Rhudabega reminds me of the stuff I used to listen to as an angry 14-year-old. I mean that in a good way. This band is way on the edge, straight out of a garage, and that garage is located in Louisiana. The sound has an indie rock feel to it, with a riveting beat behind violent bass, and on top a female singer who utilizes a range that runs lower than the man she duets with. When you have a two-member band, and you put out a debut record with 16 tracks, no two sounding very much alike, you’ve got to be versatile and prolific. Molly McGuire and Ty Deneau are just that. Though much of the record sounds like mid- to late-eighties college radio rock, there is a lot of interesting and original creative output here.

Molly McGuire’s bass is highly prevalent on just about every track, which is what gives the record a stripped-down boney feel with a cryptic side. But raw doesn’t necessarily mean thin. Much of the material is fairly complex musically, yet never too serious to be palatable. The second track “Nathan” is where the record really gets going with a dragging beat under loopy bass that makes you bob your head while a swirling vocal duet on top turns you in circles. They mix it up with blown-hard harmonica on “Turkish Tea,” giving the whole outfit a New Orleans flair, an eminent quality from the intro of the very first track which explodes off the mark with a beat that is so second line you could march down the street to it. Somehow, this wacky duo has succeeded in fusing punk rock with Delta groove.

Most of the lyrics are more down-to-earth than out-there, delineating images of people places, and social frustrations, like those expressed on “Joseph”: “I feel like that poor angel did when she devoured her sister starved of the attention she deserved/ Joseph’s not talking to me.” With Mike West’s banjo accompaniment and backwoods-style harmonica, you can hear a tinge of bluegrass in the midst of a mournful tune. And when Molly wails the poetry of regret, it tugs at the heart of any quirky chick who has ever suffered unrequited love.

The most remarkable element of this record is what goes on vocally. On many tracks, Molly sings low while Ty harmonizes above her for a peculiar flip-flopped effect that catches the ear off guard. They also pull some traditional vocal tricks like simple polyphony, where each singer carries a running melody independent from the other while weaving in and out of what they happen to be doing instrumentally. Other times, the format is a strong melody by either singer with a descant of sorts by the other, or vocal distortion effects coupled with Molly’s spooky bass creeping around underneath à la Jane’s Addiction. Believe it or not, none of this comes off sounding too fancy. It maintains an air of ease and simplicity, while spilling over with little ironies that make art a pleasure to indulge.