The band is called Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys. The guy in the middle holds a button-box that squeezes like an accordion, but shouts hallelujah like a big brass band. The fiddle cracks wise and warm, the guitar falls off the edge of the earth, and the rhythm section is purring rumble like a Coupe DeVille of shark-fin vintage. It all flows as a liquid-smooth groove, topped with three heartfelt voices harmonizing in 17th-century French from the steamy sub-tropics. From the day they started, they have gone from strength to strength. And never before in Cajun music has a comparable wealth of skills been brought to the same table. When all that heart and all that skill focus on the revelry of a hot two-step, then turn on a dime and deliver an a cappella ballad, then play something that sounds like Howlin' Wolf fell in lust with a Creole girl, you've found the most Cajun music you can find in any one spot. You've found Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys.