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Escovedo, SCOTS: Paradise found
Tuesday at the Continental Club. This is the kind of night when Austin earns its reputation, when there is no opener and headliner, but just two bands out to blow you away. First up is Alejandro Escovedo, soon to be the subject of a documentary by Oscar-winning director Jonathan Demme. The house is perfectly “load card” full, which is to say it’s at about 90% capacity.
Looking more like a rock star than he has since his True Believers days, Escovedo starts playing a rhythm of relentless pursuit on his electric guitar, then lead guitarist David Pulkingham flies into the fray on “Always a Friend,” from the upcoming album “Real Animal.” It’s stunningly powerful, but there’s also a melodic thrust. Clara the back bartender comes out from behind her beer bucket to dance at the side of the stage and it’s 1986 again.
The basic gtr/gtr/bs/drms lineup follows with “Everybody Loves Me,” drummer Hector Munoz crashing beautifully, like a Jaguar through a showroom window. “I Was Drunk” was a little long and “Rosalie” entirely unnecessary, but the new songs sounded great, especially “Sensitive Boys,” a song inspired by brother Javier, and “Sister Lost Soul.” So glad Escovedo has returned to rock ‘n’ roll after his reflective “Hand of the Father” period.
The set ended with a furious “Castanets,” Escovedo still having something to prove, and then an encore of Neil Young’s “Powderfinger,” with members of Southern Culture on the Skids rocking out on the side of the stage.
The amazing SCOTS, with Rick Miller’s nasty guitar leads setting the pace, came out swinging on the first of a five-night stand. The Continental is the band’s home away from North Carolina and they just ooze confidence. As always, Mary Huffman was the bassist you could see and hear all night, bringing a B-52s vibe with her version of “The Real Nitty Gritty” and just generally supplying the cool to go with Miller’s scorch.
I first saw these guys at SXSW around 1990 and then saw them every chance I could for the next five years. But it’s been awhile and I wasn’t sure they’d do it for me any more. But SCOTS is better than ever. They can pack a groove like Jerry Reed fronting vintage Creedence, with Bo Diddley’s maracas man on the side.
I didn’t stay for the fried chicken segment of the show (“8-Piece Box”). It was Tuesday well after midnight and people, I was rocked out. On the way home I had to laugh and wonder what was happening in Nashville, in Seattle, in New York or L.A. on Tuesday night.
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