De Ayer Para Siempre

Don't put this on first thing in the morning (like I did), especially if you're nursing, say, a tequila hangover (which I wasn't, honest). Nor is it music for the background while you're working or daydreaming of an afternoon. Rousing and as ripe and ruddy as a chilli pepper, there's nothing subtle or especially sophisticated about Mariachi Los Camperos, notwithstanding the Smithsonian Folkways label (and impressively academic 40-page booklet) or the multiple Grammy awards and nominations.

Founded in 1961 by late mariachi legend Nati Cano, the LA-based 13-piece band deliver classic sones, rancheras and boleros in a highly polished, slickly produced package. Vocal performances are unashamedly swooning (Raúl Cuéllar, in particular, was made for amorous balcony serenading). Brass is simultaneously plaintive and punchy, ie quintessentially Mexican. The various guitars, vihuela and guitarrón are tunefully plucked and picked but never really get much louder than the harp, which leads on the more lush love songs. In short, this is an album of well-wrought standards, building on Los Camperos' legacy work. There's irony, sure, but you'll need the Spanish and perhaps a grasp of Mexicanidad to get it. If this sound is not for the morning or afternoon, when is it for? The night, obviously, but mariachi is social, ideally open-air music, when rousing it can shift up a gear to riotous. With its rather tidy male choruses, taut tones and MoR treatments, this release will appeal mainly to aficionados and expat Mexicans.