Steve Riley gave it a lot of thought. If he were to form a band outside his venerable Mamou Playboys aggregation, who of his favorite musicians would be in it? Fortunately, the answers weren’t exactly rocket science—Feufollet whiz kid Chris Stafford on guitar and Balfa Toujours/Red Stick Ramblers’ Kevin Wimmer and Charivari’s Mitch Reed on twin fiddles. (Reed, BeauSoleil’s recently anointed bassist, also plays bass when the arrangements call for a single fiddle). Toss in the Red Stick Ramblers’ Glen Fields behind the traps and Riley, of course, on accordion, and voila! The Cajun super group was born, a dream team outlet of Acadiana’s best talent. To top it all off, the christened moniker of “Racines” couldn’t be more apropos; it’s French for roots.

Racines certainly lives up to its name with material stemming from the roots of Cajun and Creole music. At the group’s core are several, earthy Dennis McGee twin-fiddle duets that sound as if Reed and Wimmer stepped out of the 19th Century. To give the proceedings an archaic, dusty ambience, producer Dirk Powell ingeniously mixed the record monaurally to resemble what Cajun LPs sounded like in the ’50s and ’60s.

On several songs, Riley and Wimmer play the melody and the rhythm in unison, recalling a time in Creole music when the accordionist and fiddler play in tandem.

Even though every member of Racines already had a bread-and-butter gig and scheduling mutually convenient studio times posed challenges, the debut disc never feels rushed just to meet a self-imposed deadline. Instead, the vibe is loose and natural with plenty of interaction between all. On the bluesy zydeco jam groove of “My Baby She’s Gone to Stay,” Wimmer and Riley trade hot licks in call-and-response fashion. “Crowley 2-Step” finds Stafford flat-picking the tune’s time-honored melody line at a brisk pace after Riley and Wimmer have had a rip with it. The fiddle duet “Reel Perdu/Fruge’s Reel” continuously builds until they practically channel the mounting intensity into a sonic storm. Powell jumps into the foray with his clucking clawhammer banjo, and there are a few mind-messing moments where you can’t discern if this is really a Cajun fiddle duet or a surreal Appalachian hoedown. Even though they frame the concept by honoring those that preceded them, all inhibitions were left at the door.