I first heard of Sun Kil Moon from my younger brother. He showed me “Sí, Paloma.” I was hit immediately with a wave of warmth, laid over me like a freshly laundered blanket, as the soft, acoustic sounds surrounded me from all angles. It was the kind of song that makes you immediately connected to your surroundings through its gentle and meticulous attention to detail. Sparse in instrumentation, yet full in sound, Sun Kil Moon, the moniker for musician Mark Kozelek, is an indie folk rock act from San Francisco, whose music is filled with dense storytelling, effortless instrumentals, and rich, emotive vocals. Started in 2002 by assembling a band for his critically acclaimed project Ghosts of the Great Highway, Kozelek, over two decades later, now tours solo, with just a guitar in hand.
I had the pleasure of seeing Kozelek at The Constellation Room in Santa Ana on his latest tour, a cozy venue that gives a great view of Kozelek from any spot. Every head was turned towards him, enraptured, soaking in every guitar hit, dedicated to hanging onto each word. Highlights from the show included “Red Poison,” “Nervous to Fly,” “Admiral Fell Promises,” and “I Watched the Film ‘The Song Remains the Same,’” — all aided by guitar licks by Kozelek, whose fingers cascaded down the strings like water.
The first song that made the audience nod and smile was “Dogs,” which was lyrically dense, narratively heavy, and harrowingly honest, with lines such as, “the nature of attraction cycles on and on/And nobody’s right, and nobody’s wrong/Our early life shapes the types to which we are drawn.” It was also quite funny; “Katy Kerlan was my first kiss/I was only 5 years old and she hit me with her purse … And from that day moving forward, I’ve been petrified of blondes.”
Before playing fan favorite “Glenn Tipton,” Kozelek admitted that he hates playing the song, but his girlfriend requested it. The song is pristine in its ability to capture moments and hand them heavy importance, combining them with feelings of fleeting wistfulness for a whiplash of sentiment. “Just like my dad did/When he was thinking/Oh, how fast the years fly … Place ain’t the same no more/Man, how things change.” Before the song, Kozelek remarked, “Guys always request this song. Why do guys like this song so much?” The audience laughed.
Almost as big a part of the show as the music was Kozelek’s knack for storytelling, outside of his lyrics. He reminisced begrudgingly about a couple who said they conceived a child to his song “The Light.” “I told them I’d never write a song with such a cliché title as ‘The Light’…turns out, I did and I had forgotten!” The audience laughed, and Kozelek proceeded to play the ballad as he closed his eyes and got lost in his (once forgotten) words.
The most touching story of the show, however, came after an absurdly hilarious spoken word piece entitled “Steve Buscemi” — it chronicled a particularly devastating day for Buscemi, ending in Kozelek exclaiming, “Steve Buscemi got sucker punched and called a senior citizen all in one day!” It was a piece Kozelek had written within the same day of performing it, about a coin a fan had given him. It was a 1936 dime, same as a coin he had taken from his mother, one that held much significance; it was the only thing her father had ever given her. At a low point, Kozelek had stolen and then sold it. He remarks how his mother never once held it against him, and how he later, at a Dairy Queen, bought a ton of dimes from the cashier, found one, and mailed it back to her. It was beautiful. I thought about how she must have felt, how Kozelek felt: Kozelek, hating hurting her that way, but how his mother’s unconditional forgiveness and understanding allowed her to be vulnerable to receiving such a special gift yet again, not just once.
The story also made me think about what makes the stories in Kozelek’s songs so great. The insane guitar playing is a vessel and means of emphasizing the message, yes, but whether it’s his, your own (or a character who got the short end of the stick like Deborah in “Dogs”), lyrically, he has the ability to place you exactly in the point of view of someone, and radiates empathy. I felt like I’d lived through hidden facets of my own life and mind through Kozelek’s words, and I walked out knowing a little more about everything.
I asked Kozelek a few questions about his band, including the one I couldn’t seem to find an answer to: what does his band name mean?
Sun Kil Moon is named after a retired Korean boxer, named Moon Sung-kil (문성길). Yeah, a retired Korean boxer, whose name stuck with me. I decided I would name my band after him.
How was “Glenn Tipton” mixed? How do you achieve that really sparse instrumental with a sparse sound?
I couldn’t tell you. It’s all Aaron Prellwitz. He recorded it — he recorded it, and we would sit together and just say, ‘this needs to be higher, this needs to come in here. Are there drums in it? Yeah, so have the drums come in here.’ Things like that.
I really love your lyric: “Her eyes look up to me, so open and true/Our window’s in perfect clear view/But somehow I can’t see through.” It really struck me. What does this mean?
It’s all what it means to you. When I was a kid listening to music, Neil Young, Sugar Mountain, I had to fill in the blanks. I wouldn’t want to ruin it by telling you what I meant, and it lets you down. This song resonates with you, it’s all about what it means to you. It’s how you connect with it. That’s the meaning of it.
