Alejandro Escovedo: Animal Magnetism

Real Animal
Alejandro Escovedo
(Back Porch/Manhattan)

Five years ago, Alejandro Escovedo collapsed on stage in Tucson, Ariz., weakened by a case of Hepatitis C that had gone untreated for years. With a little help from his friends, in the form of tribute discs and benefit shows, Escovedo got back on his feet. He returned with one of the strongest albums in a stellar career, 2006’s “The Boxing Mirror,” a remarkably rich, elegant tapestry that carried an entirely appropriate pugilistic metaphor in its title. Battling for his life, Escovedo emerged with his masterpiece.

Or at least it was his masterpiece. Just two years later, Escovedo is back with a riveting rock album that may be even stronger than “The Boxing Mirror.” One thing certainly can be said of “Real Animal”: It proves that Escovedo has got plenty of fight left in him.

The most significant difference between the albums is in the sound. “The Boxing Mirror” played to Escovedo’s sophisticated tendencies. “Real Animal,” as the title might lead one to believe, delivers more punch and plenty of swagger. Neither disc is stylistically all or nothing; it never is with Escovedo, who is well-versed in classical, country and The Clash. Chuck Prophet, who co-wrote all 13 songs, and producer Tony Visconti (T. Rex, David Bowie) help Escovedo distill his diverse musical DNA.

Escovedo’s sometimes rocky past again informs the new disc, proving that there’s no substitute for experience, even if it is occasionally life-threatening. But Escovedo didn’t succumb to his demons or his disease, and on “Real Animal” he shows he has emerged from his trials wiser and more defiant than ever.

Better than the last Bruce Springsteen album but destined to sell far fewer copies, “Real Animal” would be worth purchasing just to get the first five tracks. The disc opens with “Always a Friend,” a strong piece of power pop with string accents and irresistible “Oh oh, oh-oh-OH-oh” backup vocals destined to have you hooked in under three minutes. “Every once in a while, honey, let yourself go,” Escovedo sings, befitting a man with a new lease on life. His attitude doesn’t so much advocate recklessness, as it might have in younger years, as it does fearlessness. Live for the moment. It could be your last.

“Chelsea Hotel” recounts those younger, wilder years spent in that New York bohemian hangout. Lest the driving beat make it sound too glamorous, Escovedo references the star-crossed lovers who didn’t make it out alive: Sex Pistols bassist Sid Vicious and girlfriend Nancy Spungen. There really is no way to sugarcoat a young woman with a knife in her chest, and Escovedo doesn’t try. His refrain, “And it makes no sense / And it makes perfect sense,” acknowledges the coexistence of chaos and creativity.

“Sister Lost Soul,” one of the strongest songs on “Real Animal,” slows the tempo a bit but doesn’t sacrifice any of the intensity. In a gentle display of his craftsmanship, Escovedo manages to sing the song as a plea for some sort of reconciliation and at the same time turn it into a prayer for fellow travelers on the lost highway.

“Smoke” goes back to the guitar-based rock, with Escovedo straining in a semi-falsetto, “We’re gonna smoke baby smoke, all night long.” “Sensitive Boys” looks back at simpler times, providing an impressionistic portrait of the artist as a young man.

Whether the songs are largely factual or fictitious, Escovedo uses them to trace the arc of his 57 years. Love, lust and loss all have their place. Regret is expressed, but sometimes there’s a silver lining in the form of wisdom gained. Many of the song titles outline a loosely constructed biography. “Nuns Song” recalls Escovedo’s days with ’70s San Francisco punk band The Nuns. “We don’t want your approval / It’s 1978 / We know we’re not in tune / We know we’ll never be great,” Escovedo sings in an era-appropriate sneer. The grinding guitars are buttressed by strings, showing off the sophistication gained since those carefree days of three-chord chug. “Chip N’ Tony” alludes to former mates from the proto alt-country band Rank and File, Chip and Tony Kinman.

Escovedo doesn’t just relay his own musical history, which is considerable. The title track pays homage to Iggy Pop and his pack of rock and roll animals, The Stooges. But whether singing about people, places or philosophies, Escovedo is in essence telling his story. The names may be changed to protect the guilty, or the stories themselves might be products of Escovedo’s fertile imagination. It really doesn’t matter. The themes, as they often are when ascribed by gifted songwriters, blur the lines between the personal and the universal.

One part of his life that Escovedo does appear to address quite directly is his illness. The moody “Golden Bear” begins with the lines, “There’s a creature in my body / There’s a creature in my blood / Don’t know how long he’s been there / Or why he’s after us,” which seem to point directly to the bout with Hepatitis C. The bluesy “People (We’re Only Gonna Live So Long)” serves as a caution to those who would waste their days by warning, “We’ve still got time / But never quite as much as we think.” “Nuns Song” closes with the line, “We’ve got so much to live for / It’s not too late.”

The album’s closer, “Slow Down,” indicates that the artist would like to smell the roses, but his art depends on all that has gone before. “Slow down, slow down / It’s moving much too fast / I can’t live in this moment / When I’m tangled in the past.” Escovedo’s past and present are destined to be intertwined, to the betterment of his art. Such was the case with “The Boxing Mirror,” an album about the specter of death. And it is true of “Real Animal,” which is about living. Or, as Iggy might put it, a lust for life.