Teethed on the garage bands of the mid-1960s, he was regularly found among the fervent fans at the front of the stage at concerts throughout Southern California. He began to surmise the possibilities for rock’s elemental sounds to express literary and intellectual notions as well as explore darkness and decadence with the emergence of The Velvet Underground.

He began playing guitar in the mid-1970s in San Francisco when he formed a group to play “the worst band in the world” for a student film he was making. That band became The Nuns, one of the seminal groups of the Bay Area punk movement. Escovedo moved to New York City, arriving at the height of the downtown Manhattan new-music scene. There he joined fellow San Francisco punk veterans Chip and Tony Kinman (from The Dils) in Rank & File, which forged the early 1980s country-punk sound that later became known as alt-country.

Escovedo relocated to Austin and formed True Believers with his brothers Javier and Graham, and they quickly became the leading lights of the Austin scene. They blazed a trail of rock ’n’roll fury, often sharing the stage with their West Coast spiritual cousins, Los Lobos.

Escovedo continued to refine his songwriting, laying the groundwork for a solo career. Gravity, his 1992 debut, earned raves in the national media and brought Escovedo “Musician of the Year” honors at the Austin Music Awards.

He followed Gravity with a series of albums that continued to earn high praise. And in 1998 No Depression magazine named him as its “Artist of the Decade.”

Yet for all the intimations of greatness, Escovedo’s life and career continued to be a hard road of more miles than money. A diagnosis of hepatitis C created even further burdens for him to bear.

“I was having a really good time playing music, drinking, smoking, and living the life,” Escovedo admits. He now recognizes that he was in deep denial regarding the deadly dangers of continuing the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle while infected with hepatitis C.

In April 2003, during a performance in Tucson, Arizona, Escovedo fell critically ill and was rushed to the emergency room. “I came close to dying in the hospital,” he says. “I wanted to live. But I really didn’t know if I had a chance.”

As soon as news spread of Escovedo’s illness, friends and fans began spontaneously to send funds to assist in his treatment and support him and his family. His peers in the music community staged benefit shows in more than a dozen cities across the nation.

The culmination of the benefit effort was Por Vida: A Tribute to the Songs of Alejandro Escovedo, a two-CD set featuring 31 artists performing his songs.

His struggle to regain health and wellness “was just hell sometimes,” says Escovedo. The effects of the medication were nearly as debilitating as the disease itself, and for a while it was unclear whether he would be able to make music again.

Looking back over the last three years, Escovedo observes, “It’s ironic that out of being so sick so many great things have happened.” And the best of them all may be recording The Boxing Mirror, a new album with John Cale.

“The reason it seems so perfect is that I’ve been trying to rip him off for years,” Escovedo says with a laugh. “I finally got it right; I had to get the master in there to learn how to do it. He really turned the songs into something special.”

In many ways, it all feels new for Escovedo. “When I go out and play now, people are really happy to see us again. And the songs mean something to them, and that’s the greatest gift you can give a songwriter,” he says. As for his wild ways in the past, “I was just playing Russian roulette. Now I know better. If I had a drink, even one, it could be the drink that kills me. I can’t take that chance.”

With his renewed health has also come a greater clarity of thought and purpose that imbues The Boxing Mirror with a stunning emotional power. Alejandro Escovedo has created what can truly be called the album of his life.