Strange as it seems to contemplate now, the Causeway that stretches across Lake Pontchartrain was originally laid down in two pieces—the first span was actually one bouncy two-lane track with a short rail, and it over a decade before folks realized another structure was needed. The newer, safer one heads to the Northshore, while the more problematic one heads to the city.

Make of that metaphor what you will.

The Pontchartrain Wrecks have a great name, albeit a slightly cringe-worthy one given recent events, which unfortunately hits a little too close to home on their debut. The South span of their meat-and-potatoes radio rock can jostle you all over the place, as on “Anyway, Anyhow,” but it can also hypnotize you with its sameness; they don’t sound locked in a groove so much as stuck in a gear.

The more prominent Americana, back-to-the-country side, represented by the pensive and atmospheric (and pointedly titled) “Old Man River” and “Fleur de Lis,” is a much smoother ride; those tracks don’t add much to the ancient language of bad-luck losers and relationships doomed by their own entropy, but lead Miles Cabeceiras at least sounds like he understands how easy it is for a country boy to get mired in his own low self-esteem and seduced by the siren song of sleepy towns.

Their generic rock side occasionally cancels out that introspection; it gets them to the city easy enough, but it doesn’t sound like they’re fully comfortable there. Miles convinces his beloved to put on her pink dress and chase the sunset on “Anyway, Anyhow,” but, as the title implies, he doesn’t seem all that clear on why.