When The Bronx' Matt Caughthran slips on the nudie suit, he slides into the philosophical frame of mind of an old man who's seen it all and who is still liable to have a night where he drinks too damned much and forgets everything he's learned about love, making some of the same foolish mistakes that he's made many times before.
When he and the rest of his bandmates transform into Mariachi El Bronx, the passionate songs of any heart's loss or gain become spicy embers that are kicked up by boots and spurs, sounding like rattlesnakes and tequila shots. They carry with them the sage advice and the stone cold determinations of men who have been made to look silly around the pressure and the strain of love. They've given up on it, knowing they won't be able to stay away for long. They've wondered about its confounding hesitations and misdirections.
Caughthran here introduces the song, "Litigation," in a way that makes the bewilderment that love offers as punishment or perverse insight seem to be a living, breathing thing - something that needs its own seat on an airplane. He says, "This next little number goes out to the confusion of love."
It's that very confusion that gives this Los Angeles band all the fuel it needs to provide the soundtrack for a dimly lit evening that's still sprinkled with the kind of starry sky, flecked with a voluminous white moon that's practically bursting with hope. These are men who have been blinded by love and they've always been at the mercy of this invisible little devil. They've said to hell with it and yet they find themselves asking it for another slow dance before they even realize what they're doing. They give up and they give in, with the reckless lover Caughthran singing, "I can fall back in love when I'm older," speaking for us all.