Alejandro Escovedo!

Here are two possible signs of the existence of God, at least in my particular universe: (1) Venerable Texas soul man Alejandro Escovedo recently hit the Billboard 200 album chart for the first time ever with his terrific new album, "Real Animal" (only as high as a modest No. 122, of course, but still); and (2), this morning I heard the "Real Animal" track "Chelsea Hotel '78" on the radio, the first time I've ever heard Escovedo on the radio outside of his hometown of Austin, Texas. You can also check his MySpace to see some recent performance footage, including a clip of Escovedo onstage with one of the biggest rock stars of our time.

As to why these and other recent events are so satisfying and improbable, below is a feature about a particularly cool benefit show for Escovedo that happened here in Raleigh five years ago.

ADDENDUM (7/30/08): Wow, The New Republic.

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Musicians rally to support a 'cool uncle'
By David Menconi, News & Observer
Nov. 23, 2003

The Backsliders were always poster children for the adage that members of a band don't have to get on well to make great music. Their synthesis of country twang and blazing rock firepower made the Backsliders Raleigh's hottest band in the mid-1990s -- even though co-leaders Chip Robinson and Steve Howell couldn't stand each other. When the breakup came, it was ugly.

"Those guys," says bassist Danny Kurtz of his old band mates, "are both their own worst enemies."

Today, however, Robinson and Howell will put aside past differences to reconvene an updated version of the Backsliders for their first performance since 1998. All it took was a matter of life and death: a benefit show at Raleigh's Retail Bar for Alejandro Escovedo, a Texas musician battling hepatitis C without benefit of health insurance.

"I'm very happy they're getting back together," says Van Alston, one of the event's co-organizers (and arguably the biggest Backsliders fan on earth). "I would not have foreseen it happening under any circumstances, except for somebody of Alejandro's stature. He's so well-loved among the community, it doesn't surprise me they'd do it for him."

Escovedo has never been a big record seller, and he has never progressed to venues bigger than nightclubs. But he has made some of the loveliest music of the past decade, merging old-world wisdom with new-world rock 'n' roll into orchestrated, lavishly passionate punk rock for the soul. That his music has never found the larger audience it deserves does not diminish its beauty.

The Backsliders aren't the only long-sundered North Carolina band regrouping today to come to his aid. Peter Holsapple and Chris Stamey, co-founders of Tar Heel power-pop legends the dB's, will play together for the first time since the mid-1990s. And the closing act is 6 String Drag, also reunited after a five-year hiatus. Between the old-timers and such young guns as Goner, the lineup spans a wide range of local music history.

Musicians are throwing Escovedo benefit shows in other cities, too, including San Francisco, Chicago, Detroit, San Diego and Austin, Texas. Actor George Wendt served as emcee for the San Francisco show, which also featured an A-list lineup of underground roots rock -- Peter Case, Dave Alvin, the Iguanas and Jonathan Richman, among others. Earlier this month, Triangle expatriate Phil Lee journeyed from his current hometown of Nashville to play an Escovedo benefit in Michigan. And Flatlanders co-leader Joe Ely will headline another benefit show in Houston on Dec. 13.

"Alejandro's always been kinda like your cool uncle," says Jon Wurster of Superchunk, another band on today's bill. "He's just a sweetheart. There's something about him that people pick up on. He's charismatic in a not-immediately-obvious way, which is attractive. Great style, one of the best dressers I know of. And he's got a good heart."

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Ailment can be fatal

Hepatitis C is a chronic inflammation of the liver that can lead to death. The only cure is a liver transplant. Most people try to manage the disease through lifestyle changes.

Escovedo was diagnosed seven years ago, but he maintained a regular touring and recording schedule until this past spring. One of his most ambitious projects was 2000's "By the Hand of the Father," a theatrical work based on the experiences of earlier generations of Mexican-Americans. The soundtrack featured contributions from Los Lobos guitarist Cesar Ramos and Tejano superstar Ruben Ramos.

From nightclub stages to living-room house concerts, the Triangle was one of Escovedo's favorite places to play outside of Texas. He also frequently came here to record, making his last two albums at Chris Stamey's studio in Chapel Hill. The plan was for him to make another album there this year. But then, Escovedo says, he "hit a wall."

After an April 26 show in Phoenix, he collapsed and was hospitalized with internal bleeding. He had to cancel everything for the rest of the year, including a June concert with Tift Merritt at Raleigh's N.C. Museum of Art. Since then, Escovedo has been on a grueling regimen of interferon, ribavirin and various alternative medicines. Symptoms of the treatment include depression, exhaustion, headaches and what he calls "some pretty nasty and weird behavior."

"It's been [expletive] hard, to be quite honest," he sighs, speaking by phone from his home near San Antonio. "I'm just trying to get through this. The weird part is, I don't feel like doing anything. I hardly even want to play. One of my doctors told me this is like the opposite of hedonism. Anything you enjoyed before, you won't while you're on these drugs."

For Escovedo, not wanting to play music is akin to you or me losing interest in breathing. He has no idea when he might be well enough to play again.

"I've had a lot of time to think about things, re-evaluate my whole life and what I'll do if I can get better," he says. "One thing we've determined is that I can't tour like I used to. So that's out. The whole lifestyle is out. I can't drink anymore. So I'm in this adjustment period, figuring things out. The medicine makes you feel like you'll never be yourself again. I'm trying to think positively about it. Maybe I won't be able to do things the same, but I'll do good somehow.

"It's funny, I used to play so many benefits for other people and I never wanted to be on this end of it," he adds. "So it's an odd position. Very humbling. You never stop to think if people care, and I've been fortunate to see that people do. So that's been touching, even if it's kinda uncomfortable. People's generosity and compassion can be overwhelming, and you want to run and hide. Which, I've got to tell you, is odd. I've always been one for the spotlight."

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Utter perfection

Before he took ill, Escovedo recorded a couple of songs with Stamey for his next album. One of them, "One True Love," is five minutes of utter perfection, all because of Escovedo's delivery. The chorus consists of Escovedo simply repeating the title four times, and you've never heard anyone communicate more about love, life and death with 12 words and a chord change.

"He can sing quieter than anything, and the whole audience is just wrapped around the song," Holsapple says. "Which is what all songwriters want to do, but only a few practitioners of the craft can get over. The rest of us just bombard with volume, and he can do that, too."

For now, "One True Love" can be heard only at www.alejandrofund.com (it's available for download if you contribute to Escovedo's medical fund). It's heartbreaking because it shows Escovedo is still at the top of his musical game and because of its elegiac sweep. A full album of similar songs might be too much for this world to withstand. But that has always been Escovedo's gift -- pulling you in just to break your heart, yet somehow leaving you uplifted.

The nature of Escovedo's work adds a level of poignancy to today's benefit show. The beneficiary won't be there in body, but it's likely his spirit will be felt.

"This is a pretty important thing to be doing," Holsapple says, helping out an uninsured comrade with a life-threatening illness. "It's good for musicians' souls to play shows like this, because we spend so much time preening and wondering why we're not household names. It's a good object lesson -- at a hard cost."