The Tin Men, who have been the recipients of a serious jazz beau buzz, feature Alex McMurray on guitar and vocals, "Washboard" Chaz Leary on percussion and Matt Perrine on the sousaphone, a close relative of the tuba. An only-in-New Orleans amalgamation, the Tin Men live shows offer a woozy, bluesy and charming carnival romp drawn from the more whimsical songs in McMurray's often gloomy catalog, supplemented by selections from Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart - "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum" - Fats Waller, Irving Berlin and Bob Dylan. All are rendered with the unconventional combination of washboard, guitar and sousaphone.

Only in New Orleans could an album featuring jazz guitar, washboard, and tuba—and those instruments only, save for an occasional short-order cook's “order up!” bell—be most notable for its songwriting. And yet, that's true; while the Tin Men's '03 debut, Super Great Music for Modern Lovers, showcased the talents of local mainstays Matt Perrine (tuba), Alex McMurray (guitar), and Washboard Chaz (guess) in reinterpreting and recontextualizing jug-band jazz, the newer, more focused, more streamlined Freaks For Industry serves as a stage for the continuing development of McMurray's writing chops. “She will give her hair a toss / so as to hide that so so so so face,” he sings on “The Woman I Love,” and you're not quite sure where his snottiness and his affection meet. Which is the point. I think.

To a lot of people, the Tin Men are maybe a curio of a forgotten time, andd the band spends as much time reveling in the sheer rhythmic joy of standards like Fats Waller ‘s “Your Feets Too Big” and Cab Calloway's “The Man From Harlem” (assisted by the Pfister Sisters) as they do ripping the wires out of slightly more modern standards like “I'm Gonna Be A Wheel Someday,” “Mess Around,” and “Immigrant Song.” (Yes. That one.) But McMurray's originals take up most of the set this time, and that's a very good thing, considering how he inverts the many meanings of “Baby” and crafts scenes like “Otis Convalesces” that are twice as sinister as their surfaces. Since this puts him right in line with the actual hepcat songwriting of the time, it's a perfect fit—in fact, Alex may find himself backing up into Randy Newman territory soon if he keeps drawing these snide portraits using the colors of classic prewar Americana, classic Newman, that is.