The Vancouver Courier

The first time I interviewed Jaime Perry, he said he'd be happy in the music business as long as he made enough money to buy cigarettes and coffee.

Eight years later, he's happy-and he quit smoking.

"Sometimes people get forced into their jobs and I'm still doing what I love, and that's lucky," says Perry, otherwise known as Bocephus King, the hard-to-categorize roots rocker from Delta.

Perry, 33, has just released All Children Believe in Heaven. Called a "stunner" and a "masterwork" by some local critics, the album is a deviation from what traditional Bocephus fans are used to on his previous three albums-Joco Music, Small Good Thing and The Blue Sickness-but it's nonetheless an addictive collection of Perry's remarkable musicianship and storytelling ability.

And he definitely has a few stories to tell-they've been gently mined from his early days struggling to make it as a songwriter in Nashville to the chemically induced period that preceded the aptly named The Blue Sickness to his weird popularity in Italy and Holland and the ultimate release of All Children Believe in Heaven-arguably his best release to date.

Perry plays about 10 instruments on the album, wrote all 11 songs and arranged the music. The critics might love it, but he doesn't think it's going to make him rich. "I think I'll just be able to make a living out of this one," he says.

But for Perry, it isn't about the money-it's about doing what he loves, without compromise. "There's no one who can call me a sellout."

Perry's interest in music goes back to his childhood in Point Roberts, WA, and South Delta. He grew up hanging out at on the American peninsula at The Breakers, where his mom worked, listening to the local acts that took the stage.

He developed a love for Americana and was singing Johnny Cash songs as far back as he can remember. The name Bocephus, in fact, comes from the nickname Hank Williams gave his son.

Fast-forward 25 years and the raspy-voiced, stubbly-faced Perry is a fixture on the local music scene, with a sound all his own and a stage presence that is second to none. He's been endlessly compared to Tom Waits, but that's probably because his music is impossible to define. He can also sound like Chris Isaak, Mark Knopfler, the Kinks, Townes Van Zandt and Dave Matthews.

Perry says he tries to change his sound from record to record, and that probably explains some of his versatility.

Then there was the girl who booked him at full price to play an intimate gathering. Intimate was the operative word as it turned out to be a performance in her parents' living room, which was also a shrine to Perry. There were pictures of him everywhere, and the bookcases were filled with every book he'd ever mentioned in an interview.

"She basically hired us to go have dinner at her parents' house," recalls Perry.

Back in Canada, things are much calmer. Perry-the self-proclaimed reluctant adult-is a new dad to Stella Bella Blue, three months shy of two.

Stella Bella Blue was unexpected, says Perry, but that's OK, because any self-respecting musician should have lots of kids and ex-wives.

The toddler has a song named after her on the new album. Not quite a lullaby, "Stella Bella Blue" references death, miracles, dreams and fate-recurring themes in many other songs. "Jesus the Bookie" takes listeners through Heaven while Jesus takes bets on souls: "As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death/Gonna duck and dive, I'm gonna dodge the left/ Abraham's gonna referee/ And Neal Cassady's gonna pray for me."

Then there's "Hollywood," where there's only misery, vanity, insanity, "and nasty little stains." The song is therapeutic for Perry. It's a metaphor for Nashville, the place that nearly killed his musical dreams. "It's like a big light-it attracts flies," he says. "When they go there, they get zapped. It's crazy."

Luckily, Perry didn't get zapped when the country music capital of the world dismissed him 15 years ago.

And lucky, too, for anyone who's ever listened to a Bocephus King CD.