Cesar Rosas is the George Harrison of Los Lobos: his songs, fewer in number than those of a more prolific duo (in this case, guitarist/singer David Hidalgo and drummer Louis Perez), make up in quality what they lack in quantity. After years of turning in two or three songs per record, Rosas finally took the plunge and released a solo album, Soul Disguise. It's no All Things Must Pass--it obviously isn't the work of a creatively stifled man suddenly unleashing years of material, and that's probably a good thing (because, let's face it, no one's listened to All Things Must Pass since, say, 1974). Then again, happiness and fulfillment aren't necessarily the strongest muses either, as Soul Disguise is breezy, straightforward...and, unfortunately, dull.

It's not as though Rosas lacks the talent to make a strong record. His contributions to Los Lobos' last few albums are a varied treasure trove of reinvented traditions: the swing-blues of "That Train Don't Stop Here," the blistering, Santana-like "I Walk Alone," the soul-grind of "I Can't Stop the Rain" and the dark, turbulent Puerto Rican ballad "Maricela" demonstrate a versatility far beyond most songwriters. Soul Disguise, on the other hand, offers no versatility to speak of: most of the songs are generic roots-rock that could have come from any Texas bar band, produced and polished to a deadening sheen. It's not terrible, but it's certainly not an album you wait twenty-five years to make.

Hints of Rosas' true range of talent are discernible here and there. "Angelito" and "Adios Mi Vida," two jubilant south-of-the-border polkas, recall Los Lobos' early days as a traditional dance band, when their version of the Spanish-language standard "Anselma" earned them a Grammy; the tunes are fun but rather old hat by the Wolves' standards. Of the eight or so faceless rockers, "Struck" stands out for its catchy whistling refrain, while the title song introduces some welcome grit into the too-smoothly running works. "Better Way" is an acoustic ballad, tender and inspirational without being too cloying, and the last track, "E. Los Ballad #13," contains traces of real pain in its stately tempo and somber melody.

With a few exceptions, Soul Disguise shows only one side of Cesar Rosas' multi-faceted musical personality. Call this one the amiable bar-rocker, slamming out tune after tune to an audience that reaches for its jacket when things get too slow or too weird. Rosas keeps the tempos up and the guitars cranked, but mediocre material is still mediocre, no matter how it's dressed. Maybe Rosas needs the competition with Hidalgo and Perez to produce great work; I prefer to think he just wanted to have a good time making a record and didn't care how "interesting" it turned out. It's difficult to classify so unassuming a record as a vanity project but, unless you're using it as background music at a really good barbecue, Soul Disguise was probably more fun to make than it is to listen to.