Krewe of Eris is an annual Mardi Gras marching parade, a swarm of costumed miscreants who meet in the Bywater and meander through the Upper Ninth Ward and the French Quarter. More than 60 strong, they parade putting a premium on spirit over technique, warbling and screeching, squirming and flailing. Their cares are few, their delights plentiful. A boom mike hovers above their heads, illuminated cupcakes in their midst. They celebrate the Greek goddess of strife (Discordia in Latin), and they pass apples to stunned tourists still hazy after Bacchanalian feasts. The bravest of the recipients join the ranks while others flee behind sirens and screams.

If there is one constant throughout the night, it is howls and yelps. And drums—many drums. These are not cries of anger or mockery—just pure jubilation. They dance, sometimes alone, sometimes together, a rag-tag bunch. When the time comes they join together and sing. No words, just a repeated syllable that spreads along the streets like the happiest of plagues.

Chaos is their appeal, but the disorder has been captured. Sixty-two percussion and horn players and one big second line were recorded the Sunday night before last year’s Fat Tuesday by Mid-City’s Domino Sound Record Shack owner Matt Knowles, and he released it on his own Domino Sound record label. And despite (or because of) all the mischief, it is Mardi Gras music at its most honest.