Pasaporte, the third release from Dallas' Lost Immigrants, is a pleasant, completely listenable album that fans of well-written country rock will quickly hoist their beers to. But that isn't to say that this disc is much of a statement, or that it will propel the band into the vanguard of the red dirt scene.
The group, crowned champions of the Shiner Rising Star battle a few years ago after only being together for a very short time, has spent the last few years ably crafting tunes that fit snuggly into the now barely bubbling and creatively stagnant cauldron that is the Texas country sub-genre.
Sure, much worse can be said about an album than deeming it "really solid," and indeed, there are some successes that tend to set it apart from other regional releases: The sprightly, sawdust-kicking "Goodbye Seoul" and "Abilene" inject some much-missed country into, you know, Texas country; and the bluesy smoke of "Genevieve" helps the record sprout a bit of manly, swarthy hair on its metaphorical chest, even. Over the course of the record, though, it's clear that James Dunning and crew have descended upon a safe, comfortable bend in the river in which to wade, opting to not attempt the cannonball jump into deeper, more dangerous waters, which might, in turn, possibly provide a greater thrill.
