The Zydepunks are one of the signature bands of the postmillennial New Orleans rock scene, a movement that started before Katrina but has flourished in the wake of the flood. The band is built to be great live as it plugs earthy, dance-oriented European folk and gypsy melodies into a hotwired garage band rhythm section plowing away with rapid fire, unsyncopated abandon. The energy level that feeds back between the band and the audience instinctively reaches nonviolent, mosh pit intensity at venues like Checkpoint Charlie and Voodoo.

But like a lot of the best live music in New Orleans, whatever magic elixir the group is providing its audience in person doesn’t translate to the recording studio. Listening to Finisterre, you would never be able to guess how truly awesome this band can be live. It’s a workmanlike roots rock record that mines an eclectic range of source material from klezmer to Celtic (the unfortunately named group has never had any discernible zydeco content) without ever venturing beyond a mild boil.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The world needs good roots rock bands and the Z’punks do a decent job of grafting disparate styles (and languages) onto rock structures. The trouble is that too much of the record is one-paced, and the personality the band is able to transmit in live performance is nowhere in evidence here. We get a couple of peeks at a possible solution on “Dear Molly,” with its contribution from fellow street musician Stix duh Clown on guitar, and the moving tribute to murdered fellow musician Mike Frey on “Song For Mike” and “Long Story Short,” which includes a beautiful violin break from Francis Skully. But in the final analysis, the Z’punks need something to bridge the gap between the charisma of its live performances and the generic feel of its studio sound. Outstanding songwriting would go a long way toward solving the problem.