Information about The Wild Rumpus -- TWR, its members call it -- is not easily come by. Neither the CD folder nor the accompanying PR sheet tells me anything much, though the return address indicates it began its journey to Minnesota from Smoot, W.Va. A map informs me that Smoot is a small, unincorporated town in the southeastern part of the state, not close to any urban center. A noirish photograph on the inside shows four muscular-looking young men, none identified, holding acoustic guitars, a banjo and an acoustic bass. One line notes laconically, "All songs and music written and copyrighted by Random Rigmarole Productions."

An Internet search yields little, not much beyond the band's schedule of gigs (mostly in its home state). I also am told that TWR wants its approach known as "stompgrass." Some quoted reviewer claims to detect reggae influences -- in reality nonexistent -- in "Logan County Line." Nor, but for one cut (the banally titled "Going Home"), is this bluegrass. Moreover, I fail to detect stomps. Perhaps you have to see TWR live to catch the latter.

None of the above, of course, has anything to do with the quality of the music, which can be succinctly described as new material in the style of hard-core old-time mountain music. That could also be said of, for example, Old Crow Medicine Show, but OCMS is the Grateful Dead -- a rock band with folk roots -- next to TWR. The already-mentioned "Logan County Line" could pass as a mid-19th-century ballad, touching all the bases: murder, riverboats, ramblin', gamblin', the waiting hangman. It's the best song here in my opinion, enhanced considerably by the fittingly low-voiced growl in which the tough guy recounts his odyssey.

The characters who populate TWR's songs are recognizable types from what culture critic Greil Marcus memorably called Smithville, after the late Harry Smith's influential and much-celebrated Anthology of American Folk Music. They're mostly drifters, small-time criminals, railroaders, drunks, moonshiners and others on one side or the other of the law and/or salvation. TWR inhabits each without audible strain. Amazingly, nothing feels artificial or affected here. The voice hasn't had to go native, in other words, because it already speaks from the old home place.

This is a likable, enjoyable album. I am impressed that these guys, whoever they are, handle the concept and the sound with such authority, authenticity and affection.