Hailing from New Orleans, where Latin and Caribbean music have a long and glorious history of interaction with R&B, blues and jazz, the band was formed in 1989 by guitarist/accordionist Rod Hodges and Joe Cabral, who alternates between saxophone and a traditional Mexican stringed instrument known as the bajo sexto. The two also share lead vocal duties. Within a few years, the current longtime lineup was assembled (bassist Rene Coman, drummer Doug Garrison and saxophonist Derek Huston) and The Iguanas emerged as one of the most popular bands in one of the world’s most musical cities.

The Iguanas haven’t forsaken their signature sound on Plastic Silver 9 Volt Heart. However, the prime elements — roots-rock, New Orleans R&B, Latin and Caribbean rhythms — were fused with a fresh jolt of inspiration during an eight-day recording session helmed by Justin Niebank, producer of 1993’s The Iguanas and 1994’s Nuevo Boogaloo. Many of the vocals are early takes, lending the tracks the raw ease of a club gig. At the same time, sophisticated songwriting and rich yet uncluttered arrangements make Plastic Silver 9 Volt Heart the band’s most mature, cohesive album to date.

Despite their well-deserved reputation as a party band non pareil, New Orleans’ Iguanas have always had a flair for melodies and lyrics as well as grooves. They ascend to a new level here with songs like the title track, a wistful R&B paean to the healing power of radio, co-written by the Iguanas’ Rod Hodges and friend Dave Alvin (of Blasters fame). The lyrics have a cinematic detail and sweep that carries through the whole album, which conjures a seductive late-night atmosphere while often hinting at the grim, corrupt side of nightlife.

“The Liquor Dance” has a delightful melody and tipsy, border-town giddiness that’s almost as sinister as lyrics such as “You look just like a movie star — with your face down on the bar.” The murky ballad “Abandonado,” sung entirely in Spanish, sounds as lonely as downtown at 3 a.m., while the rowdy “Zacatecas” could be any hour in the kind of dive whose denizens never see sunlight. The infectious “I Dig You,” straddling the line between garage-rock and psychedelia, finds that moment when last call leads to improbable professions of affection: “I dig you — all the way to China.”

The complexity of the arrangements, which sneak in everything from train whistles to mellotron, echoes the multiple levels of meaning in the songs. “Un Avion,” featuring the Iguanas’ trademark twin-saxophone approach to Chicano R&B, begins with the simple image of a child watching a plane, but the minor-key setting and tense arrangement undermine the innocence of the question: “A donde va” — “Where is it going?”

Shadows haunt both the nonchalant, ‘60s-leaning “Yesterday,” with its catchy “na-na-na-na” chorus, and the torrid, Spanish and English “Mexican Candy.” The R&B rocker “Flame On” is relentlessly up tempo, with the exuberance of a reveler just starting to realizing that that last drink was one too many.

The nearly hour-long Plastic Silver 9-Volt Heart ends on a note of wrenching ambivalence with the ballad “Goodbye Again,” a fitting conclusion for an album offering love and death, joy and emptiness, resignation and transcendence, if not in equal measure, then in uniquely potent proportions.

THE IGUANAS ARE (L-R):
RENE COMAN: bass, piano, organ, guitar, mellotron, background vocals, tambourine
DEREK HUSTON: tenor sax
ROD HODGES: vocals, guitar, accordion, lap steel
DOUG GARRISON: drums, percussion
JOE CABRAL: vocals, sax, bajo sexto, guitar, organ, percussion.