POP MUSIC REVIEW : Willy DeVille Shows What a Survivor He Is

Having toiled in the rock biz since the heyday of the lower-Manhattan music scene 13 years ago, and having weathered a messy divorce, messier managerial problems and a long battle with drugs, there’s no question that Willy DeVille is a soul survivor.

What hasn’t survived is the soul.

At the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano Sunday night, backed by a new Mink DeVille band (with no familiar faces), he was still singing about the aching sadness of failed love--and thanks to his vocal gifts, you could still feel the ache. But these days he casts his tales as airy ballads or remarkably feisty rock romps. The R&B--especially; the swaggering soul--around which he built his career is pretty much gone.

This is not bad, nor is it very surprising. Two years ago, when he dissolved Mink DeVille and recorded the solo album “Miracle” (produced and featuring guitar-playing by Dire Straits maestro Mark Knopfler), his intention was to get away from the stylized Mink DeVille sound. He felt that he had painted himself into a corner with the R&B; and soul orientation, the smoky sax and other musical elements.

With his presentation at the Coach House, he was merely staying true to his new musical direction. And it worked enormously well.

He still managed to hurl a few curve balls, though, both sonic and visual.

Cruising on stage as the band lit into a fairly hoppin’, boppin’ take on “Lilly’s Daddy’s Cadillac”--rail thin, occasionally flashing a gold tooth from his reptilian face--he was decked out in some kind of matador jacket, leather pants, boots, hoop earrings and poofy black pompadour. We aren’t exactly talking GQ material here. But we are talking one of the coolest guys in rock, and an eminently engaging performer. DeVille smoking a cigarette is more interesting than most rockers going through their on-stage gyrations.

More importantly, clear-eyed and in fine voice, Willy delivered the goods. Whether performing tunes from “Miracle” such as “Heart and Soul”--an atmospheric piece with a Latin lilt, over which he sang a naked pledge of undying love and devotion--or re-arranged versions of early classics, Willy was on top of his game, investing every word with seemingly heartfelt emotion. He still comes across as a romantic who’s not only incurable but absolutely not interested in being cured.

He also injected many of the numbers with some stinging guitar licks. On an initially unrecognizable rendition of Moon Martin’s “Cadillac Walk” (much bigger, denser and more booming than Mink DeVille’s recorded version), he cut loose with some wailing slide guitar.

It was that kind of night--full of surprises, mostly pleasant ones. To those who openly pine for the Mink DeVille sound and style of yesteryear, Willy would probably lean forward, flash a gold-toothed grin and say, “Tough.” We’d have to agree.