If, like me, you were under the impression that the roots music of Mexican-America kind of begun and ended with Los Lobos then it’s likely that you, like me, were unaware of Alejandro Escovedo. Eclipsed by thirty years of imperial rock history Escovedo’s body of work has thus far remained as painfully obscure but as well maintained as the sacred geography of Machu Picchu or Chichen Itza. The downside is that it has taken many of us thus far to find him. The upside is that he has a story and a character preserved and undisputed by the usual ravages of a colonial rock media. Alejandro Escovedo continues to yield deeply fundamental and roots-oriented music without threat of violation by the teasing hand of fashion. The roots-Americana magazine No Depression named him Artist Of The Decade midway through the Nineties whilst David Fricke of Rolling Stone Magazine decreed him the ‘poet of the ordinary event – a folk-blues classicist with a gritty, plaintive voice and an equal fondness for dirty boogie and spectral balladry’. The ethnocentricity of any comment, however well meaning though, betrays the profound universality of his output to date. Anyone who has a family, has a hometown or had his or her life scarred by minor tragedy or minor fortune will be able to identify with Escovedo’s deep and exploratory sadness that takes mythical input from a truly staggering range of cultures.
The son of an immigrant father from Saltillo, Mexico who sired 12 children. Pedro Escovedo was inspired not only by the folksy, roots subtext of his own ethnic heritage, he also found his muse hanging out with a preposterous range of artists. Cast alongside Dylan and Guy Clarke plus luminaries like Henry Mancini were stars as bright as and absurd as the Velvet Underground, Iggy Pop, Patti Smith, the Faces, Mott The Hoople, the Mekons and the Minutemen. When punk rock emerged during his college years in San Francisco, Escovedo started his first band, The Nuns, when he needed a group for a student film he was making. Oddly enough, the band’s influence as founders of the Frisco punk scene includes opening the last show by The Sex Pistols. Escovedo’s time in a series of other bands like Rank and File and The True Believers prepared the way for an equally laudable solo career kick-started by the release of ‘Gravity’ in 1992.
Whilst indie fans might greater relief in comparisons to Gram Parsons, Giant Sand, Ryan Adams, Calexico, the Cowboy Junkies there’ll be those who recognise the signatures of Townes Van Zandt, Ray Wylie Hubbard and even Lee Hazelwood. That it’s flaky and incorrigible roots music should be taken as red. That it’s as equally gritty and surreal should court surprise. But why are we only hearing about him now? Here’s why..
Following a show in Phoenix on April 26, 2003, Escovedo collapsed and was hospitalised due to complications from Hepatitis C. With no health insurance to cover the mounting medical bills and loss of income as Alejandro continues to pursue treatment. In response to an outpouring of concern from friends and associates ‘Por Vida’ has been put together by way of tribute and trust fund. Anyone wishing to purchase the album will not only be supporting his speedy restoration, they’ll also be treating themselves to an incomparable roster of alt-country talent: Steve Earle, Peter Buck, Ian Hunter, John Cale, Calexico, Jayhawks, Lucinda Williams, Howe Gelb, Jennefier Warnes, Cowboy Junkies, Son Volt and Los Lonely Boys.
Best of the bunch? ‘Velvet Guitar’ by the Nicholas Tremulis Orchestra’, John Cales’s ‘She Doesn’t Live Here Anymore’, John Langford’s and Sally Timms’ ‘Broken Bottle’, M. Ward/Howe Gelb’s ‘Way It Goes’ and The Minus Five’s ‘I Was Drunk’.