It’s a blistering summer weekend. Cake, Morphine and a Prozac-mainlining Nick Cave pile into a convertible El Camino (suspend your disbelief, please), gas up and hit the American highway—bound for Mexico—speeding, out-of-control and sipping warm, smoky mescal the whole way. A few hours after barreling across the border, the liquored-up road-trippers have a chance run-in with War and Carlos Santana at a taquería in Baja California. Tired from the journey, but with more than a little mojo still coursing through their booze-soaked veins, the motley crew piles haphazardly into a local recording studio. Sadly, this collaboration-to-end-all-collaborations never happened. But in doing their part to make this world a more perfect place, New Orleans party-rock veterans, The Iguanas, have laid down a classic, mellow, red-orange-sunlight-cascading-on-the-pacific-horizon album of Latin-flavored pop that sounds as close to the freakish aforementioned scenario as can possibly be imagined. Sung partly in Spanish and partly in English, Plastic Silver 9 Volt Heart is a feel-good record bustling with smooth horn work, slinky guitar, bouncing bass lines and enough percussive nuance to shake-down a Mardi-Gras street procession. “Machete y Maiz,” “Zacatecas” and “9 Volt Heart” are standouts, but the whole affair is solid, with danceable numbers that work just as well for kicking back poolside as they do for driving through the desert. Some music, at its best, has a way of transcending differences, tearing down the walls that divide us. The Iguanas kick out the jams, celebrating this tradition—and everyone’s invited.