By: David Schultz

There’s no bigger asset to becoming a successful artist than word of mouth. If enough people say a certain artist is the greatest thing to come along since Lennon met McCartney, it doesn’t matter if they actually are, the gospel is written and so it shall be. This can produce some bizarre scenarios such as Terrence Trent D’Arby being proclaimed the new James Brown, a widespread vision that Joanna Newsom will reinvent popular music in her image or just the simple belief that Cat Power is sane. Sometimes though, the prevailing collective mindset can be the correct and proper one: especially as it pertains to Alejandro Escovedo. The Austin-based singer-songwriter is one of the few artists whose esteem is inversely proportional to the number of people who could pick him or his music out of a lineup. He’s reached the level of hipness that people will lavish praise on him even if they don’t know exactly why they’re doing so.

Escovedo may one of the best kept secrets of the modern age. Last week, the 57-year-old troubadour returned to New York City for a headlining set at the HighLine Ballroom, playing a ninety minute set heavy on selections from his recently released Real Animal and replete with the reasons Escovedo is simply cooler than the rest of us. Over the course of Escovedo’s considerable career, he’s been a punk, a rebel, a balladeer and an alt-country pioneer. In moving on to new styles, Escovedo has never left anything behind. He brings together his various personae and seamlessly meshes edgy rock and roll riffs with lush orchestral strings; he’s as much Lou Reed as he is Doug Sahm.

In order to get the proper mood, Escovedo has put together a finely honed group of musicians. Guitarist David Pulkingham, bassist Josh Gravelin and drummer Hector Munoz work out the polished rock and roll riffs and cellist Brian Standefer and violinist Susan Voelz add wonderful orchestral counterpoint while remaining loose enough to keep it from sounding stuffy, When paired with the romantic and wistful feeling of Escovedo’s voice, the result is quite gripping.

Escovedo retains enough of the aging punk to give his songs an edge but it was only the gray beards in the audience - the ones who couldn’t tell No Age from new age - that responded as if they were in the mosh pit at CBGB. For as fine a songwriter as he is, Escovedo doesn’t have the force of personality to push finely crafted songs like “Put You Down,” along with an unbridled fury. Fortunately, it’s not something he tries to do. With the demeanor of the veteran who doesn’t need to prove how cool he is, Escovedo let the songs unfold and mid-set he unleashed a moving version of “Rosalie” after a beautiful opening guitar intro.

When he wasn’t deflecting some puzzling pseudo-heckling from the crowd or inspiring a brief outburst of violence from two of the oldest people to ever scuffle at a show, Escovedo charmed the crowd with new songs like “Always A Friend,” “Sister Lost Soul” and “Chelsea Hotel ’78.” He also got a little Dixie Chicksish in his preface to a rollicking version of “Castanets,” sarcastically pointing out how happy he was that with the end of the Bush era, W. would be returning to his home state of Texas. For his encore, Escovedo trotted out his influences, covering The Stooges, The Rolling Stones and Mott The Hoople with Pulkingham and Gravelin adding soaring backing vocals on “All The Young Dudes.”

A couple years back, Escovedo removed “Castanets” from his set list after reading a story in the New York Times that George W. Bush had the song prominently featured in his iPOD. The cynic in me believes that this fact proves the cachet of acknowledging Escovedo’s name. While it’s entirely possible that Bush is familiar with the music and catalog of his fellow Texan, it’s equally as possible that a staffer answering the question for him decided that listening to Alejandro Escovedo would make the President seem cool. At least one person in Washington knows what they’re doing.

Labels: Alejandro Escovedo