Adanowsky for LA Weekly

Like a latter-day Serge Gainsbourg, the singer Adanowsky emanates cosmic sensuality, leaving a trail of fluttery-eyed females in his musky, potent wake. Such was the case as he glided through Harvard and Stone last week, all furrowed brow and crumpled shirt, looking like a broken-hearted mariachi without a guitar. (He also performs in L.A. tonight and tomorrow; details at the bottom of the post.)
Adanowsky, whose real name is Adan Jodorowsky, was in town from Mexico City to perform songs from his latest album, Amador -- Spanish for 'lover.' It's a collection of croony folk ballads designed to inspire long afternoons in bed and prolonged eye contact.

Amador is second in a series of four records, geared at exploring "the corporeal, the emotional, the sexual and the intellectual" in that order, he tells us, sitting in the cramped smoking area behind Harvard and Stone. "It's the earth, water, fire and air." Each album sees Adanowsky adopt an entirely new character and this persona, the Amador, is quite simply "obsessed with love," Jodorowsky continues.

"He is spiritual, though, which is a transition from the first record, The Idol, in which the character was suffering a lot. The Amador is sick of the darkness, and moving into a place of peace."

Adanowsky wrote the record after a gnarly break-up with his girlfriend of four years. Rather than drown in his sorrows, he visited a mystic up in a mountain in Mexico, and underwent a psychedelic healing experience that could have been straight out of his father's film epic, The Holy Mountain.

Indeed, his dad is cult movie director Alejandro Jodorowsky, the Salvador Dali of 20th century cinema, and one of the leading figures in avant garde cinema. His film El Topo become the first midnight cult film, resulting in John Lennon giving him $1million to make The Holy Mountain. Jodorowsky's failed attempt to make the film Dune -- before the project was handed to David Lynch -- is considered among the greatest films never made.

"I decided to go to the mountain because the healer told me I had a closed heart," says Adan, in his honey-accented English. "He started to do magic on me--without drugs--and after five days of healing I went back to Mexico City, almost dying. I went to the shower and I was lying on the floor; I crawled to my bed and looked up at the ceiling and I felt my chest opening. And suddenly I felt alright, like I am going to start a new life."

Read the rest here