This came out in 2003 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Self-titled albums by veteran bands make me nervous — mainly because they are usually accompanied by annoying phrases like “creative rebirth.”
Thankfully, you don’t have to listen to any of that twaddle about The Mavericks’ latest eponymous effort. On their first studio disc since 1998’s Trampoline, the boys don’t try to fix what wasn’t broken. Singer-songwriter and frontman Raul Malo still possesses those rich, soaring, Orbisonian pipes. He still wields them with tremendous grace and skill. Behind him, the guitars still twang like a spaghetti western soundtrack, the grooves are still lightly spiced with Tex-Mex flavours, and the boys are still capable of handling everything from gritty blues and boogie to country waltzes and sweeping orchestral pop. Sure, this 11-cut disc might be a little more textured and commercial than their older material, but by any name, it’s a keeper.