The multiplatinum success of their debut made San Angelo’s LOS LONELY BOYS one of Texas’s biggest musical exports. Small wonder. The Garza brothers—Henry, Ringo, and JoJo—oozed charisma and played a melodic, amped-up brand of rock and roll. There are a few embellishments sprinkled about—keyboards, percussion, Willie Nelson—but the formula remains unaltered for their follow-up, SACRED (Or/Epic). Sibling harmonies lock in, and Henry’s guitar histrionics rival favorite state son Stevie Ray Vaughan’s. Their music, particularly when it pulls in Latin influences, blisters. Yet they have absolutely nothing new to say. Sure, there’s plenty to admire: Melodies sparkle, and “Oye Mamacita” and “I Never Met a Woman” are as good as anything they’ve done. But the blueprints seem worn. Clichés are bandied about like trophies. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna do it my way,” the Garzas sing, as if for the first time. Elsewhere, they “smell the roses” and, living up to their moniker, proclaim themselves “lost and lonely” at least twice (not including the song “My Loneliness”). As for the “I ain’t got much” line, it’s a bit late for that one, isn’t it?
