Mac Gollehon & The Hispanic Mechanics : Pistoleros Review

by Steven Miller

Mac Gollehon has always been a formidable force as a trumpet player. He’s a brass mercenary, a sound-weaver whose horn has burned through sessions with Bowie, Madonna, Grace Jones, Nile Rodgers, and Hector Lavoe. If there’s a sound that needs cutting through the mix, Gollehon is the guy they called. With Pistoleros, his latest with Nefarious Industries, he combines the pop dance gloss with the high energy of electric jazz. It dives headfirst into a sonic street fight: part Latin-jazz fever dream, part electronic shootout, part gangster flick. This is an album with a cinematic ride where every note hits like a weapon, every groove like a backroom deal, and every solo like a gun drawn at the poker table.

The cast is small but lethal. Gollehon doesn’t just blow trumpet, he layers trombone, tuba, vocals, keys, and guitars, a one-man brass armory with six shooters in every pocket. He’s backed by percussionists Anthony Carrillo and Elvis Ferrara, who keep the Afro-Caribbean pulse simmering. Greg Meisenberg holds down the drum, bass, and guitar roles, giving grit and glue to the framework. And David Brenner of Gridfailure adds sound effects that swirl like smoke and menace in a neon-lit alley. Together, they score a movie that only Gollehon could direct.

“Pistoleros” fires the first shot, and it’s not subtle. It opens with ascending synths and effected trumpet that spotlights a rising energy for a cinematic showdown. Carrillo’s percussion locks in a relentless Latin-jazz groove. Gollehon’s trumpet enters like a leading man, drenched in reverb, streaked with delay, yet still cutting sharp and emotive. The main theme is rhythm-driven, a swaggering motif that builds momentum until Gollehon’s solo rips open the street. His horn dances across electronic textures, shifts into rock-inflected energy, and then drives straight into a fusion climax. You hear electronica, jazz fusion, electric jazz, pop, rock, and hip-hop; all colliding, all refracted through his brass. By the end, you realize this isn’t just a tune. It’s an overture.

“Stud Poker” throws you directly into the smoke-filled backroom. Gollehon’s trumpet lays down lines as thick as the tension in the air, while Ferrara’s and Carrillo’s percussion peppers the groove with accents that bring the heat. Gollehon’s trumpet moves slyly, phrasing in short bursts before expanding into long, lyrical arcs. The push-and-pull between brass lines and percussive chatter mirrors the bluff and counter-bluff of a card table. If “Pistoleros” is the gunfight, “Stud Poker” is the setup: the room where everyone’s hiding their cards but nobody blinks.

Co-written with producer David Maurice, “Sign It” carries a darker, more electronic weight. Brenner’s effects take the foreground, splattering textures that sound like wires sparking and neon buzzing. Over this industrial canvas, synths and Meisenberg’s drums and bass anchor the rhythm with industrial undercurrents, grounding the chaos. Gollehon layers muted trumpet phrases against broad keyboard swells, a study in contrast as breath against machine, warmth against circuitry. The result is a track that is the soundtrack to a scene where an underworld contract is being signed in blood. Dangerous, stylish, and unforgettable.

Gollehon winks at his own reputation while simultaneously pushing it into new territory with “Mac Attack.” The groove builds slowly, part rock, part pop, and part electric jazz. Mac’s trumpet climbs to the front with his unmistakable personality glaring through. His playing is playful and expressive, sometimes teasing, sometimes snarling, always alive. The effects on his horn add a kaleidoscopic edge, making the notes shimmer and crackle. Meisenberg steps into the spotlight with a guitar line that’s instantly catchy, a hook inside the chaos. Meanwhile, Brenner’s sound effects dart in and out, shadowing Gollehon’s trumpet with electronic echoes. The interplay between acoustic brass and synthetic color makes “Mac Attack” one of the album’s defining moments as a track where electric jazz proves it can still dance in the digital storm.

 Named like a character from a Scorsese script, “Vinny ‘Bay Parkway Snake” oozes street tension. The intervals are close, edgy, like alleyways too narrow to pass without brushing danger. Gollehon’s melody flows with grace but never loses its edge, threading through swells of synth and flashes of guitar color. Percussion adds the nervous rattle of footsteps on pavement, while Brenner’s effects turn the background into a full city soundscape. The track builds to a climax with trumpet wailing textures swelling before collapsing back into its own shadow of where it started. It’s a song that paints a scene, one with a character you shouldn’t cross.

Gollehon has always known how to pay tribute while flipping the script. On “Killer Joe ‘Zillionario,” he takes the lineage of “Killer Joe” and reimagines it with the bravado of a zillionaire hustler. Meisneberg’s drums provide the push, and Ferrara’s light-spoken words fuse with the electronic interplay, turning the groove into a rolling street parade. Mac’s horn, however, makes it personal with its declarative lines that ride the electronic undercurrents. It’s a blend of the old-school and the hyper-modern, a reminder that Gollehon’s roots in jazz standards still fuel his most radical experiments.

This track honors a cultural powerhouse, “Atiba ‘SideEye’ Powers,” and the sound matches the stature. The groove is broad, expansive, with Meisenberg’s bass anchoring the floor like granite. Gollehon stretches out here, unfurling long trumpet lines that shimmer with lyricism before cutting back with sharp staccato bursts. The synths add weight, and the effects echo like street processions. The music unfolds, Gollehon’s trumpet like an unseen narrator, placing the music in shifting environments and adding context. The cast are club, street, backroom, and dream. It’s a scene in sound, as layered and complex as the man it honors.

The album closes with triumph in “Stracked Deck.” From the opening glitch textures and pulsing synth rhythm, it feels like a victory scene at the end of a long journey. The energy is earned, not given. The drums and programming drive the energy, turning the track into a celebration. Gollehon’s solo reflects the full range of his artistry as he pulls from rock energy in the attack, jazz sophistication in the way he hits chord tones and resolves phrases, and an emotive clarity that ties it all together. As the textures grow, the track swells into a multi-layered finale that feels like confetti falling on a casino floor after hitting a royal flush. The cards are revealed, the fight is done, and Gollehon walks away the winner.

Pistoleros is a soundtrack to a movie with a character that is in a gangster-jazz fever dream that turns every solo into a standoff and every groove into a chase. What makes it extraordinary is the fusion of genres, Latin, jazz, rock, electronica, and experimental noise, and the way Gollehon bends them all into his own language. He has always been the guy who shows up, horn in hand, and makes a track pop. But here, he’s the auteur, phrasing across electronic textures, in pushing horn tradition into the circuitry of modern sound. For music fans who love crossover projects, there’s something daring, cinematic, and unapologetically wild to be found here.