Artist:     The Cruzados

Album:     She’s Automatic

Label:     Scamco

Release Date:     8.13.21

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Dirty, gritty and hot, baked in the Los Angeles sun and tattooed with the words “born to raise hell,” the driving, Chicano-flavored rock ‘n roll of The Cruzados roars back to life with the bluesy sizzle of She’s Automatic, their first release in 30 years. 1987’s After Dark and their self-titled debut, all on Arista Records, are its lost predecessors.

Resurrected with pandemic-induced urgency by bassist/co-writer Tony Marsico, once a member of Latino punk legends The Plugz, who essentially morphed into the buzzed-about Cruzados, they disbanded prematurely, feeling the all-too-familiar crush of vices, industry demands and lofty expectations. The last sighting for many was their appearance in the 1989 cult cinematic bar brawl “Roadhouse.”

Now, the revamped Cruzados, as tough as ever, bear more than a passing resemblance to ‘80s L.A. hard-rock pals Little Caesar, with grizzled singer Ron Young and guitarists Loren Molinare and Mark Tremalgia in the fold, along with drummer Ron Klonel, a Little Caesar co-conspirator. Reinforcements arrive in the form of Los Lobos’ David Hidalgo and Steve Berlin, X’s John Doe, The Blasters’ Dave Alvin, and Melanie Vannem, of The Muffs and The Pandoras, to flesh out these wild recordings, with the sultry, psychedelic garage-rock of “Nine Million Years” colored by Vannem’s simmering, swirling organ, Hidalgo’s swinging accordion adding fuel to the rockabilly fire of “Let Me Down” and Berlin’s baritone saxophone deeply infiltrating the woozy drawl of “54 Knockouts.”

Passionate desire, heartbreak, wary optimism, and deserted haunts are the stuff of She’s Automatic lyrics, the LP a tribute to deceased Cruzados Marshall Rohner, who died in 2005, and Chalo “Charlie” Quintana, who passed away in 2018. Searing guitars churn and burn, offering up the occasional slide whinny, as solid riffs plow forward and radiate heat, like in the languorous, sweltering “On a Tilt A Whirl.” Then, they shift into overdrive in the revved-up title track after it shakes and rumbles excitedly like Bo Diddley’s “Who Do You Love?” Flexing their muscles, The Cruzados stomp through “Son of the Blues” with steel-toed boots and get “Wing and a Prayer” jumping, but they also cry in the soft, summery rain of the wistful, Stones-y ballad “Sad Sadie” and let a stretched-out “Long Black Car,” co-written by Rick Vito, smolder mysteriously. If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve found it.

—Peter Lindblad