(NEW YORK) -- With two decades of music-making behind him, Dave Alvin has a closet-full of descriptors to wear at his leisure. |

Problem is, few of them are a perfect fit. "Singer-songwriter" is an easy catch-all, but doesn't really do him justice. "King of California" is a lot snazzier, but geographically restrictive for an artist whose best songs paint the human condition on a canvas much larger than the Golden State.

Alvin recently toured as a "Monster of Folk" alongside Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Tom Russell and Chris Smither, but the conceit, though fitting based on strength of song, seems premature when applied to anyone other than old-school-veteran Elliott. No, the tag that fits Alvin the best is the one that he walked away from more than 10 years ago: he's a Blaster, plain and simple. And if he's got a problem with that, he's gonna have to steer clear of the mercilessly soulful, scorching club shows like tonight's and sell his soul to the coffee house circuit.

Alvin started the evening out in fine, albeit reserved, folk monster form with five generous slices of pensive roots rock. "King of California" was greeted with "Freebird" -- worthy whoops, but the haunting "California Snow" and title-track from his new album, Blackjack David, better demonstrated Alvin's command of the crowd (not so much as a peep to be heard) and his ability to spin a gripping tale through song: A family of immigrants freezing to death in the California elements; a woman leaving her husband and child to pursue the charms of a traveling stranger. When one audience member chased "Blackjack David" by shouting, "Tell us a story, Dave," Alvin shot back with good-natured exasperation, "I just told five!"

Storytime over though (for the moment), it was time to rock. Alvin swapped his acoustic guitar for an electric and led his four-member Guilty Men band in a charge through the Blasters' retrobilly rave-up, "So Long Baby Goodbye." As songs go, Alvin's Blasters chestnuts have nothing on his latter-day tales of tortured desire, midlife crisis and despair, but they sound hot-as-shit and allow him a chance to step forward and flex his guitar muscle. And when Alvin does -- legs spread eagled, eyes closed, face contorted in a big goofy smile with his tight band roaring behind him -- it's tempting to believe you're witnessing the be-all, end-all of post-Chuck Berry American rock & roll.

That's saying a lot, and frankly, it's a revelation that has never quite been captured on record, be it on Alvin's solo work or even on his best Blasters recordings. But when he cuts loose on stage, Alvin delivers more heat and excitement in his straight-forward blues riffing than any contemporary guitarist of the flashier Hendrix/Stevie Ray Vaughan school. Unlike his stunning lyrics, Alvin's short little solos don't linger in your head long after they're gone, but they hammer home their point with cunning efficiency and leave you anxiously awaiting the next one.

Of course, such chops are de rigeur for Blasters songs ("Marie Marie," "American Music"), but it's when they're married with the drama of Alvin's more thoughtful, later material (the excellent new "Abilene" and "4th of July," originally penned during his short stint in X), that the full extent of his talent comes to the fore. The Monsters of Folk tour may have shown that Alvin can sit down with an acoustic guitar and quietly sing narrative songs with the best of them, but tonight proved that he gets his stories across just as well, if not better, when he stands up and blasts the hell out of them. (Richard Skanse)