Review Summary: Texas Barbecue.
Being born and raised in New Mexico, I get defensive about what little we can claim to be ours. Like, don't ever *** with Breaking Bad, green chile, Carlsbad Caverns, or Ancestral Puebloan ruins. That's purely New Mexican, no Tex-Mex, Colorado potheads, or whatever needed. Similarly, when I saw the band name Sons of Texas paired with the album title "Baptized in the Rio Grande", I started to rage. The Rio Grande ("big river" in Spanish) barely touches Texas, goddammit! If anyone can claim ownership of the Rio Grande, it's New Mexico--the state is almost literally cut in half by the river, while it literally forms the border between Texas and Mexico. I threw things around my house while blasting this album and realized: the fellas in Sons of Texas are lucky that their debut album is fun as hell.
I bet you couldn't guess where this band is from.
Regardless, "Baptized in the Rio Grande", like good Texas barbecue, is a blend of coleslaw Southern rock and spicy BBQ pulled pork groove metal, echoing in equal measure Allman Brothers and Pantera to an explicitly Southern experience. Both smooth and crunchy, this album is no-frills, no filler groovy and crunchy. Songs like the title track, "Breathing through My Wounds", and "September" are smooth ballads that showcase singer Mark Morales' grunge-tinged croons and appropriate instrumental accompaniment, while cuts such as "Nothing King", "Never Bury the Hatchet", "Blameshift", and "Drag the Blade" display Morales' Phil Anselmo-esque roars, Jes de Hoyos' shredding and technical guitar solos, Jon Olivarez and Nick Villarreal's shredding downtuned grooves, and Mike Villarreal's energetic and powerful drumming.
While there's nothing stylistically inventive about what Sons of Texas does, the album has a listenability factor that overrules its lack of originality. While Morales' cleans could use some more charisma, the guitars could stand to include more, and the bass is buried, the chemistry is real. With all the factors above involved, blended together with fantastic mixing, it hearkens back to something southern rock often does well: it's hella fun.
While I'm sure to hoard my green chile more closely while I watch Breaking Bad while saluting the Zia symbol, I can appreciate that, like good Texas barbecue, we all need a good kick in the gut here and there with a nice swig of antacids to wash it down.
