Mariachi El Bronx is no simple side project, no afterthought. The off-shoot of long-running LA hardcore outfit the Bronx may have started under the guise of a secondary passion undertaking, but by now—with four albums to their name, critical acclaim, headlining shows, and a branch of fandom that exists entirely apart from their usual punk domain—what Mariachi El Bronx embodies is a bad-ass band paying tribute to the émigré Latin culture they were immersed in from an early age.

After a hushed decade, the collective are back with all the cheeky melancholy, corrido abandon, and lovelorn pleas that the genre revels in. Mariachi El Bronx IV plays like an elaborate mood piece with its downhearted songs that coax you to dance. Over swaggering melodic guitar progressions, accordion, string, and brass flourishes punctuate these swaying tunes like embroidery on a pair of charro trousers.

Whether listened to in one sitting or in song-long bursts, IV coasts and cruises through literary tales of those who are down and out. On “El Borracho,” they pen a swinging lament and celebration of the local drunk. On “Gambler’s Prayer,” lead singer Matt Caughtran breaks into an insolent spoken-word plea to lost souls. And on closer “Into the Afterlife,” the band ponders mortality and the unknown over swelling horns.

With another collection of ballads that smirk through weeping eyes, Mariachi El Bronx once again prove that what once looked like a winking one-off has evolved into something far more enduring.