The music created by Los Lonely Boys – brothers Henry, Jojo, and Ringo Garza – is an amalgam resulting from a deeply musical upbringing fostered by boundless influences. Combining elements of rock, Texas blues, brown-eyed soul, country, and tejano, they call it “Texican rock and roll,” its sound the product of three lifetimes spent playing together and developing a language that uses no words but is, as Jojo says, “…built through vibrations and sound.”
“We can look at each other and not say anything, because we instinctively know where we’re going,” adds Ringo. “It’s hard to explain. Real blood is thicker than music.”
Raised in San Angelo, Texas, their father, Ringo Garza, Sr., also grew up in a sibling band, the Falcones, playing conjunto music all over Texas in the ’70s and ’80s. After they split, he went solo, backed by his three sons, none of whom had yet reached their teens. In the ’90s, they moved to Nashville, where the sons eventually stepped out on their own; their first album was recorded at Willie Nelson’s Pedernales Studio, in Austin.
In 2024, the band is simultaneously marking the 20th anniversary of that debut (which reached double-platinum status and yielded the Grammy-winning hit single “Heaven”) while also celebrating a new album, Resurrection, its title symbolic in more ways than one.
“That’s what we feel has happened, that we’ve been resurrected as a unit, as brothers, as a family doing music and hoping to continue the legacy,” said Henry Garza of its timing. “I think everything is written in the stars and the heavens above. We never expected any of the success we’ve experienced – we had zero expectations – so when it happened, it was pretty overwhelming. The music business can drain you.”
The Garzas have paid the toll brought about by creating, recording, and touring; in 2010, doctors discovered lesions on Jojo’s vocal cords, causing the band to cancel concerts in the U.S., Canada, and Europe. Then, after a show in February of 2013, Henry was on his way to shake hands with fans when he fell 12 feet from the dark front edge of a stage into the orchestra pit, suffering a fractured neck along with herniated discs. In 2019, they collectively stepped away from music. Then came the pandemic. They returned in May of ’22, prompted by an invitation to open shows for The Who.
We caught up to Henry Garza after he’d returned home from Austin, where their father was beginning recovery after simultaneously suffering a stroke and heart attack. They were on a tour stop in Cleveland when he was stricken, and dropped everything to be with him, which meant cancelling a handful of East Coast dates.
Inspired by his “teachers” – SRV, B.B. King, Clapton, Cesar Rosas, David Hidalgo, Chuck Berry – the 41-year-old describes his own playing style in lyrical terms rather than comparing tones or licks. Primarily a Strat guy (strung .013 to .054 with an unwound G), he’ll also grab a 335 or anything else that quells his curiosity. Through the years, his road rig has consisted of blackface Twin Reverb reissues and a Marshall JCM2000, running through reissue Ibanez TS-9s and a Vox wah, with a Leslie speaker or Echoplex sometimes adding spice.
Our conversation started at his beginnings.
When did you start playing an instrument?
I picked up guitar and wrote my first song when I was four years old. It was called, “She Left Me” (laughs). It was about a girl, even though I’d had nothing to do with girls (laughs). That was the sheer influence of our father. I was wanting to be like him, and every song he showed us, from “La Bamba” to the Beatles, was about a girl. I played it with this little bitty classical guitar dad had gotten me, with colored dots on the fretboard and numbers under the frets. I remember it well.
We tell people all the time about how, as kids, we thought Dad wrote all the songs that he was showing us – “She Loves You, “Help!” “Long Tall Texan,” “Johnny B. Goode,” “Kansas City.” We’d hear them on the radio and we tell him, “Hey, they’re playing your song, Daddy!” And he wouldn’t deny it (laughs).
But yeah, music was very normal and natural in our family, and everybody picked up a guitar, accordion, bajo sexto, or drums, and they sang. And that was on both sides – mom’s and dad’s. As soon as Jojo was old enough to pick up a guitar, he started playing. He’s left-handed but learned to play righty.
How about Ringo?
Ringo was destined from birth, man (laughs) – he was going to be a drummer! Had no choice. As a kid, he was a hyper little dude – the one who jumped on the trampoline and did flips. When we started to play with Dad, he sat Ringo at the drums and he took to it like a duck to water. Dad was doing rhythm guitar and I was doing leads, so Jojo said, “Well, I guess I’m playing bass,” and he became a monster at it. He’s a great guitarist as well. He can jam.
How old were you when you started backing your dad?
I think Ringo was seven, so Jojo was nine and I was 10.
What sort of gigs did you play?
We were doing gigs around San Angelo, playing all the little bars we could and passing the hat, tip jar, and guitar case (laughs).
Do you remember some of the songs you were playing?
Oh yeah! We played everything from Willie and Waylon to The Beatles, Fats Domino to Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley tunes, every Top 40 country tune you could think of, and Mexican music. We were a little Mexican-American family jukebox.
What was your guitar back then?
I had a Kalamazoo, a Harmony, an Applause acoustic that I played that like a lead guitar, plugged into Boss pedals (laughs).
I was playing whatever my dad could pick up at a pawn shop or borrow from a friend. It was always a cheap guitar. The first electric I considered mine was a Silvertone amp-in-case.
Did it play pretty well? Was it comfortable?
It was like the perfect size for me – had a short-scale neck and the white tape around the body, the lipstick pickup. I played the crap out of that guitar and learned a lot of things on it.
How long did you guys back your dad?
We played with Dad ’til I was 18, Jojo was 17, and Ringo was 15. We started doing our own thing because Dad always taught us to believe that the sky’s the limit.
What do you recall about your first gig?
The first show we did was in a place in Atlanta called Jocks and Jills, and we were terrified. Dad was the front guy who always spoke on the mic and was really good at it. But we never spoke, so we were crapping our pants onstage, trying to figure out what to say and what to play (laughs). We just kind of winged it. I remember being super-nervous.
That was right after my first son passed away from SIDS. I had just turned 18, and Dad always told me, “Son, make that guitar cry!” I was always trying to do that, but it wasn’t until I went through that that I really had a real reason to make that thing cry. That guitar became the outlet for my emotional pain. It really saved me. Of course it was family first, man, but the guitar… she means a lot to me because she saved me from a lot of bad, ugly, dark things. From that point on, I put everything I had of my soul and my life force into the guitar.
Were you writing songs at the time?
Yeah, it was always a natural thing. Sometimes I would write a whole one, and sometimes me and Jojo would get together and write one, or it could be me, Jojo, and Ringo. Dad and Mom would even get involved. It was something we did as a family.
Did you have a full set of original music, or were you mixing in covers?
We were mixing in stuff that we knew growing up – “Johnny B. Goode” “La Bamba,” “Voodoo Chile,” “Pride and Joy” and any blues we could do.
We eventually got the itch to present our own take on our influences and write songs that injected our culture. With my guitar playing, I always try to incorporate my heritage and culture. There’s a lot of bajo sexto chords and timing things we’ve always done naturally. We had to make a point with our music and do something that was from us but at the same time paid homage to our teachers – Stevie to Ritchie to Stevie Wonder, along with Ronnie Milsap, Mel Tillis, Willie Nelson. We’re just students of the trade, trying to pass it on. Really, we were just trying to be like Dad. It was his dream to do what we’re doing. He fell in love with country music and Elvis Presley, and started playing guitar when he was eight years old. He wanted to be those guys, and we wanted to be like him and make him proud. That’s where it all comes from, and that’s what we were trying to be as we found ourselves and our sound.
There’s a bittersweet story behind your first hit.
Yeah, “Heaven” wasn’t intended to be a song. A year or so after I’d lost my son, I was still going through a tough time. I remember being on my knees, praying, and it was like a bolt of lightning hit me. The man upstairs told me, “Write this down!” So I did. Of course I didn’t know it was going to become what it did. To me, it’s one of the world’s loudest prayers, and it still gets played quite a bit.
I can’t take credit for anything that has happened in our lives. To me, it feels like a movie. It’s unreal, being Mexican-American, coming from a very poor lifestyle to experience any form of success. The tragedies and trials we’ve been through as a family and as individuals… it has just been crazy.
Musicians who play with family know about “blood harmony” and how siblings communicate differently than most other musicians, especially onstage.
I believe in that, but also there’s something in the water and the air and the dirt in the great state of Texas. From Buddy Holly to Stevie Ray to Willie Nelson, a lot of cats have this instinct for music.
What does your guitar style draw from your teachers?
I tried to learn everything growing up, so when I’m up there playing, without thinking about it, I’m trying my best to mimic Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray, Chuck Berry, and a lot of country guitarists I didn’t even know the names of when I started. I’m trying to sound like Carlos Santana when I’m going in that direction. When you practice so much, it starts to become what Bruce Lee called “unnatural naturalness,” which is a mix of instinct and control working in harmony. Things hit all by themselves. And I think that’s what all musicians and all artists do. Music is definitely like that, and I give all credit to all my teachers, and pay homage to them. I hope people hear that in my playing.
Are you a Strat guy because of any certain player?
Yeah, the first person that I saw playing a Strat was Ritchie Valens, and I felt a connection with that cat growing up because he was Mexican-American and played rock and roll in Spanish. I remember Lou Diamond Phillips in La Bamba, with the sunburst Strat. I wanted one so bad. But of course there was no way I could afford a Strat.
I believe every guitar has its place, and now I play anything from a Gretsch to a Gibson 335 to a Tele to Strat. I’ve always loved the versatility in a Strat; you can’t make all the other guitars sound like a Strat, but a Strat can sound like all the other guitars. That’s what I love about it.
When did you get your first Strat?
Let me see… it was my fourteenth or fifteenth birthday. We were living in Lubbock at that time and I remember coming home from school and finding one laying on my bed. I walked in and, man, I was just in tears. She was Candy Apple Red, so I thought, “Oh, her name was Candy!” I always name my guitars. But I think it was just a Mexico Strat; all my Strats seemed to be Mexico Strats. And I do what all Mexicans do with our cars – we customize ’em a little bit, put some hydraulics on it, paint job, different guts and everything (laughs).
What do you normally do to dress them up?
Well, I used to change the necks; I’d put jumbo frets on them, some heavy pickups – I like good, thick-sounding pickups; I’m a big Texas Special guy. But yeah, I’d pull things apart and put ’em back together, even though I didn’t know what the hell I was doing (laughs), and I’d have to take them to Ish Flores, who’s been my guitar doctor for 20-plus years.
What’s your preferred neck shape?
Oh, I love a big fat neck from the late-’60s – ’67, ’68. Round and fat is my go-to and there was a time when I always tried to get a specific thing, but I’ve learned to appreciate all of ’em.
What inspires the names of your guitars?
The guitar itself, and I usually name a guitar right away when I first see it. My number one is Tejana, which means “Texas woman.” I also have Pink, one called Blue Haven, one called Marilyn that’s a white Strat with lipstick pickups. I have Candy, and I have one named after my wife, Roxy. Amber has a tiger-stripe flamed top with a beautiful amber finish.
Why did you all decide to step away from the business in 2019?
It’s crazy, from the time I was 18 all the way up until then, we hadn’t had a break our whole lives. It was pedal to the metal, giving it all we got in the music business. Covid was spooky, and what was mostly a curse was also, for us, a blessing because we’d never had time like that – ever – to just sit and reflect.
I think back about how we’d been playing and playing and playing and playing, not really knowing what was going on. It was like we were zombies. I jammed with Carlos Santana? No way, man. I jammed with Dickey Betts? No way. I jammed with Willie Nelson? No way, man. But we did all these things with our heroes. It was a crazy, crazy ride.
Let’s dig into the new album, Resurrection.
I love the record and really enjoyed doing it, getting to express myself and the influences I love.
How did the songs come together?
For us, each song is like a baby being born. I’ll start one then Jojo and I will sit down and finish something. Some of the songs on Resurrection were in the vault for years; “Natural Thing” has been around at least 20 years and we brought it to life with Ringo singing. Some of the songs I’d started and showed Jojo and he was like, “Yeah, this will work great,” and he’d throw some changes in it. Our process is just a bouncing-off-each-other kind of thing.
Everybody does everything.
Yeah, and we credit each other even if one of us only adds one word to a lyric, because we do it collectively out of our love and respect for each other. Yes, sometimes I’ll write a song and my brothers will come over and want to change the hell out of it (laughs), but sometimes Jojo will write a song and I’ll want to change the hell out of it. Sometimes we’ll just put the music to it and it just works.
You mentioned that is the first time you used your own studio…
Through Covid, we were able to put one together and get a little tech savvy. We have 16 channels of Rupert Neve preamps, Pro Tools, of course. There’s so much at your fingertips now versus tape, man.
Are there a few songs that you listen to more often because you especially dig the guitar parts – solos, or melodies?
“Can’t Get No Love” is a cool one because my playing mixes things I learned from Vince Gill, Mark Knopfler, Stevie, and Chet Atkins. I like the solo.
I’ve listened to “Natural Thing” over and over because it came to fruition after so long. It’s a beautiful song and I love hearing Ringo sing it. My oldest son, who is also a guitar player, watched me doing the solo. I was tearing up, crying, and I looked at him and he was tearing up. Every time I hear that song, I get this mental picture of him looking at me with tears in his eyes, telling me “That’s the one, Daddy.”
There are other songs on the record that do that for me. And all the solos have special meaning; I know where I was, what was going on in the studio with my brothers. It hits, and there’s a real emotional connection.
I don’t read music or really write things. I sit and hit “Go” and then try to find something. Sometimes it’ll take forever and I’ll have to take a break then come back and give it another go. Everything is based on feel and hearing a moment in time. That’s one thing I hate about recording – trying to capture a spontaneous moment, and it’s hard to catch or put it on right, you know? It’s hard to just capture it. “That’s the take.” Sometimes it’ll happen. On our first record we did the instrumental in one take.
But when you have the access to your own studio, you don’t feel so much pressure over paying thousands of dollars for every hour. So there’s a lot of comfort.
Talk about “I Let You Think That You Do,” which is one of the harder-rocking songs, with that shuffle and some kick-ass slide playing.
That came from just sitting around, jamming. I was actually working a different song when that one was born. I was like, “This sounds cool! I’ve just got to think of something cool to say.”
I’ve always wanted to experiment more with slide, and having our studio let me do that. The slide is a bit back in the mix, but it’s got all the influence of Johnny Winter and Stevie Ray in there. I’m a big George Harrison slide fan, man; I love his slide playing, and I incorporated a lot of that on this record.
I believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and while writing it, I thought about Jesus singing: “Hey, I let you think that you do. Ain’t no refusing me.” That’s where it was going, but it could also be about speaking to a woman, saying, “You ain’t fooling me. You try, but you lose.” So I thought it was cool. The song has a great bluesy feel and I loved when Jojo put bass to it. The part where it goes to the solo has this Hendrix vibe that reminds me of “Highway Chile.” Writing it, I had that in mind. It’s just a fun song and adds what we call “Texican rock and roll.”
How did the groove come together for “See Your Face”?
That’s a story and a half. I remember sitting in my bedroom; I had the window open and I was thinking of my son who passed away. He lived for five months, so I have a pretty good memory of his face and his smile. I was thinking about him, but also thinking about Mom (Ed note: their mother passed away in 2017). I wanted to say something about how you don’t want to forget someone. You know how when you miss somebody for so long you sometimes forget what they look like? But then a memory can pop up and you get to see ’em again… but you’re not in control of the memory, and something else comes in and you kind of hate that. We wish we could keep it there forever or have control of it
With the riff, I was going from a Spanishy/Mexican kind of feel, and I started playing the opening on an acoustic.
That’s one of the songs where Jojo showed up and was like, “Man, let’s finish that sucker!” And he added all the “Take me, take me back home.” Because that’s what memories do – they take us to a place that we remember and love and wish we were still there. That’s the cool thing about memories – you’re going down memory lane and you don’t want to get off.
How about “Dance With Me”? That lead break has a different sound and feel.
That’s Jojo letting loose on that solo! We let him take a bit of the guitar work on that song so people could hear his style. And I love it. He did a great job and I can only take credit for hopefully being somewhat of an inspiration. He tells me, “I was trying to play what you play, bro!”
I love for people to know that my brothers can be versatile, so nobody can say, “He’s just a bass player” or “He’s just the drummer,” which is why we gave Ringo a lead vocal. “Natural Thing” is him singing his heart out. It’s fun, and it feels good.
Which guitars did you use on the album?
I used my main Strat, my blue Gretsch, my 335, and a Tele. I was digging the different pickups.
Are there any vintage instruments in your studio?
The only thing that I do have that’s vintage is one my brother gave me – a Silvertone 1448 amp in case, because I lost my first one years ago. I have a ’77 Telecaster and a ’78 Telecaster that were given to me.
I’ve never had enough money to spend on a vintage guitar versus spending it on diapers (laughs). Maybe in the near future one will fall in my lap somehow, but I’m happy with what I have.
Which amplifiers do we hear most on the record?
It’s a Fender Blues Junior III with just a 10″ speaker. And man, like I said, I was able to have my hands on our own studio and I experimented with microphones and placement. On some tracks, I used four mics – two boom mics, a Shure SM7 right above it, and of course I had the classic SM57 right on the cone of the speaker.
Through the years, I’d usually go big in the studio. I’ve used my Marshall cabinet with four 12s and my two Fender Twins, but for this record I was able to work with just this little tube amp and make it sound like 10 billion bucks. I had fun trying to achieve that. Basically, you’re hearing just that.
It sounds very cool.
Yeah, I had fun doing it. When you start learning the recording process, you see that it’s not so much about having your full rig, it’s about microphones and mic placement. That’s what you’ve got to play around with when it comes to recording. I didn’t know that growing up. I was always trying to set up a wall of amps like Carlos Santana and Stevie Ray. I was like, “I got to have this, I got to have that.” But with today’s technology and mics, I can make a Pignose sound like it’ll fill Wrigley Field (laughs), which is really fun to do. It’s really neat to share with the world.
Are you getting set to go back on the road?
Yeah, we’re doing a Brotherhood tour with Los Lobos again, starting on the West Coast. We’re going to keep playing and letting people know that Los Lonely Boys are still around. The name of the record is Resurrection. That’s what we feel has happened – that we’ve been resurrected as a unit, as brothers, as a family doing music and hoping to continue the legacy.
Los Lonely Boys
Resurrection
After an 11-year hiatus, the Grammy-winning Texican trio returns with a new album and a renewed sense of purpose. Resurrection finds the brothers Garza again leaning into Tejano-infused soul, blues, rock, and uplifting pop. Drummer Ringo, bassist Jojo, and Henry on guitar and lead vocals, have matured and evolved, creating a sound that is familiar and fresh. Ear-friendly snatches of SRV, Santana, and The Beatles can be heard throughout, but the trio’s homegrown family style yields excellent songs.
Tantalizing grooves, catchy hooks, and badass blues licks permeate – add to this resonant lyrics that inspire and uplift. “See Your Face” is about remembering those who have moved on spiritually or geographically. The groove is funky and hypnotic as the rhythm section digs deep against bodacious Strat tones and Texas attitude. “I Let You Think That You Do” is guaranteed to be a festival favorite with its blues-rock snarl and relentless Southwest shuffle. Henry is unchained with excellent slide playing. On “Dance With Me,” the stylistic diversity continues with this romantic dance cut and Santana-style guitar phrasing by way of San Angelo, Texas. Henry plays for the song with a less-is-more approach that favors satisfying taste and guitar tones over fretboard excess. “Wish You Would” is an on-the-nose positive-message ditty. The sentiment is, “Be careful what you wish for. There could be a false light, and we don’t want you to get hurt.” With contemporary pop radio airplay in mind, it features an upper-atmospheric vocal line, sugary-sweet vocal harmonies, and a slide guitar solo that hits all the right spots.
Resurrection marks a strong return for the band. In a world of airtight musical branding, Los Lonely Boys’ sincere blend of blues, pop, soul, and Latino roots music is a welcome return to the music world.
This article originally appeared in VG’s September 2024 issue. All copyrights are by the author and Vintage Guitar magazine. Unauthorized replication or use is strictly prohibited.
