2002 was a busy year for Austin’s Alejandro Escovedo. The man No Depression magazine dubbed artist of the decade in the ‘90s saw two albums, Gravity and Thirteen Years, reissued with 24-bit mastering and bonus discs. Those records were largely informed by the suicide of Escovedo’s estranged wife, with the resulting shock and grief yielding back-to-back masterpieces. Last year also saw the appearance of By The Hand Of The Father, the soundtrack to a theater work of the same name featuring new material plus rearranged tunes from previous Escovedo albums. Meanwhile, in between performing with the By The Hand road production, Escovedo was also writing songs for his next studio album, the follow-up to the Chris Stamey-produced ‘01 record A Man Under The Influence.

His recent tour, however, took even veteran Escovedo watchers by surprise. It commenced on February 14 with two sold-out shows at Chicago’s Old Town School Of Folk Music, then wound its way East and spent a good chunk of the itinerary in the South, including a stop at respected Asheville folk/country/roots venue the Grey Eagle. Intriguingly, Escovedo was backed not by his usual rock combo but by what he dubbed the Texas String Quartet: David Pulkingham on classical guitar, Susan Voelz (Poi Dog Pondering, Aluminum Group, Giant Sand) on violin and backing vocals, Cynthia Wigginton (Mekons, Richard Buckner) on violin and Matthew Fish (Turtle Island String Quartet) on cello. And as Escovedo noted at the beginning, the set we were about to see would keep the Valentine’s Day theme intact, focusing on the key ballads and love songs—some sweet and tender, some poisoned and spiteful—in his repertoire.

Tim Easton’s 45-minute opening set promoted his just-issued third album, Break Your Mother’s Heart. Easton (who was backed by Wilco on 2001’s critically hailed The Truth About Us; for the new album, he graduated to a big budget with producer John Hanlon and session notables such as bassist Hutch Hutchinson, drummer Jim Keltner and guitarist Mike Campbell) seemed a little stiff, quite frankly. He spoke only briefly to the crowd and barely acknowledged his bassist and drummer; the set’s pacing lagged somewhat as well due to a dominance of slow material. That said, there’s no avoiding the man’s talent. He’s blessed with a sweet, ragged voice midway between Gene Clark and Paul Simon (a lot of his melodies seem to take cues from Simon as well), has a guitar style that, at times, is as fluid as Roger McGuinn’s, as earthy-rootsy as John Fogerty’s and visually resembles a slightly older, more chiseled Ryan Adams, affecting a similar just-out-of-bed tousled-hair look.

A good representation of the Mother’s Heart material was aired, including the rousing, talking-blues shuffle “Lexington Jail,” a haunted, regretful ballad called “Watching The Lightning,” Latin-flavored ballad “Amor Azul” and a power-poppish gem, “Poor Poor LA,” during which Easton’s rippling fretboard twang brought to mind yet another member of the Byrds, the late Clarence White. Other highlights included two songs from his first album, 1998’s Special 20: swamp-rock choogler “Just Like Home” and a wistful acoustic number, “All The Pretty Girls Leave Town.” When the bassist switched to Dobro and Easton strapped on a harmonica so the two could tear it up, strum-wise, the crowd responded in a most rousing fashion. On balance, a good show from a artist whose star is on the rise. I’ll pay to see him again.

Escovedo & Co. shuffled onstage to no fanfare, just some moderate tuning up that segued into the neoclassical “Thirteen Years Theme.” As Escovedo has been utilizing string arrangements on his solo albums from the beginning, the string quartet fit is natural; the bonus disc accompanying the 2002 version of Thirteen Years included three songs (Peter Case’s “Two Angels,” the Velvet Underground’s “Pale Blue Eyes” and Mott The Hoople’s “I Wish I Was Your Mother”—hold that thought) recorded in ‘93 with Voelz and a cellist accompanying Escovedo. In short order we were treated to a new composition titled “Deer Head On The Wall” (the gentle, waltz-like tune was described by Escovedo as “a taxidermy love song about emptiness”); the baroque pop of “Baby’s Got New Plans” (which he advised was “inspired by the movie Paris, Texas”); a startling reworking of “I Was Drunk” (“not a true story,” he quipped); and a version of the Velvets’ “I Heard Her Call My Name” (swirling and dissonant, with the cellist plucking stark bass lines, it had a controlled-chaos vibe that made me recall seeing Robert Fripp’s League Of Crafty Guitarists perform years ago).

Each song was a concise study in the skillful deployment of dynamics, like a succession of mini-symphonies. Escovedo also kept a close watch on the set list’s internal dynamics, keeping audience members literally sitting on the edge of their seats throughout. The response from the crowd seemed infectious, for at numerous songs’ conclusions the musicians would sit back in their chairs and offer huge, satisfied grins at one another. Escovedo was in a generous mood, spinning short introductory yarns and conducting the proceedings as if he were the featured artist on VH-1 Storytellers. At one point, during the complete version of “Thirteen Years”—which is definitely not a loud tune, more of a mournful antediluvian waltz rendered in respectful tones—the voices of a couple of girls gabbing and laughing back at the bar area were heard, followed by a loud “Shhhh!” from someone in the audience; the offenders quickly hushed, and Escovedo looked up, smiling as if to offer thanks for that gesture of respect. Later, between songs, Escovedo acknowledged the audience’s applause and casually mentioned that they had CDs available for purchase out near the club entrance. “You can tell I’m a Bloodshot artist,” he cracked, “because the opening act has a more elaborate merchandise setup than I do.” (Easton had a large cardboard display for his CDs, compared to Escovedo’s discs simply laying flat on the counter.)

A brief solo segment from Pulkingham (performing an instrumental theme from By The Hand on his nylon-string guitar) eased into a full-ensemble reading of “Ballad Of The Sun And The Moon” full of delicate nuance, impressionistic lyric imagery and—as befits the tour’s theme—deeply spun romanticism. Smiles all around from the musicians, too; they know it’s a terrific tune that translates well in all settings. “Velvet Guitar” was another high point, for the strings that were slightly relegated to background texture in the A Man Under The Influence studio version were now given front-and-center prominence. Fascinatingly, “Castanets,” a full-on rocker from that same album was translated as ... a full-on rocker in concert, with Pulkingham attacking his guitar as if he were a punk charging through a three-chord garage nugget. The agile, poppy “Rosalie” (about the courtship of a Hispanic man and his wife-to-be who discover their love through the letters they exchange) was simply breathtaking in its melodic lushness and emotional resonance. For his introduction, Escovedo explained that earlier in the day they’d stopped off in Burlington, N.C., for a visit with Pulkingham’s grandmother, and that they’d given her a private concert featuring the tune. This seemed altogether fitting, as “Rosalie” is a timeless-in-feel, yet out-of-time love song that can strike a chord within anyone who’s every fallen “under the influence”—no matter what the age or the generation.

For an encore, Escovedo took the crowd totally by surprise. After having the house lights brought up, he led the Quartet out into the audience. As we were in non-fixed seating with a small center aisle, the chairs were pushed back to form a cirle around the performers, who stood among us and performed "I Wish I Was Your Mother," the Ian Hunter/Mott The Hoople classic, unmiked. Everyone was making eye contact—performers and club patrons—and to say it was an intimate moment, well, that's an understatement.