If Alejandro Escovedo's life has been an open book, then his music has provided the soundtrack--chapters of which recount his father's moving north from Mexico and his ex-wife's suicide in 1991 and his divorce from his second wife in 2001 and his being diagnosed with Hepatitis C last year. You can no more separate his life from his art than you can his heart from his chest. Having bad stuff happen to you, again and again and again, is a hell of a way to find inspiration; it gives new meaning to the phrase "concept album," absolutely. No matter how brilliant his songs, these chamber-punk-rock-a-country beasts that willfully defy classification have always worked best within the confines and context of the whole. It seems a hopeless... More >>>