PAUL THORN
8 p.m., Revolution. $15 adv., $18 d.o.s.
Paul Thorn’s bio is the stuff of PR flaks’ dreams. Raised in Tupelo, the son of a Pentecostal preacher, Thorn got into music only after he’d worked his way through the ranks of professional boxing. The pinnacle of that brief career came when he squared off and, he says, gave a good account of himself against Roberto Duran in a nationally televised fight. Working in a chair factory and painting folk art inspired by Howard Finster followed. At night, Thorn wrote songs and performed in local clubs. A cousin, who at the time was a keyboardist in Parliament-Funkadelic, had inspired him, and Thorn wasn’t easily deterred. He spent more than a decade grinding it out before Miles Copeland (Stuart’s brother) discovered him and signed him to his Ark21 label. For the last decade, Thorn’s toured heavily and released new albums about every two years. With every one, the singer/songwriter’s star seems to rise a little higher. His grizzled baritone and plainspoken lyrics of Southern craziness serve as a nice complement to his everything-and-the-kitchen-sink Delta rock.