Karen Pernick sings a song about a Buddhist monk who becomes an unlikely though willing hitchhiker when he misses his train in Northern Montana. He rides to Calgary in her well-worn Honda, and though neither understands the other's language, they somehow communicate, moving "forward, ever forward" along a recently snow melted highway.

Any songwriter will tell you that inspiration comes from the most unusual places, and this song is no exception. It is however, quite likely to become a trademark, showcasing her smart, earthy songwriting style, as well as gutsy and unaffected vocals.

And it was destined to become one of the eleven cuts on Pernick's first full-length CD, Apartment 12. Recorded in Seattle at Ironwood Studios, it was produced by composer, improviser, and producer Wayne Horvitz. A major player in New York's downtown music scene since the early 80's, his varied production credits include the grammy nominated Fontella Bass gospel record, The World Saxophone Quartet, and singer songwriter Robin Holcomb.

"What it finally came down to was that I was ready to make an album, and that I wanted to make it here in Seattle," says Karen. "I imagined a project where the approach would be open and varied. One of my favorite albums is a Robin Holcomb release, produced by her husband Wayne Horvitz, so the logical conclusion was to contact Wayne, who now makes his home in Seattle. Though I knew and respected his work, I had only met him once briefly after a jazz show. But I figured, 'Hey, I'll never know if he's interested in working on a completely-low-budget-girl-with-guitar- singer-songwriter-project unless I ask...' So, I locked myself in my office and wasn't allowed to come out 'til I'd made the call. Wayne answered, I introduced myself. We talked. I asked if he was interested in listening to the demo. He said yes. He listened. We made Apartment 12."

Performing Songwriter Magazine says: "... Apartment 12 is a cozy place to hang out..." Built on very little rehearsal time in six fast forward recording days, it took on the feel of a neighborhood block party. Coming in and out of the studio were a diverse group of Northwest notables including, of course, Horvitz and Holcomb, vocalists Laura Love and Julie Wolf from the fast emerging Laura Love Band, internationally recognized guitarist Bill Frisell, cellist Jami Sieber, currently touring with Ferron, David Keenan, formerly of Ranch Romance and John Bush, percussionist with Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians. The end result is a project that's chocked full of rare opportunities to hear normally solo acoustic songs played in a completely new way.

Pernick could have kept things simple. She grew up in the suburbs of Detroit, went to school in Ann Arbor, earned herself a degree in psych, had a thriving career as a massage therapist, and lived in an idyllic Midwest farmhouse where she secretly wrote songs. But her fate changed when she worked a year-long stint behind the scenes at Ann Arbor's prestigious music venue, The Ark. There, witnessing history and listening to the acoustic heroes that now perpetually influence her, she became more and more inspired to perform those songs. She moved to Seattle in 1993 bent on becoming her own acoustic hero, and in the past few years, has taken her rightful place in a nationally reemerging acoustic scene.

She's won awards at the Kerrville Folk Festival, the Napa Valley Festival, and the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival, and has appeared at SXSW as well as several ASCAP showcases. Her performance at the 1995 North American Folk Alliance earned her one critic's praise as this year's "great unexpected discovery."

People are always searching for that one thing that makes an artist stand apart from the rest, and in Karen Pernick, it's not that she's tall. It's her way of turning a deliberate and 3-D gaze toward the fragile nature of human connections, then unpretentiously conveying her findings with presence and affection. She and Apartment 12 are fated to become faves of listeners and critics alike. Prepare yourself though, this AIN'T the same old folk. Beaming, but unassuming, simple but smart, it's filled with prarie-touched sophisticated songs, artful delivery. Fine. And when we say fine, we don't just mean OK, we mean F-I-N-E.