A funny thing happened on the way to the consummation of "Late For the Future," the third and most infectious disc yet from pre-eminent young New Orleans funksters Galactic. The sextet, able to expertly cross riffs inspired by the Meters with acid-jazz grooves and jam-band spontaneity, settled into Kingsway Studios, a renovated 1800s mansion in the Fauborg Marigny district, with the intention of using the studio as a virtual seventh bandmate.

Tapers, after all, have collected and traded hundreds of hours' worth of the band's shows, sweaty, exhausting affairs that have been known to go on until dawn at home in the Crescent City. So nobody really wanted or needed a concert-like recording project. Galactic, hunkering down in the laidback studio with producer Nick Sansano (Sonic Youth, Grassy Knoll), instead intended to experiment with special effects, make use of the state-of-the-art technology and watch what happened.

The results of that strategy are heard right up front, on a remake of the group's "Black-eyed Pea" tune, with a gritty Jeff Raines guitar lick, played organically at first and then recycled electronically via sampling. Sticky drum loops cue the start of "Two Clowns," which eventually wanders into experimental noise and free jazz; "Bobski 2000" allies thrashing drums with Ben Ellman's nasty harmonica attack; and Raines' woozy, blistering slide work meets multiple syncopated Moore tracks on "Jeffe 2000," a page torn from bluesman R.L. Burnside's book.

Here's the irony: "Late for the Future," even more than 1998's "Crazyhorse" (Capricorn) or the group's independently released 1996 debut, conveys a real sense of the band's irresistible live sound. The disc opens with the six-string scorch, juicy B-3 melody and percolating rhythms of the aforementioned "Black-Eyed Pea," originally heard on 1995's "Is That Jazz" compilation on acid-jazz label Ubiquity. The spotlight next shines on tenor saxophonist Ellman, now the band's sole horn player. He's joined by Dirty Dozen Brass Band saxophonist Roger Lewis on the second-lining "Baker's Dozen" and the Middle Eastern-tinged "Hit the Wall," the former a nod to the best-known of the modern Crescent City street bands.

Theryl "Houseman" de Clouet, the ringer and the only African-American in the band, may be key in the band's eventual graduation from cult status to a berth on the pop landscape. De Clouet, a veteran of long-ago jams with Allen Toussaint and the Neville Brothers, lends a sense of impassioned urgency to the project, beginning with the sexual frenzy churned up on "Thrill." He belts, whispers and talks his way through throaty intimations of carnal pleasures past: "You bring out the freak in me." Galactic, likewise, brings out the boogie in us.

De Clouet pushes hard again on the slow-grooving "Century City" and "Action Speaks Louder Than Words," a gospel-funk tune borrowed from late-'70s band Chocolate Milk. Those tracks, and "Thrill," benefit from the rich background vocals of Hollygrove, the singer's longtime a capella group. The evocative, angst-spiked "Running Man" also features de Clouet, as does the slinky "Vilified," pumped up with a soaring, wordless vocal counterline provided by Swedish-born singer Theresa Andersson, formerly with the Anders Osborne Orchestra.

Galactic might best be described as a band torn between four lovers - the lean lines and deep-fried gumbo grooves of the Meters, the old-school soul approach of their flexible, seasoned singer, multiple jazzy directions and, particularly on stage, wide-open improvisational freedom. Who needs musical monogamy anyway?
- PHILIP BOOTH

(This review originally appeared online at Salon.com)

For more information on Galactic, go to http://www.galacticfunk.com/