For years now, Quintron and Miss Pussycat have made art that is quintessentially New Orleans, not only in the way it celebrates the city’s bohemian culture but in its spirit. Soul revue showmanship and the Mardi Gras costuming impulse are clearly manifest in their live shows, but the surface oddness — the whole Pee-Wee’s Playhouse vibe — keeps many from making that connection. The mysterioso organ, the lo-tech rhythm machine and Miss Pussycat’s gleefully un-self-conscious shouting obscure the same sense of play that is found in great singles such as “Mother-In-Law” and “Ooh Poo Pah Doo.”

Quintron and Miss Pussycat released Swamp Tech, in October, but few were around to notice it at the time. It features Quintron at his most accessible, with little of the sonic murk that made his early recordings tougher to appreciate. The songs are structurally spare, dressing up progressions involving two, sometimes three, chords with bleeps, blorps and other textural elements created by instruments he built or modified himself. Over that, he runs the gamut of pronouns in “Swamp Buggy Baddass,” announcing that I, you and he are baddasses. The result is in one sense as cartoonish as you’d expect from people named Quintron and Pussycat, but it’s more.

Their intensity and commitment make the world their songs describe a real, compelling place, and one more fun than the one we live in. The seamless way they merge garage, R&B, pop and techno suggests that doesn’t happen by accident; it’s the result of a guiding intelligence behind the whole project. Swamp Tech is nutty, but it’s not nuts, and once people connect to Quintron and Pussycat’s idiosyncratic world view, the album is simpler, more direct fun than all of this sounds.

The CD comes with a DVD of Miss Pussycat’s latest puppet show, “Electric Swamp,” which is particularly poignant after the hurricane. She uses the highly processed voices of one-time rave producer “Disco Donnie” Estopinal, Sean Yseult, Antoinette K-Doe and a number of friends from the Bywater, including the late O’Neil Broyard, long-time owner of the Saturn Bar who passed away Dec. 22. The eccentric dialogue rhythms, the odd puppet design, and, well, a story that involves termite raves and the Mother-in-Law Lounge raise the question of whether Miss Pussycat is intentionally or accidentally brilliant. Her consistency though, in “Electric Swamp” and in all her puppet shows, suggests she has control of her art, and that she has adapted the same carefully crafted lo-fi aesthetic to her puppetry that Quintron brings to his music. Between them, they’ve created art every bit as natural and magnetic as “They All Asked For You.”