A harmonically wise and confident band capable of loosely wound Latin pop/rock, Maná has returned with some of their best songs of their career stuck to a midday high-gloss finish. No twitchy tokenism here -- it would be ridiculous to lump this music along with the patronizing Latin pop stars crossing over into America's gaze -- but the album's generally mid-tempo moseys can only feature an intriguing cross between Cheap Trick and the films of Carlos Diegues before things seem especially anachronistic. Not due to threading disparate genres together, not due to misguided skill, but for how the band seems more concerned with pin-drop clear production standards than the naturalized, flowing, sit-down-and-play setting the music demands. Difficult to hate, then. A talented misdirection that sold millions.