Tramps, Traitors, and Little Devils represents a who’s who gathering of the Chicago indie scene. Smog’s Bill Callahan, Royal Trux’s Neil Michael Hagerty, post-classical composer Jim O’Rourke, Edith Frost, and others combine here to make a lurching, wobbly album that’s equal parts indie D.I.Y. aesthetic and a tip-of-the-hat to their favorite songs.

Anyone familiar with any of the parties involved won’t be surprised by what they hear. Smog’s lo-fi explorations of the heart and Royal Trux’s fractured blooze are already integral parts of the indie landscape, and the two are arguably the most obvious members of the supersession, contributing songwriting or vocals to over half the disc’s songs.

Callahan’s songwriting contributions, “Zero Degrees” and “Nothing Rises Up to Meet Me”, echo his own albums, particularly the recent Rain on Lens. What’s surprising, though, is how much he sounds like a kindred spirit with Sebadoh’s Lou Barlow. Both songs are stately and emotional, especially “Nothing Rises Up to Meet Me”. There, Callahan orchestrates a slightly dissonant chorus of voices, and the song shifts back and forth from lonely strumming to full cacophony, culminating in a wonderfully spooky piano & violin interlude.

Hagerty’s tracks, “Texas Dogleg” and “Everyday” boast what can only be described as “smoky” drums, courtesy of Rian & Brendan Murphy, that sound like a throwback to Morphine’s glory days. The two songs are very much in keeping with Royal Trux’s mode of operations, but like Callahan, Hagerty makes excellent use of Jessica Billey’s and Mat Bauder’s string and reed accompaniment. This extra element always throws a touch of otherworldly eeriness into every song on Tramps, Traitors, and Little Devils. Edith Frost’s harmony vocals don’t hurt either, and on the songs where she takes the lead vocals (“Leaving the Army”, “One Chord Complaint”, and Randy Newman’s “Old Man”), she actually ups the ante for ethereal beauty.

So that accounts for each original track, six in all. What’s especially interesting, though, are the cover versions. Callahan takes an infectious, breezy ride through Del Reeves’s 1965 chestnut “The Girl on the Billboard” that’s all twangy guitar and off-kilter blues. Their take on Lou Reed’s “Charley’s Girl” is faithful in feel and rhythm, but somehow it almost takes on the vibe of the Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil”, which is very strange indeed. If possible, Frost’s take on “Old Man” is even more spectral and elegiac than Newman’s original, and the band’s approach to Black Sabbath’s “N.I.B.” is faithful (right down to a pretty good Ozzy impersonation on Hagerty’s part) and spirited (including the weird string and reed passages the gang adds). A little bit of everything, from meditations to metal meltdowns, and it all works in the loose framework that the group has created for itself.

Overall, it’s a fun ride. While all parties involved obviously take their work seriously, they don’t take the Super Session too seriously, so the disc has a charming, ramshackle feel all the way through. It’s a shame, though, that Jim O’Rourke isn’t more prominent. His needly guitar lines in “The Girl on the Billboard” are one of the disc’s highlights, and it would have been interesting to see how he could have mutated some of the other songs. That’s a tiny criticism, though, because Tramps, Traitors, and Little Devils has more than enough quirky energy and personality to get by as it is.