Alejandro Escovedo - "Real Animal" (Manhattan Records 2008)

A good way to tell the difference between a true Austinite and someone who just lives here is to ask them what they think of Alejandro Escovedo. If the say, “Who?” you know you better quickly find some generic small talk to fill out the conversation if you want to continue it at all. At least if you’re a sanctimonious, opinionated ass who dwells to the point of obsession on the subjects of Austin music, art and politics. You may not be such a person. I sure as fuck am and so are most of the people I call my friends. One fairly common rule of thumb amongst people like yours truly is this – you don’t fuck with Alejandro Escovedo.

The man has led a life and had a career far more interesting than any fictional rock ‘n’ roller, or for that matter most real ones. As co-writer and guitarist for The Nuns, one of the earliest punk bands to appear on the West Coast, he opened for The Sex Pistols final show along with The Avengers at Winterland in San Francisco. He proved to be the glue in cowpunk outfit Rank and File (California version cowpunk, not to be confused with the anarchic mayhem of music so categorized in Austin and represented primarily by The Hickoids), as Rank and File lost direction and ultimately dissolved with Alejandro’s departure. He went on to front the seminal Austin roots rock legends The True Believers (to use a tired cliché, if you were able to look up “seminal Austin band” in the dictionary there would be a picture of The True Believers next to it). After leaving The True Believers he launched a solo career in 1992 with the release of the astounding Gravity, a record so passionate and emotionally charged that it’s immediately impossible to forget. A string of brilliant, passionate, primarily melancholic records followed. In the midst of all this he fronted and wrote the material for Buick McKane to allow himself an outlet for his need to play balls out rock ‘n’ roll, battled a near fatal bout with Hepatitis C, and led a dramatic personal life involving wives, ex-wives, friends, ex-friends, collaborators and ex-collaborators. He’s never achieved mainstream success, but just about every critically acclaimed serious artist out there cites him as an influence, and many of them count him among their friends.

That’s the short version. Like I said, you don’t fuck with Alejandro. Unfortunately, after some careful listens of his latest release, Real Animal, I find myself in the uncomfortable position of, if I’m to write an honest opinion piece, doing just that. Bear in mind I love Alejandro’s body of work – anyone can hit a bump in an otherwise smooth and beautiful road.

I don’t think there’s been a more anticipated release from an Austin artist since Spoon’s Merge Records debut Girls Can Tell in 2001. The promotion leading up to the release of Real Animal has stressed that it’s a collection of songs exploring Alejandro’s musical journey from The Nuns to present, including personalities encountered, befriended, and idolized. This it certainly does, and while the stories are there, this is where the record ultimately musically fails.

Where Alejandro’s best work has a natural and seemingly easy flow to it, much of Real Animal sounds forced, as though inspiration was passed over in favor of cramming these sets of story lyrics into often incompatible song structures, arrangements, and instrumentation. These failings are most evident in songs like “Chelsea Hotel” and “Chip n’ Tony”, which are trying so hard to be “rock” songs they come across as pale imitations of the same. Alejandro’s rock credentials are well established, with catchy solo songs like “Castanets” to the raw power of Buick McKane at its best, not to mention most everything that came before. It seems strangely out of character for him to be recasting himself as something he already is, and without the deftness of hand and easy grace of his earlier work.

Other problems crop up. Tony Visconti’s production and arrangements are almost uniquely unsuited for Alejandro’s brand of music. While a layered lushness, compressed guitar tone, and choral background vocals may have been perfect for other projects on his resume such as The Moody Blues, T. Rex, or David Bowie, it is glaringly out of place here. “Sensitive Boys” is certainly reminiscent of Bowie, but its disingenuous melancholic tone (when Alejandro usually does melancholy so well) makes it sound sappy and the Vegasey semi-choral background vocals are so out of place they go the rest of the way to ruining the song. This shows up again in “Golden Bear”, ruining an otherwise perfectly serviceable chorus. Alejandro has proven adept and even ingenious in incorporating strings in his songs, but the string arrangement on “Nuns Song” is positively jarring over his appropriately snotty reminiscence of the life and death of his 70s punk band.

The record is by no means a total wash. In spite of an unwieldy musical breakdown in the middle of the song, opener “Always a Friend” is a hooky singalong that pulls you in immediately. While hampered by Visconti’s over-production “Sister Lost Soul” is a definite keeper and the strongest track on the record.

All the songs on this album were co-written by Chuck Prophet, a long time contemporary and friend dating back to Alejandro’s California punk days, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what made the difference. Two old friends reminiscing about the good, or for that matter bad, old days is sure to be entertaining to them, but rarely to outsiders. In this case the phenomenon translated to the music being made, which is a shame considering both of these guys are such talented and powerful songwriters on their own.

As for Alejandro Escovedo, I’ll anxiously await his next record and hope that he allows the songs he writes to flow from within rather than directly out of the past.

2.5 Real Animals

Alejandro Escovedo - March 2nd, 2008 - Aquarelle Restaurant Francais

Alejandro Escovedo's youngest daughter and upscale Austin French eatery Aquarelle owner's daughter have something in common - both children attend Escuelita Del Alma, one of the most highly regarded daycare facilities in Austin or the surrounding area. Maybe in the country. When the beloved teacher of these two children was diagnosed with cervical cancer Alejandro and Aquarelle joined forces and did one of the things Austin does best - threw her a benefit.

At $50.00 a seat the contributor received a five star French dinner (even if it was served buffet style), an unbelievable dessert spread, and limitless free wine courtesy of a local winery. Not to mention a stellar performance from Alejandro and a back-up band that included Stephen Bruton on mandolin and guitar, Hector Munoz on percussion, and a fantastic bass player who's name I didn't catch (I've seen him play and even met him once or twice, but can't remember his name - getting old is hell).

I felt compelled to write about this because it seems like its something becoming all too rare, and perhaps dying out. Not benefits in general, which will continue to be organized for friends in need as long as there are music scenes, but benefits like this one. Rather than 8 - 10 bands in a bar or nightclub, you had a single performance by a critically acclaimed and much beloved local songwriter and performer held at a nice restaurant for a price that almost anybody could afford and was worth every penny. Alejandro can easily sell out any mid-size venue in town. You would likely spend more than $50.00 dining at Aquarelle on any given night. These people donated time, money and resources to help not a fellow uninsured musician in need, as is usually the case, but for a daycare teacher.

Obviously such an event wouldn't be economically feasible for every sick person in a city. It doesn't, however, seem outside the realm of the realistic to have similar events more frequently benefitting, say, charitable organizations or medical research groups. There are certainly enough A-list musicians in Austin, and I'm sure many other metropolitan areas, to make this possible. Maybe the tattered remains of my idealism is showing through, but as our inhumanity toward other humans continues to rise it seems one of the easier and more obvious ways to fight back. There's no reason to stop having the small benefits for ailing fellow musicians or the big ones for such things as relief for victims of natural disaster - just a way to provide a consistent, unsensationalized middle ground. I think the benefits would ultimately far outweigh the effort not only for the recipients of this largesse, but for our society as a whole. Subtle, or not so subtle, reminders of our responsibilites to one another as human beings capable of empathy and compassion not only seem like a good idea to me, but an almost urgent necessity. Bear in mind this is coming from probably the most misanthropic person you've ever come into contact with. If I can muster passion for something like this I'm willing to bet you can too.

If you're so passionate about this then why aren't you doing anything? you'd be justified in asking. Well, I think I'll probably get started on it. Having the privelege to attend the benefit I'm talking about provided some powerful inspiration.

Alejandro's performance? Outstanding. He drew heavily from his first solo release, the Stephen Bruton produced Gravity. The generally melancholic tone of his songs was complemented perfectly by roiling black clouds threatening a storm (which thankfully didn't materialize) and wind gusts that sent dead leaves spiraling around the band. He also managed to work in his two arguably biggest hits, both from A Man Under the Influence, "Rosalie" about half way through the set and an energetic rendition of "Castanets" to close things out. After a couple of minor rough moments early on the band Alejandro had assembled fell in together and shone like the professionals they are.

I think I found this all so moving because it managed to restore a tiny amount of my long faded hope that there is good to be found in people. That by itself made it worth the price of admission.