Paul Kimble was one-third of Grant Lee Buffalo, the L.A. cult band responsible for such flights of fancy as "Fuzzy" and "Jupiter and Teardrop." In addition to serving as bassist and producer for that group, Kimble also contributed keyboards and backing vocals. During and after his stint with GLB (who soldiered on for one more full-length, 1998's Jubilee, after his departure), he produced albums for Luna and David Gray.

So you can imagine what Kimble's solo debut sounds like, right?

Um... maybe not. If you pop in Crawl, by Kimble's Pistol Star project, expecting to revisit the warped Americana side of GLB, you'll be disappointed; check out the solo albums by singer/songwriter Grant Lee Phillips instead. (Today, Kimble has only praise for his former bandmate: "I really respect Grant... he's a great writer.")

Crawl (on new local label Wax Orchard) eludes easy description. As my boyfriend observed, "It's singer-songwriter-y... without being icky." The slinky opener, "Mr. DJ," praises the healing power of music via a sensual groove that could give Al Green or Marvin Gaye pause, topped with Kimble's alluring falsetto. The title track is a hushed yet vitriolic dissection of an unspecified acquaintance who wronged our protagonist. "Lolita" could pass for an outtake from one of Brian Eno's early, pre-ambient solo albums--a treat for listeners who enjoyed Kimble's collaboration with Thom Yorke, Bernard Butler, et al., as Venus in Furs in Todd Haynes' 1998 glam-rock valentine Velvet Goldmine.

"I did not have a master plan, as is evidenced by how schizophrenic the record is," admits Kimble, who will celebrate the release of Crawl with a free party/show Friday, November 26, at Capitol Hill Arts Center. "I'm not that organized. I don't think more than a day ahead, if I'm lucky. The way it all finally came together was pretty organic."

Due to financial and legal snags, Crawl was three years in the making. The multi- instrumentalist relocated to Seattle last year to try to recapture his career momentum. But it was only after he had to vacate the house where he was crashing (not his first flirtation with homelessness--he once lived in a tent in the Santa Monica mountains for six months) that, ironically, his life hit an upswing.

One evening, while drowning his sorrows at Green Lake's TangleTown brewery, Kimble was introduced to Michael Shrieve, former drummer for Santana, and an innovative recording artist in his own right. The two became friends. Eventually, Shrieve generously transferred Kimble's unfinished tapes to ProTools, so he could finish the record. But even though he completed Crawl at Shrieve's house, with assistance from guitarist Ryan Leyva--who also plays with Shrieve--it wasn't until the project was nearly complete that Kimble asked his host to play on the tracks.

"I've heard very few drummers who can actually play along to this stuff and not fuck up the groove," explains Kimble. "Shrieve sat down and just ripped through it." He laughs at himself. "I'm such an idiot." Perhaps. But you've made a damn fine record, regardless.

kurt@thestranger.com