It’s an often heard criticism when it comes to hot shot young white boy blues guitarists—they haven’t lived long enough to warble about life’s pains. A valid observation, sure, but there are exceptions to the rule. In a related roots genre, old-time country music, the duo of New Orleans’ Jeff and Vida pen heartfelt lyrics with a perspective beyond their years. As Jeff handles lead guitar, mandolin and banjo, Vida’s wailing singing aches with pain and sorrow. Her country-tinged voice often drips in tears as if she hailed from the Dust Bowl era and lived The Grapes of Wrath experience. In doing so, the duo’s rhythm guitarist leverages her vocal inflections to fit the tune’s feel and the characters telling the story. (Interestingly, some are told from a male perspective.) Their stories are intriguing like “Elizabeth” where a woman’s dowry, her firstborn, is given to a scoundrel who never returns. As she slips away into middle age, her regrets never do. Or “Seven Years” where a sneering, cynical woman recounting her multitude of lovers, still longs for the one that’s in the ground. In addition to Jeff and Vida’s skillful playing, among those helping out are fiddler Gina Forsyth, veteran dobro wiz Harold Cavallero and mandolinist Pat Flory. Not only do they provide an acoustic balance that’s on par with the matching bowling shirts and bolo tie-wearing ’grass pickers up north, it’s also vibrantly fresh. Beautiful and twisted melancholy at its finest.