Alejandro Escovedo a must-see artist

In the early 1990s, I lived for a brief while in Austin, Texas. South by Southwest was still a party then, not a juggernaut. Austin City Limits was a TV show, not an industry. And my fellow Waterloo Records employee Alejandro Escovedo was just — at the urging of guitarist-producer Stephen Bruton — beginning his solo career.

Being in the right place at the right time meant I was able to see Escovedo work his unique magic in a wide-array of formats — solo at the Cactus Cafe, unleashing the mighty 13-piece Alejandro Escovedo Orchestra at La Zona Rosa and rocking loud and sloppily on his 40th birthday with his fierce, ragged garage band, Buick McKane, at the appropriately named Hole in The Wall.

Twenty years later, Escovedo is nearly a legend, with a catalog of classic albums like “Gravity,” “A Man Under The Influence” and “With These Hands” that fearlessly blend Bela Bartok and Iggy Pop; Townes Van Zandt and The Velvet Underground.

Lyrically, Escovedo has laid himself bare over and over, discussing his many lives and losses; honoring his parents, his siblings and his seven children from various wives; and, with 2006′s “The Boxing Mirror,” chronicling his near fatal bout with Hepatitis C.

His brand new album, “Street Songs of Love” (which is dedicated to the recently deceased Bruton) is just what it’s title claims, a collection of pieces that look at the biggest subject of all from multiple perspectives.

The record drops Escovedo’s trademark string section in favor of another fierce quartet, this one not ragged but absolutely right.

The album is produced by Tony Visconti (who helmed Escovedo’s last release, “Real Animal,” as well as albums by David Bowie, T. Rex and U2). It features duets with Mott the Hoople’s Ian Hunter and Bruce Springsteen.

It’s a great record, but like his others, it doesn’t hold a candle to the man and his band onstage.

Escovedo and the Sensitive Boys (guitarist David Pulkingham, bassist Bobby Daniel and longtime drummer Hector Munoz) co-headline a concert with Kathleen Edwards at the Calvin Theater on Tuesday.

If you need any further urging to go, here’s half a dozen snapshots of Escovedo onstage over the years in the Capital Region and Western Mass.

1986: QE2, Albany. Before he went solo, Escovedo fronted the three guitar attack of the True Believers. Simply put the Troobs were the kind of band that made people want to move to Austin. Former QE2 owner Dave Shortsleeve maintains that their only local gig was the single greatest night of music in Albany. Ever.

1995: Valentine’s, Albany. Frustrated with a gaggle of noisy bar patrons yakking through David Perales’ violin solo, Escovedo pulled his band off stage and into the poolroom for an impromptu acoustic set (highlighted by a take of Peter Case’s “Two Angels”) that was simply mesmerizing in its intensity and focus.

1996: Union College, Schenectady. The air looked heavy with rain that never came. No one minded that Escovedo’s outdoor show at the Music Haven was moved inside to the Memorial Chapel at Union College. The leader responded by making his music feel like a sermon, sensing the history of a room that previously held his own heroes like Patti Smith, John Cale and Bruce Springsteen.

2000: Valentine’s, Albany. Now with a sparse trio consisting of pedal steel and keyboards in addition to his own guitar, Escovedo coughed up expected bits like Pop’s “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and Hunter’s “I Wish I was Your Mother,” but took everyone by surprise with a tender reading of Van Zandt’s “Tower Song,” as could be sung only by one who knew him personally.

2005: Revolution Hall, Troy. Escovedo has never made a secret of his abiding love for Mott the Hoople, or Bowie for that matter. With True Believer Jon Dee Graham back by his side on guitar, playing the ageless Mick Ralphs’ lick from “All the Young Dudes,” Escovedo channeled all the beauty and gutter glory of glam. He’d lived the drugs and decadence (he was Sid Vicious’ neighbor at the Chelsea) and come out triumphant on the other side. “I’m a dude now,” indeed.

2007: The Iron Horse, Northampton, Mass. One can only imagine what Escovedo thought while watching Warren Zevon die a very public death. His own sickness still echoing in his bones, Escovedo and Pulkingham stood in the middle of the crowd, without microphones and offered Zevon’s “She’s Too Good For Me.” Escovedo sang through his tears and the audience listened through theirs.

By Michael Eck – A freelance writer from Albany and a frequent contributor to the  Albany Times Union – http://www.timesunion.com/

http://www.timesunion.com/AspStories/story.asp?storyID=950588&category=ARTS