Album Reviews

After collapsing on stage three years ago and nearly dying of complications brought on by Hepatitis C, Austin, Texas based rock and roller Alejandro Escovedo returns with a deeply moving John Cale produced album that reclaims his past musical ferocity, while moving the 55 year old survivor forward into sensitive new musical and lyrical territory.

Long a critic’s favorite, Escovedo has released a series of well-reviewed solo records over the past fifteen years that somehow failed to catch the public’s fancy. Perhaps that’s because over the years Escovedo’s music hasn’t fit into any convenient slot. Stylistically he veers from hard-edged three-chord east coast Velvet Underground/glam-rockers to endearing Latino/Chicano balladry reminiscent of Los Lobos, to blends that defy categorization.

Born into a large, musical Mexican-American family that includes older brothers Pete and Coke and niece Sheila E. (all percussionists), Alejandro found himself drawn to rock’n’rollers like Mott The Hoople, Faces and of course The Velvets. But it wasn’t until the 1970’s in San Francisco, during his college years, that he picked up a guitar and began playing. A band he formed to play in a student film he was making became the influential S.F. punk band The Nuns. Soon he moved to New York where he helped form country-punk band Rank and File. Moving to Austin, Texas with the band, he soon left to form True Believers, which toured the country, sometimes sharing the stage with Los Lobos. When the band was dropped by EMI in the late ‘80s, Escovedo went solo, releasing those well-received solo albums and touring to support them over the next decade.

In his search for artistic and commercial fulfillment, and to support his family, Escovedo did hard time on the road, leading a rocker’s abusive, hard-drinking lifestyle even after being diagnosed with liver-ravaging Hepatitis C. He also developed a well-received theatrical work, By the Hand of the Father, that was presented in theaters across America, with Escovedo performing the music.

He met poet and college instructor Kim Christoff in early 2000, married her and had a daughter and then, a few years later, he collapsed on stage and almost died in the emergency room. He survived, but whether he’d ever be able to write and perform was in doubt. Without health insurance, his medical bills mounted.

In those darkest of days, all the years of hard work and touring began to pay off. Musician friends staged benefit concerts across the country to raise money. A fund was set up to manage the money. Roche Pharmaceuticals donated the expensive drug Interferon through an assistance program. In the fall of 2004 a 2 CD set of his songs sung by friends was released, with the proceeds going to the fund. Among the friends were John Cale, Ian Hunter, Bobby Neuwirth, Ian McLaghan, Lucinda Williams, Cowboy Junkies, Peter Case, Steve Earle, The Jayhawks, Chris Stamey, Jennifer Warnes and of course members of his talented musical family. The outpouring of support from his heroes, peers and family overwhelmed him and gave him the strength to endure the punishing medical treatment and the will to persevere.

“It’s ironic that out of being so sick so many great things have happened,” he was quoted as saying in the excellent press blurb that accompanied the promo CD I received.

Normally I avoid providing such a detailed “back story” in a record review, preferring to let the music speak for itself. Believe me this album does that, but a richer appreciation comes from knowing the background.

The album opens with “Arizona.” It’s where the singer met his wife, where he almost died and where he recovered. It’s dry gulch of a song, with a hot sun backdrop provided by a punishing string figure and a searing electric guitar line. “Have a drink on me,” Escovedo sings to open the album. A drink now would probably kill him. It was the first song he wrote after getting sick.

Next up is “Dearhead on The Wall,” with Bowie-esque chording, a patented Cale string backdrop, with driving celli running the rhythm down, violin accents, and acoustic guitar fills adding up to one of the album’s most powerful and disturbing musical statements. The lyrics, from a poem by Escovedo’s wife Kim, sprung from her encounter with a deerhead on a restaurant wall and the forlorn look on the deer’s head.

“Notes On Air,” from another of his wife’s poems, was inspired by a cloud formation in which “a buck from the sky tramples a wandering doe.” It’s another powerful blast that combines Cale’s instinct for hard rocking three chord raves anchored by massed strings. Escovedo’s powerful performance banish any notion that the album is about a fragile survivor.

The tender, noble “Looking For Love” expresses how love arrives via ambush, not pre-arrangement. Cale’s arranging skills augment but don’t overshadow the sentiment. Next up is love song from Escovedo to his wife, very loosely based on a typically eccentric character the pair encountered on Venice Beach during the recording of the album. The song was inspired by an image of the loincloth clad guy who they spotted posing atop a ladder and pulling two hooded cobras from a bag.

The album switches to overdrive with “Break This Time,” a hard-rocker that sounds like a blend of the VU’s “Waiting For The Man and The Stones’ “When The Whip Comes Down.” “Evita’s Lullaby,” written for the singer’s mother ruminates on facing life alone after losing a husband (and father) after 60 years of marriage. The topsy, turvy tracking goes uptempo next with “Sacramento and Polk,” Esoovedo’s brutal recollection of life in late ‘70’s San Francisco. It’s got the feel of an early Chrissie Hynde tune.

“Died a Little Today” should need no explanation at this point. Next is “Take Your Place,” based on chords and melody provided by the group’s bass player, Mark Andes. Yes, that Mark Andes, the rock’n’roll survivor who played in both Spirit and Jo Jo Gunne. The tune is another Stones-like rocker, unusually deconstructed by Cale at Escovedo’s request. The album ends with the title tune, dedicated to the singer’s dad who was a boxer. The unlisted track 12 is a “bonus” original “Take This Place.” The guitar anchored rocker is harder-edged than the one on the album proper, but it’s also more conventional and made for radio circa the late ‘70s.

Escovedo’s performance throughout is powerful but not overwhelmingly so. Underlying emotions are expressed in a searingly direct, but understated way. It may take a few plays for them to register but once they grip, they don’t let go.

Cale produces as if sound still matters, creating dense webs of strings, electric guitars, and synthesizer. Cale masterfully makes the strings grate, throb, slice and bind, meshing with the electric guitars as if they were co-equals in the rock instrumental pantheon. This is production born of inspiration and respect, and the more you listen the more you’ll appreciate the inspiration, ingenuity and craft.

Sonically, there’s much to recommend, from the seamless mix to the rock-solid deep bass, but it seems as if the sparkle, transparency and sonic drama found on albums like Fear simply can’t be duplicated. If this isn’t a Pro-Tools production, I’ll eat a copy of Vintage Violence. But that’s the way it is in 2006, and for a contemporary production, it’s pretty damn good.

Alexandro Escovedo’s The Boxing Mirror is the product of experience, adversity and especially inspiration. Pass on it and you lose. It’s that good.