As vocalist (and former New Orleanian) Ingrid Lucia explains in the album’s liner notes: “Musicians are Hotel Children. Some bring their family and home with them. Some just bring their horn and habits, whatever they may be.” Ingrid and her trombonist/cousin Todd Londagin grew up in this transient world, honing their entertainer skills on the streets of the French Quarter, Mexico, Las Vegas, New York and Paris, where their associates included Robert Smith and the Cure.

Ingrid has a unique voice—something like a cross between Eartha Kitt and Betty Boop. She sounds as if she just stepped out of a l930s musical. Fortunately, the Neutrinos have not been wholly consumed by the recent “swing” fad, aiming more in the direction of traditional jazz and their choice of material is broad and bizarre. “Violent Love,” a Willie Dixon tune, is absolutely appropriate for these times when a bit of S&M is chic and the New Yorker profiles a dominatrix. Guitarist Matt Munisteri contributes a slew of excellent songs including the torchy “Lonely Side” and the wacky shuffle “Baby’s Making Duck,” which features Todd on vocals. Of the numerous contenders to Chet Baker’s throne, Todd is the heir apparent: he’s got the smooth voice, the smooth looks and he wails on trombone.

John Phillips’ “Love Is Coming Back” could be Ingrid’s theme song, with its wistful recollections of gents opening doors for ladies, lighting their cigarettes and issuing sweet compliments: “Love is so, so civilized.” Louis Armstrong’s “Someday You’ll Be Sorry” features a Matt Munisteri guitar solo that sparkles like Moet-Chandon. And direct from the Velvet Underground (and left field) comes “After Hours,” originally recorded by drummer Maureen “Mo” Tucker as a sort of manic-depressive paean with opiated overtones. The Neutrinos’ version is positively bouncy, almost akin (in the realm of weirdness) to Britney Spears tackling Lydia Lunch.

The production throughout, by veterans Tommy LiPuma and Al Schmitt, has the sheen of a Frank Sinatra session: cool and crisp. And the cover photo of Ingrid in a hotel bathtub, clad in nothing but sudsy bubbles, is the most seductive thing since Herb Alpert utilized a model doused in whipped cream. Scrumptious!