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Hardcore fans can be protective of their favorite bands.

Possessive, even -- and sometimes, according to Lucero frontman Ben Nichols, even downright demanding. Every step forward that a band takes is met with a certain amount of dismay and derision, as if those fans are frightened the band they want to remain forever relegated to cramped little clubs might be "discovered" by the rest of America.

Nichols understands. He's a music lover as much as he is a musician, after all. But give his group a little credit, he told The Daily Times this week -- change isn't necessarily a bad thing.

"They can be so loyal they can turn on you, too," Nichols said. "We didn't experience that so much when we signed with Universal (Music Group), because we never preached against major labels. We were never a very punk rock type of band in that sense, and nobody really cared about that. More people were freaked out when they heard there were going to be horns on the new record.

"They thought we were doing it because we were on Universal, or something like that. Since it's been out, they understand it better now, and I get it. Everybody brings their own prejudices and baggage to the table when hearing something new. For the most part, they definitely won't understand it until they hear it or see it, and even then, they might be hearing it differently than I am. But I think there are plenty of classy uses of horns on plenty of classic rock 'n' roll records."

In the case of "1372 Overton Park," released last month, change is most definitely not a bad thing. A furious rock 'n' roll record, "1372 Overton Park" doesn't see the Memphis-based Lucero abandoning its roots as it does fertilizing them with a slurry of all of gritty things you'd find in one of those cramped little clubs where the band cut its teeth -- tobacco and rotgut whiskey and sweat and the smell of hundreds of coats of floor cleaner that can never quite buff out all of the scuff marks from thousands of dancing, stomping feet.

Yes, there are horns, a relatively new addition to the Lucero arsenal -- but that doesn't mean the group has morphed into the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. If anything, the horns propel "1372" to heights reserved for classic rock albums like "Exile on Main Street." Not that the boys in Lucero would ever put themselves in such a category, but for the sake of reference, you get the idea -- this may well be the pinnacle of the band's career.

"We did put a whole lot of work into this one, songwriting-wise and in the studio, recording it," Nichols said. "We definitely spent more time on this one. There's a new sound on this record, but the songs are still Lucero songs. I hope they sound like the best examples of what we've done in the past."

Lucero can trace its genesis back to Nichols' upbringing in Arkansas, when he gazed across the Mississippi River and dreamed of a way out that only rock 'n' roll could provide. He first started playing in bands when he was 14, but it would be another 11 years before Lucero came together. By that time, he was living in Memphis, part of a burgeoning music scene that channeled the ghost of Elvis Presley, tapped into the soul power of Stax Records and borrowed from the power-pop of Ardent Studios.

A veteran of several Memphis-area punk outfits, he eventually hooked up with guitarist Brian Venable, and the two formed Lucero as an experiment -- an outfit to appeal to the Memphis scene masses and offer a vehicle for a fusion of punk roots and country-soul along with Nichols' slower songs. Shortly thereafter, bassist John Stubblefield and drummer Roy Berry came into the fold, and the crowds began to grow. The tour schedules lengthened. The out-of-town dates expanded.

With 2003's "That Much Further West," the band landed on the national map. Rolling Stone selected the album for its "Hot List," describing it as "the country album the Replacements never made." After the almost-obligatory label problems, personnel changes and living gig-to-gig on meager earnings, the guys sought legendary Memphis producer Jim Dickinson to record "Nobody's Darlings," released in 2005. In 2006, the band returned with "Rebels, Rogues and Sworn Brothers," an album with more of a soulful sound thanks to piano and organ work by Rick Steff, the band's unofficial fifth member.

Last year, the band signed a four-album deal with Universal, which insisted the band fine-tune its new batch of songs as much as possible before going into the studio with producer Ted Hutt.

"He was a big influence on the final sound of the record," Nichols said. "I think we definitely all learned a little something about making a record this time around, as well as the different ways to do it. With the demos and Ted's influence and being at Ardent (Studios), this was made in a different way than earlier ones.

"We did a lot of vocal takes, and I've got to give Ted a large amount of credit there. He had a very good ear for what he needed, and he had an idea in his head where the songs are the songs, but you've got to work to get the best takes of them. He kept really good tracks of all the takes that were done."

The end result is a jubilant, scruffy rock album with Nichols sounding both stronger and more gravel-voiced than ever. The slower, more introspective fare of the title track of "That Much Further West" are minimal; instead, the album is filled with anthemic rockers like the sly "Sixes and Sevens," the tragic-rocker "Johnny Davis" and the full court press of "Halfway Wrong." Thursday, the guys will return to East Tennessee, this time for a show at The Valarium in Knoxville's Old City. With a Memphis focus, the show will feature friends from River City, he said, and showcase the new songs in a live setting.

And the naysayers, he hopes, will be awed into silence by what they hear.

"Folks do tend to want you to make the same record over and over again," he said. " I think we did a good job making a Lucero record, but we stretched it and experimented with some stuff -- and I think it was a successful experiment."