Hacienda Brothers

05.06.2005 -- Review by: Dan Carlson

Reviewed by Daniel Carlson

Don’t be fooled by the cover image of the latest self-titled release from the Hacienda Brothers: these guys are old school. The grainy black-and-white image of frontmen Chris Gaffney and Dave Gonzalez, in shades and hipster-country shirts, makes them look like Big ’n’ Rich’s cool older bothers, but a glance at the photo inside shows them to be more like the Texas Troubadours in style, and it comes across in their sound. The Hacienda Brothers play classic country-rock, driven by steel guitars and cruel women, and they sell it so well because they seem to genuinely believe in the music they’re making. Country isn’t a fad or experiment for this band; it’s a way of life.

The opening strum of the first track, “She’s Gone,” pulled me right in, a soothing reminder of the honest music at the base of so many pop-country acts today. Chris Gaffney’s strong baritone poured out of my speakers: “My heart is lonesome as can be / the sun no longer shines for me….” It’s a simple song and the perfect one to open the album: the whole thing begs to be listened to on a screened-in porch with a six-pack in July.

Because of that, the best songs on the album are the ones closest to the pure sound you’d expect from men wearing long skinny bowties and elaborately decorated jackets. Produced by legendary Southern soul guru Dan Penn, the album is full of songs about heartache, missed love, and having a good time: you know, country stuff.

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The Hacienda Brothers are at their best when they don’t sound like they’re trying to be somebody else. The album’s biggest misstep is “Looking for Loneliness,” a forced R&B trip with horns and a waw-waw pedal. Penn’s soul upbringing comes through loud and clear, but it’s a too-odd contrast to the rest of the disc’s tracks, lyrically and stylistically. The album soars when Penn’s influence is toned down and the Brothers let loose in classic Opry fashion.

The songs are often lyrically true to old school country, too, and that means some pretty saccharine love songs. “I’m So Proud” is about how proud the singer is to be “her man,” and it comes off too trite to pack any real emotional power. But they dig a little deeper in “Seven Little Numbers,” in which the singer regrets ever getting the phone number of the woman who “turned [his] world around,” and “South of Lonesome” is a wistful but upbeat number that reminded me of “Streets of Bakersfield.” On the whole, it’s miles better than anything mainstream Nashville is churning out these days.

The Hacienda Brothers are heading in the right direction, and if they steer clear of the syrup and clunky experiments in sound, they could become one of the greatest honky-tonk groups we’ve seen in a long time.