spares no detail – and makes no compromise.

“If you look at the Bible, there is no book of Paul,” he explains. “I just wanted to write something that embodies me, because I’m sick of hearing records catered to what’s hot and what’s working. Me, I’ve always been this country boy, East Texas guy. Roots, rock and roll, Texas gospel. If you look back at all my albums, I’m proud to say I meant everything I’ve said.”

Projecting that same honesty, Cauthen swears each one of these songs was “earned” the hard way. Co-writing 12 of 13 tracks over two sides, he chose a new production team for Book of Paul, tapping the strengths of longtime family friend and chart-topping co-writer Ryan Tyndell, plus Steve Rusch (Jessie Murph, Koe Wetzel), and Sam Martinez (Tyler Braden, Carrie Underwood). Fustin (Priscilla Block) and Nate Ferraro (Beyoncé) also played a role, and together they captured Cauthen’s unruly essence with all the charm of a rattlesnake (and the vocal venom to match). He even played bass and drums on select tracks, making sure each song had the twisted backbone he craved. “It’s a nitty gritty, swampy, East-Texas-muddy-roots kind of feel,” Cauthen says with pride. “My claws are deep in it.”

Tracks like “Texas Swagger” serve as a mission statement, with its bronc-bucking beat, dark twang, and barely contained sense of danger. Cauthen started off with a frenetic guitar riff and some eerie “yee haw” background vocals, then added a strong dose of Big Velvet attitude.

“If all else fails, fucking just remember where you came from,” he proclaims, noting he co-wrote the track with Rob Ragosta and Martinez, who also produced. “We got it hot and cooking, put a little drumbeat on it, built that son of a bitch in 30 minutes. I was like ‘Alright, last time I felt like this was ‘Cocaine Country Dancing.’ It’s got a really fierce feel to it. It’s danceable as shit.”

Meanwhile, Cauthen puts his code to the test on “Dark Horse,” a cosmic-Western ballad fueled by epiphany he calls “a long ride on the back of a mule on a bunch of mushrooms.” The lonesome “Road Dog” recalls the bleak resignation of Johnny Cash’s “Hurt,” with coyote yips and an acoustic-industrial vibe. And with the warm, relaxing shimmer of ‘70s rock, “Cigarettes & Billy Graham” burns with an easy self acceptance – an anthem for those preachers of the open road.

Elsewhere, Cauthen enters a kind of voluntary lockup with the hypnotic, outlaw-country romance of “Ain’t No Crime,” and taps a “Chattahoochee” groove for the hazy, summertime twang of “Tossin’ Back Time” (feat. Jake Worthington). “Kids are going to learn how to water ski on that shit,” he says. 

Soul pop and gospel twang reach a slow-rolling confluence on the East Texas love story “Bayou By You,” and Cauthen teams with Delaney Ramsdell for the aching barstool ballad, “Chain Smoking.” “Breakaway” saunters into the sunset with a supremely casual indie-roots strut. And a colorful, character-driven country throwback unfolds on “Blue Denim & Black Gold” (the album’s only outside cut, written by Tyndell and Jeff Hyde).

Meanwhile, “Texas Gravel Road” unleashes every weapon in Cauthen’s creative arsenal. Built off a slowed-down latin beat, it’s a bellowing tribute to the blood, sweat, and tears behind the star’s pockmarked path – a grungy gutter rocker draped in distorted dark twang. And with the album ending on “The Voice Inside,” Cauthen enters a state of acoustic prayer. With that velvet vocal at its most raw, an anguished internal battle between dark and light unfolds. … Yet those voices may be something else entirely. Knowing them is the key to Cauthen’s code, and the driving force behind his country music.

“That’s what God is. That’s the spirit. That’s you. The un-talked about. That’s the good shit,” he explains. “This record is the Book of Paul, but I would say everybody needs their own book, and the chapters in life create that. What I mean is, bet on your own. Everybody pointing fingers at you because you’re the black sheep, or because you have this trait or that, that’s what actually makes you different. So bet on that.”