There are some artists who are like a best kept secret. This is convenient for the elitist punter but not so for the artist in question who may be heartily sick of the diminishing financial returns that the privilege of ‘cult status’ offers. Such artists usually work extraordinarily hard at breaking into the mainstream whilst remaining true to their creative instincts, releasing records and playing live shows in the expectation that they will eventually make that step up to wherever.
Some, like Alejandro Escovedo , box a bit cleverer and recruit Tony Visconti to produce an album and share a stage with Bruce Springsteen, knowing all along that he will forever be a ‘musician’s musician’ – that damned with faint praise label - admired but obscure.
Nevertheless, I’m surprised when I walk into York Fibbers on a wet October Monday night to find myself in the company of just 60 or so other customers. I’m also a bit disorientated at the makeover the venue has had since I was last there, and as I lean on the bar I begin to work out that this is where the stage used to be, the only familiar aspect of the old place seems to be the vague stench emanating from the gents to my right.
The support artist – Christopher Rees – is just winding down as I gaze to my left and see the striking figure of Escovedo sat low on a bench, attentively listening and then breaking into warm applause after each song. At the end of the set he gets up and discretely makes his way through a curtain to the back of the stage and I can’t help noticing his wonderful boots (I have a thing about footwear). A Texan of Mexican dissent he is a fabulous dresser who carries himself with a natural air of confidence. His body language shouts ‘I know what I am doing’. He is very lithe 60.
Like the best songwriters Escovedo sings about what he knows so his lyrics are urban sketches of underdogs and free spirits struggling to make an honest way in the world. For this short European tour, he is joined by the guitarist Dave Pulkington and they have set the songs to acoustic arrangements that make the most of their guitar virtuosity and allow the lyrics to take centre stage.
I’ve seen quite a few sparsely populated gigs, the odd one where it’s been clear the artist would rather not have bothered. Here, he engages with the audience from the start – he is genuinely pleased to be here, and his anecdotes and introductions to the songs establish an immediate rapport. He talks about how his ‘sucky’ band, The Nuns, opened for the Sex Pistols at their final gig in 1979 at the Winterland, San Francisco and how he got to know Sid Vicious in the days before he died. The song, ‘Chelsea Hotel ’78’, describes that time, the authenticity undeniable.
He talks about how his 19 year old son (he also has six daughters) is scornful of his ‘old man’s music’ - the gorgeous ballad ‘Down In The Bowery’ reflective of the unconditional love we have for our sons and daughters. And he plays two songs from a song cycle he wrote for his father (who died aged 97) after recounting how he had crossed America from Mexico in search of his own family.
There is a joy to the playing, and Escovedo and Pulkington clearly love the interplay and the energy they create. They just bounce off each other. Pulkington is a fine guitarist, with classical interludes giving way to moments of boisterous flamenco. At times, he almost assaults the instrument, and you fear for his fingers on the nylon strings when he niftily switches the plectrum from the right hand to between his teeth.
They close with ‘Always A Friend’, a song he wrote with Chuck Prophet and which he performed on stage with Springsteen in 2004. It’s a straight ahead pop song about trust and faith and it sums up the uncomplicated honesty with which Escovedo goes about his business. The small crowd is absolutely on his side – we appreciate his endeavour and I’m slightly embarrassed at the size of the turn-out but they’ve played as if we are 6,000 and not 60.
They perform two unamplified encore songs on the floor of the club as we gather intimately around them. It seems like a special moment and at 10.30pm I’m back in the car and home 45 minutes later with that feeling only (yes only!) live music can bring. Maybe Escovedo’s new album will be the one that delivers him commercial success - probably not. On the evidence of tonight, I’m not sure he’s all that concerned and I’m happy that he remains one of the best kept secrets in modern music.
Escovedo/ Springsteen - 'Beast Of Burden' (Stones cover) 23/7/11. Stone Pony, New Jersey
