“It Takes a Young Man’s Life”—Paul Kamanski 1955-2024

Paul Kamanski. Photo by Dan Chusid.

Paul Colegrove Kamanski II, beloved husband, father, brother, friend, and songwriter, said goodbye to his family on October 5 and went fearlessly into that unknown perfect place that awaits us all. One of his greatest joys in life had been to lead his companions deeper, farther, and higher into the terrific wilderness, both of mind and mountain. Now, he reaches beyond our perception to skies brighter, streams clearer, fields softer, and songs more sweetly sung.

You’ve become what you imagined, love eclipses all time, you’ve returned far more than you’ve taken, this is what He had in mind

—”Full Circle” (Comanche Moon: Dreams in Rewind)

Paul was born on December 16, 1955, to Chuck and Robin Kamanski and raised in Los Angeles. He had a passion for stories, a penchant for adventure and a song in his heart. He left L.A with his cat and his guitar and landed in San Diego. Paul continually pursued songwriting and thrived in the chaotic energy and camaraderie of original rock bands, including Inhibited Life, The Heard, Electric Sons, and Fingers. He penned hit Beat Farmers anthems “Hollywood Hills,” “Bigger Stones,” and “Blue Chevrolet” among others. He created a personal body of work alongside his wife Caren Campbell-Kamanski with his decades-long project Comanche Moon, winning the San Diego Music Awards’ Best Local Recording in 1994 for the album Electric Lizardland.

She just whispered, my ears jangled, there’s a million souls been broke and mangled, there’s a million hearts that have never felt, stay for the winter just till the snow melts

—“Indigo Rider” (Comanche Moon: Electric Lizardland)

Comanche Moon original lineup, 1986: Steve Kelly, Joel Kmak, Paul Kamanski, Tim Griswold, Jimmy Rooster. Photo courtesy of Joel Kmak.

When a career in music sometimes became more frustrating than cathartic, Paul reenergized with his lifetime hobby of restoring vintage motorcycles, resulting in a remarkable collection of antique Bultacos, Yamahas, Husquvarnas, and other brilliant hot rods.

Paul and Caren enjoyed over 30 years of creativity, laughter, music, and adventure. They welcomed their daughter, Tennessee Snow Cree in 1997. Each summer, Paul shared his love of the High Sierra with his family, spending unforgettable days camping, fishing, strumming, and squeezing out the last juicy drops of every wonderful moment.

“We can take life where we want to, we can lay it down by a broken road, we can lay it down by the river we can watch the sky just explode”

—“Tennessee Hit” (Comanche Moon: Derailed)

Paul in the High Sierras.

In 2020, he fulfilled his dream of settling in the High Sierra permanently, relocating to Walker, California. Shortly after moving to Walker, Paul and Caren lost their new home to the Mountain View Fire that devastated the area. Paul’s spirit of resilience and tenacity drove him not only to carry on and create his paradise but was also the catalyst for the beginning of many everlasting friendships within the close-knit community. He was Santa Claus for the town’s Giving Tree annual community outreach event.

Paul delighted in hosting Tennessee’s wedding celebration and marriage to Aaron Hunter Dennis in May of 2024—on his property, in the pavilion he designed for the occasion. He walked her down the aisle and they danced, even though they were both remarkably bad at it (guitar players can’t dance).

One heart beat out of four, I couldn’t hold you, two heartbeats out of four, you’re halfway gone, three heartbeats out of four, I never told you, four heartbeats out of four, I’m yours.”

—“One Heartbeat” (Comanche Moon: Dreams in Rewind)

Tennessee Kamanski and her father on her wedding day.

Paul was an enigmatic man. His fearlessness not only opened doors to lifelong friendships but also protected his loved ones. His brutal honestly may have gotten him into some trouble, but it was also the vehicle to an exchange of ideas and meaningful change. His distinctly oddball sense of humor will never be replicated on this earth, try as we might. He was not only generous, he was excited at the chance to help, and it came to him so naturally to give of himself and to share. He faced each day with curiosity and intensity, never slowing down. He relentlessly worked to improve his life and the lives of those around him.

“It takes a young man’s life and it probably will, mining for gold in them Hollywood Hills.”

—“Hollywood Hills” (Comanche Moon: Old Dogs)

Paul’s unexpected departure leaves a chasm in the hearts of his friends and family. Now untethered and beyond time, you can find him all around—in the songs and records he left behind, in the East Fork of the Carson, in the maple board of his beloved Stratocaster, and in the endless stories of a well-lived life, told late night around the campfire, debauched and saintly, with a wink and a smile forever more.

“Tell me the dream’s not over, God can save our soul, spent my life hungover, playin’ rock ’n’ roll.”

—“Hawk on My Heart” (Comanche Moon: Old Dogs)

WHAT HIS FRIENDS HAVE TO SAY ABOUT PAUL KAMANSKI

From Steve Poltz
Paul Kamanski passed away yesterday. I hear it was a heart attack. Man, I was on a plane, and we were just taking off from Nashville to Chicago to Arkansas. I was aimlessly scrolling through FB and saw a post about Paul. It’s the kind of thing where you audibly gasp and the stranger next to you glances over and you lock eyes for just a second and they go back to reading their book.

I scratched my head and teared up. Good lord, I hate death. It’s so final. And it just keeps happening. The hits keep coming. It’s a fact of life that we all meet our demise. We just don’t know when it’s our turn.

Steve Poltz with Paul and Caren Kamanski.

So, back in the ’80s when I was at USD and then when I graduated in ’84, I used to frequent many San Diego bars in search of music. There was a place called the Mandolin Wind in Hillcrest that had a hot moment. I can’t remember the best night of the week to go but I wanna say it was every Thursday. The place would be packed and there was a scene. To me it was the beginning of what we might call Americana. The band at the center of this movement were called the Beat Farmers. There were a lot of bands making great albums like the Blasters and Los Lobos and X. But for my money, the Beat Farmers were the kings. Their shows were the stuff of beer-soaked legend.

So anyways, the Mandolin Wind was where all the musicians would hang out and play music and drink tequila and sing songs. Jerry Raney, Joey Harris, and Mojo Nixon would be there. The Farage Brothers. They’re twins! They were in a band called the Sidewinders. And also DFX2. But on Thursdays every musician would be at the bar. Country Dick Montana would be holding court around a bottle of mescal.

But there was one mysterious dude named Paul Kamanski. He had beautiful, wavy-long hair. Wore cowboy boots. Very handsome. He was the songwriter of songwriters. He studied at the altar of Neil Young, Springsteen, the Replacements, and Dylan. He wrote cool lyrics and hooks.

A later lineup of Comanche Moon, 1994. (top row) Aristotle Georgio, Larry Dent, Andy Greenberg, John Cain. (bottom row) Paul Kamanski, Caren Campbell, Richard Livoni.

I remember one night, after a few shots of tequila, I was at that packed Mandolin Wind bar, and I had just enough courage to go up and talk to Paul Kamanski. I was standing next to my friend Lorna, and she told me to compliment his guitar playing. I was nervous so I drained another shot and I walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes were beautiful and mischievous, and I said, “Hey man, my name is Steve Poltz and I write songs too. I really love your song ‘Bigger Stones’ but I REALLY love your guitar playing!”

He thanked me and shook my hand and then went back to talk to some friends he was with. I hadn’t played that many shows yet but just meeting him gave me a jolt of energy. I remember telling Lorna that I complimented Paul’s guitar playing, and she said something like, “You’re like a golden retriever. You didn’t shake his hand, you hugged him and probably scared him. Don’t worry, I know him really well. I’ll tell him you’re an okay dude.”

Sometimes Paul would play these duo acoustic shows with Joey Harris. Another legendary songwriter and Beat Farmer member. They’d play these shows at a bar in Coronado called McP’s Irish Pub. I would watch Joey and Paul sing all these old and new songs. They’d wear cool cowboy boots, and their guitars were banged up, and I’d lean in and listen to every song with all of my attention. This was my real college degree. I may have been at USD, but this is where I’d get my education.

Well, the years have certainly whizzed by and now we are deep into 2024. Over many years I became friends with Paul Kamanski. He married a wonderful girl named Caren and had a beautiful daughter named Tennessee. We sporadically kept in touch. I became a full-time traveling bard with my own banged up guitar.

On September 17, 2023, I was driving from a festival I played called Millpond and I was in Northern California headed to Grass Valley to play a show with my friend Shawn Mullins. It was a special day. The sun. The weather. The blue skies and puffy white clouds. The flowers. The water. Everything was perfect. I was driving all alone in silence. [It was] one of those moments where everything was just right. A feeling of gratitude enveloped my entire being. Then I looked ahead and saw sign that said Walker, California. I thought to myself “I think Paul and Caren Kamanski live in this little town.” So, I called Caren. I couldn’t believe it, but she answered the phone. I told her where I was and she screamed, “You have to come over. We wanna see you and show you our studio.”

So, there we were on September 17, 2023. I was with one of my teachers. A man I drunkenly hugged in the ’80s. Here I was at his compound in Walker, California. He and Caren made me some coffee and played me music they were working on. They talked about wanting to have a festival on their land. They built a stage. They said I could sleep in their super cool Airstream trailer next to their house. Shoot, I would’ve stayed for a week, but I had shows to play. So, we hugged and professed our love and I hugged ‘em both again because that’s what golden retrievers do.

Now he’s gone. Just like that. God bless you, Paul Kamanski.

Look at these lyrics and listen to this song “Bigger Stones” by the Beat Farmers. Paul wrote this. It’s beautiful.

Sometimes I wanna fall asleep and die off in a dream
The music takes me back to my old past when I was young and feelin’ mean
And as I stare into the spotlight it’s like drivin’ my car
We had the girls and a will and a bill on a stolen credit card
Sayin’ someday we’ll be stars, Joe

Now, I feel the pain of growin’ old I hear voices in the rain
I see a vision of doubt that keeps rollin’ through my baby’s eyes
When she calls out my name each time that she complains
Seems like we rolled bigger stones back then
Seems like we rolled bigger stones
Seems like we rolled bigger stones back then
Seems like we rolled bigger stones

I’m so glad I stopped in Walker, California last September.

I’ll see you on the other side.

Enjoy every cup of tea.”

—Steve Poltz, October 6, 2024

From Andy Greenberg
Paul has left us with a running account of his life in his music—a diary of sorts. The situations, scenery, anecdotes, and opinions in his music are all things he experienced and witnessed and felt. All of the musicians who played and recorded with Paul and Caren can attest to that, and we all know it when we hear it.

My time spent in Paul’s band—Comanche Moon—was a very important part of my musical life. I learned a lot, laughed a lot and we played our hearts out. Paul was a one of a kind and original for sure. I’m gonna miss him.

Rock Trio with Paul and Caren Kamanski, Joey Harris

From Joel Kmak
I met Paul Kamanski in 1984 when Joey Harris and he asked me if I was interested in being the drummer for the Electric Sons. Although I didn’t get that gig later on, in 1986, when I started attending the “Cavalcade of Stars,” an event that happened every Thursday night at the Mandolin Wind, which was hosted by David and Douglas Farage, along with Country Dick Montana [Dan McLean]. There, Paul and I reconnected as we both would sit in every week. By this time I was aware that he had written some of my favorite Beat Farmers songs, so when he asked me to form a band, which later became Comanche Moon, I jumped at the chance. He nicknamed me “the jockey” and for four glorious years we gigged and recorded some of the best songs one could ever hear. Most of those songs later appeared on his San Diego Music Awards-winning album, Electric Lizardland. I am so glad that my wife, Tai, and I were able to visit Paul and Caren last year at his new home in Walker, California. We made big plans for recordings and gigs at his new studio and pavillion he built there. I will definitely miss “the talker from Walker” Paul Kamanski. You were a beautiful handful, my friend.