Lucero

The search for one’s identity is a lifelong process that every individual must go through. Who someone is today, is not the person they were yesterday nor who they may be tomorrow. Despite those changes, there is a general idea of a defined sense of self. No matter what happens, it is that small yet solid and grounding definition of self that continues to drive us forward in our search for identity and whatever may come with it.

It would be difficult to find any artist who understands that better than the band Lucero.

Since forming in Memphis in the late 90’s, Lucero’s base musical hallmarks have remained similar to the band’s initial sound established with their first record The Attic Tapes. In the history of their expansive discography, Lucero has evolved and embraced everything from southern rock to Stax-inspired Memphis soul, whilst simultaneously maintaining their distinctive sonic foundations. Over 20 years later, dedicated fans of the group still flock to hear the band’s punchy driving rhythms, punk-rooted guitar licks, and lyrics that evoke the whiskey drenched sentimentality of Americana singer-songwriters. As expected of any band built to survive, Lucero has welcomed change over the course of their career, but it has always been on their terms.

The band’s twelfth album, Should’ve Learned by Now, began its life as hardly more than some rough demos and lingering guitar parts. These pieces that were left behind from the band’s previous albums, Among the Ghosts (2018) and When You Found Me (2021) were deemed too uptempo and capering for the prior records’ darker themes.

“I had a particular sound I was looking for on each record and there was no room for any goofy rock & roll or cute witticisms or even simply upbeat songs,” said primary lyricist and frontman, Ben Nichols. “But now finally, it was time to revisit all of that stuff and get it out in the world. That’s how we got to the appropriately-for-us-titled album Should’ve Learned by Now. The album is basically about how we know we are fuckups and I guess we are ok with that.”

The band, comprised of all its original members (which in addition to Ben Nichols, includes Brian Venable on guitar, Roy Berry on drums, John C. Stubblefield on bass, and Rick Steff on keys) teamed up for a third time with producer and Grammy Award-winning engineer and mixer, Matt Ross-Spang. Lucero began the recording process in Sam Phillips Recording Service before transitioning and finishing the record in Ross-Spang’s newly opened Southern Grooves Productions in Memphis, TN. Ross-Spang appears to have settled in with the band’s more trademark sound whilst very much making his touch known to listeners.

“He knows how to take the sounds we’re making on our own and just kind of polish them up in the right way. Or dirty it up in the right way. Whatever it takes, he just kind of does it,” says Nichols.

The first track from the album “One Last F.U.” is a punchy and somewhat combative song which was one of the original remnants of Among the Ghosts. Despite its title, “One Last F.U.” is less about standoffishness and more a self-reflection on the kind of people we are capable of being in difficult situations. According to Nichols “The rest of the song was simply about wanting to be left alone while I drank at the bar. That could be taken in a kind of grumpy/antagonistic way, but I feel ok singing the song because I’ve been both characters in the song at different times. Sometimes I’m the one wanting to be left alone and sometimes I’m the drunk one blabbing all night to someone that just wants to be left alone.” Right off the bat, Nichols’ vocals are awash in rock and roll slap-back reverb. The effect pushes Nichols' naturally upfront vocals wider, so they fill the space in a manner more akin to a live performance. It’s one of a few new production effects that extend throughout the record and add a new level of presence and attitude to the band’s sound.

The second track, “Macon if We Make It”, was inspired by the band having to traverse through Georgia during a hurricane. When asked where the next stop on the tour was, the band responded with, “Macon, if we make it.” Continuing to be reminiscent of older works, “Macon if We Make It” has echoes of the band’s 2009 album 1372 Overton Park. The song is really driven by guitarist Brian Venable’s formidable electric guitar. The lyrics seem at first to be mostly preoccupied with a literal storm situation at hand but turn out to be more about a troubled relationship back home. The proverbial dam breaks when the narrator sings “I don’t know if we were in love. I just know it wasn’t enough. Got caught in the storm and the water it’s rising…” The song gives way to a powerful drum lead up by Roy Berry and the listener is carried out, like a raft, on a ripping guitar solo.

The pushes and pulls, builds and breakdowns are all over the album’s subsequent tracks, but it isn’t all hard-edged rock and roll all the time. “She Leads Me”, is inspired somewhat by the classic tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, and delves into a softer and more nostalgic sound. With backing vocals supplied by Jesse Davis and Cory Branan, it’s a song that lyrically rests on the concept that we sometimes need to recognize and acknowledge our past for a gentle enough reassurance to move forward.

The rest of the album dives right back into its more rock and roll songs with “At the Show” and “Nothing’s Alright”, both of which examine the highs and lows of remembering old loves, reminiscing on the old days, and contented introspection. Aspects which finally come to a head in the album’s title track “Should’ve Learned by Now”, a rough and edgy song that tackles the fact that all the lessons, though clearly recognized, have yet to sink in. Quite poetically, the song is set to a tune that may be the greatest call back to Lucero’s punk upbringing.

From its original Ben Nichols-designed cover art to its credits, the album is a reflection of a band that knows itself. Should’ve Learned by Now bridges the gap musically between “old Lucero” and “new Lucero” in a manner which affixes the band’s position as the perfect intersection of punk initiative with hard-earned artistry. It’s an album that recognizes the past in its sound and content, but leaves the door wide open to the future and for the lessons still in store.

Vandoliers are a uniquely Texas band, distilling the Lone Star State’s vast and diverse musical identity into a raucous, breakneck vibe that’s all their own. After spending much of the last three years furiously writing and recording music, this Dallas-Fort Worth six-piece is back with The Vandoliers, a new album that proves these rowdy, rollicking country punks are tighter, more cohesive and more sonically compelling than ever.

Forged in the fires of the COVID-19 pandemic, The Vandoliers is the product of a time of immense growth and change for the band. Though most of the record was written in 2019, following the release of their much-acclaimed album Forever, plans changed quickly in March 2020. “It was supposed to be a quick turnaround,” frontman Joshua Fleming says. “After touring with Lucero and the Toadies, we were supposed to go into the studio to knock out an album, and head to Europe for the first time.” That didn’t happen —their tours were canceled, the band’s label folded, and what was to come next was totally up in the air.

Recorded with Grammy-winning producer Eric Delegard at Reeltime Audio in Denton, TX, The Vandoliers is an album interrupted. The band’s original two-week recording session ended abruptly in March 2020 as shutdowns began across the globe. The band didn’t get back into the studio until November, at which point they realized that, like many of the best-laid plans, their original strategy for the record had to change. “We wanted to make an album that had the same power as our live performance — a tight, big sound,” Fleming says. “Through trial and error, label closure, fatherhood, sobriety, relapse, the album grew on its own stylistically. After the hardest two years of my life, we created a collection of songs that push us as musicians, songs that reaffirmed my place as a songwriter and a faith in ourselves as a band I don’t think we had before.”

Amid all that uncertainty, Vandoliers did what they knew best: they made music. First came “Every Saturday Night,” a pandemic-era appreciation of all the rowdy, late-night shows that we all missed while stuck at home. “I thought for sure that this would be the last song I would ever write. I missed all the little things about the life I lived up until that point,” Fleming says. “I missed the smells and tastes of a smoky dive bar, the long overnight drives listening to our favorite bands.” Those thoughts clearly struck a chord with listeners, earning the song heavy rotation on the radio, especially Sirius XM’s Outlaw Country, and jumpstarting the band’s plans to head back into the studio to encapsulate their electric live shows into the album that would eventually grow into The Vandoliers.

The Vandoliers is a manifesto, both sonically and lyrically. It’s an assertion of the band’s distinct character, their sonic rebelliousness, and big, bold stage presence. They’ve got range, too, but that should be expected from a band that deftly blends mariachi horns with country-punk rhythms. On “The Lighthouse,” tender vocals pair with Travis Curry’s delicate fiddle to create a sweet cowpunk lullaby written for Fleming’s one-year-old daughter Ruby Mae, born at the height of the pandemic. And then there’s “Bless Your Drunken Heart,” a hard-driving ode to the town drunk that makes apt use of the South’s favorite passive-aggressive slight and has quickly become a favorite at the band’s live shows, and “I Hope Your Heartache’s a Hit,” a swinging, swaggering tribute to a one-night-stand written by multi-instrumentalist Cory Graves.

On the deeply personal “Down and Out,” Fleming digs deep into his own experiences with loss, anxiety, and substance abuse. “I have had an odd relationship with alcohol, and I challenged myself to go one year without partaking as a personal goal,” he says. “I failed after my wife and I experienced our first miscarriage in 2019, just a week before we were supposed to head out on tour. I was a wreck emotionally, and turned to alcohol to numb the pain as I was reeling from that loss. I was up all-night writing this set of lyrics, contemplating my self-worth and describing the dark motel room that seemed like a metaphor for where I was in my life at that time.”

Taken all together, this impressive fourth album builds to what is the Vandoliers’ most cohesive effort to date without sacrificing any of the distinct identity that makes the band work as well touring alongside punkers Flogging Molly as they do opening for independent country legends the Turnpike Troubadours or Dallas rockers the Old 97s. Few bands can bring together the square toes and the steel toes quite like the Vandoliers. As its members have grown and matured, so has the sound of Vandoliers. But what remains the same, though, is the band’s core philosophy of solidarity and hope, evidenced by the motto they’ve all had tattooed on their arms: Vandoliers Forever, Forever Vandoliers.

Vandoliers are Joshua Fleming, bassist Mark Moncrieff, drummer Trey Alfaro, fiddler Travis Curry, electric guitarist Dustin Fleming, and multi-instrumentalist Cory Graves. Formed in 2015, the band released 2016’s Ameri-Kinda and 2017’s The Native on State Fair Records, and Forever(2019) on Bloodshot Records.

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