The group features the unique front line instrumentation of clarinet, saxophone and trombone. The band's debut CD is appropriately entitled "Jammin At The Cajun". The young musicians play in the tradition of Fats Waller, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong and Eddie Condon, but with a sound all their own.

      The Ragtimers play with verve and irresistible drive, hence their slogan "Radical Pop Music from the Ragtime Era".

Walk into the Cajun (129 Eighth Ave., between 16th and 17th streets, 212-691-6174, jazzatthecajun@aol.com), saunter past the long bar into the main room and you will be instantly transported to New Orleans. From the Bourbon Street sign to the mural of the street, from the Mardi Gras umbrellas hanging from the ceiling to the photos of jazz artists that adorn the walls, the establishment exudes Big Easy vibes. Those good feelings extend to the cuisine and the music.

Owner Herb Maslin opened the restaurant in 1978 when Louisiana cooking was virtually unknown in this area. He is also a fan of early jazz, and the Cajun is the only venue in New York that presents traditional music seven days a week. Even more remarkable, it does so without a cover charge.

The artists may not be household names, but the quality is high. Take, for example, the Manhattan Ragtime Orchestra, which performs every Thursday at 8 p.m. This ensemble, playing what it calls "radical pop music from the Ragtime era," was formed by clarinetist Orange Kellin. Its members include Skye Steele (violin), Jon-Erik Kellso (trumpet), Brad Shigeta (trombone), John Gill (banjo and guitar), Terry Waldo (piano), Conal Fowkes (bass) and Rob Garcia (drums).

Kellso is an up-and-coming horn player who will be appearing soon at the 92nd Street Y with Dick Hyman. While the members clearly relish performing this music, they also have their individual interests. For example, Gill plays in a rockabilly group, the Sidekicks, at the Cajun on Sunday nights, displaying his admiration for Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash.

The Ragtime Orchestra has a delightful new album, "Euphonic Sounds," the title of which comes from a 1910 piece by Scott Joplin. This is ebullient music full of surprises. In a conversation with Gill, who did many of the arrangements, after a recent performance at the Cajun, he explained how he hunts down sheet music from the early 20th century... He, Kelin and the rest of the band demonstrate that the result of scholarship can be pure fun, when played with such flair.

Their work includes ragtime classics (for example, "Maple Leaf Rag" and the album's title track), pop songs ("Oh, You Beautiful Doll," sung by Waldo, an impeccable ragtime pianist), early blues (the 1914 "St. Louis Blues" and "The Original Jelly Roll Blues") and dance pieces, including some with a Spanish tinge.

The sentimental "Silver Threads Among the Gold," which they recently performed at the Cajun, dates back to the 19th century. Their music sparkles with the charm of a bygone, more innocent era.

Along with music, the Cajun presents Louisiana-style cooking at reasonable prices. For two people, the "Taste of New Orleans" is a safe bet. It offers a thick, spicy gumbo, followed by a etouffee, jambalaya, red beans and rice, chicken Creole and a crab cake.

Having traveled extensively throughout Louisiana sampling bread puddings we can attest that the Cajun's version is the real thing. Dietetic it's not, but you don't have to eat the whole thing -- although we found it hard not to.

The Sunday champagne jazz brunch features New Orleans pain perdu, eggs Hussarde and Sardou and other Louisiana specialties. The accompanying music is just as tasty, performed by Friends of Jimmy Butts with Carol Sudhalter and vocalist Myrna Lake.

The weekly evening lineup features Kevin Dorn's Traditional Jazz Collective on Mondays; Stanley's Washboard Kings on Tuesdays; and Eddy Davis and his New Orleans Jazz Band (which sometimes includes Woody Allen -- they played together in "Wild Man Blues," the documentary about Allen's European tour) on Wednesdays. On Thursdays, the Manhattan Ragtime Orchestra performs.

The Canal Street Dixieland Jazz and Blues Band, featuring former New York State Supreme Court Justice Herb Adlerberg and Don Reich, the former provost of Oberlin and Brooklyn colleges, takes to the stage Friday nights. Saturdays belong to the Red Onion Jazz Band.

Six nights a week and on Sunday brunch, the Cajun is the finest exponent of New Orleans jazz and cuisine in New York City, featuring fiery improvised music amidst plates full of glistening oysters and shrimp etoufee. However even the Deity wanted something different at week's end, so Friday nights belong to Johnny Tupelo and The Sidekicks. They don't burst into "Bourbon Street Parade" when you enter but they swing fervently. The combo is made up of Tupelo, guitar and vocals, Steve Alcott, pedal steel guitar, Brian Nalepka, upright bass; Fred Stoll, drums, and either Monica McMahon or Becky Barta as the essential impassioned girl singer.

Tupelo himself is a man of mystery. Rumor has suggested that he is a distant relative of the jazz musician John Gill, but the FBI has uncovered no evidence of this, and I'd rather listen to the band than worry about such matters. A heroic-looking figure comfortable in bolo ties and embroidered shirts, he might have sprung full-blown from a roadhouse in Vicksburg or Tupelo itself, birthplace of Elvis Aron Presley. His guitar playing is simple, rocking, and authentic -- whether he is leisurely trolling through a melody, making every note count, creating backing figures that lead up to a storming outchorus, or varying his timbres from honeyed to snarling. His baritone is warm and unaffected, he never relies on the visual effects some singers need, and his between-songs patter is witty and erudite. And he is entirely amiable: if audiences request a song the band doesn't know (which seems highly unlikely), Tupelo and the Sidekicks promise to learn it for the next week, and they keep their word.

Alcott is a master player who summons up orchestral textures worthy of a Nashville choir. Nalepka drives the band by percussive, perfectly placed notes in the best Hintonic way; Stoll knows everything about solid backbeats and perfectly-placed accents. They are a wonderful instrumental team, and everyone chimes in with on-target harmony singing. Both Monica and Becky know how to channel Patsy Cline, perfectly combining "I know what I'm singing about -- I've had my heart broken too often" and "I'm just about to cry."

The band's repertoire is varied, swinging, and comfortable without being hackneyed: "St. Louis Blues," Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues," Cline's "Crazy," Fats Domino's "I'm Walkin'," the Everly Brothers' "Bye Bye Love," Bill Haley's "Rock Around the Clock," "Blue Moon of Kentucky," Elvis's first hit, and lesser-known gems, such as Buddy Knox's "Party Doll." Admittedly, other bands work through these songs, but Tupelo and the Sidekicks are extraordinarily talented players who do more than copy the old 45 rpm records. Their creative spirit animates every performance. At times, the quartet has the collective intensity of a swinging big band; they also show the rhythmic connections between Fifties country and Forties rhythm and blues.

"This is good old solid American music," Tupelo says quietly but firmly, and the jubilant faces of the Cajun's listeners prove him right. I was reminded that New York City, for all its proudly-displayed urbanity, is one of the largest country-music centers of the world. On a recent Friday night, when Becky came up to sing her first song, Tupelo welcomed her to the stand with a friendly, "You make youself to home here," and everyone in the club took him up on it. Try it for yourself!

(Michael Steinman writes about jazz for The Mississippi Rag and Cadence)

Has free-floating anxiety moved into your apartment? Does existential dread stare at you from the other pillow? As a panacea without a co-pay, I urge you to visit The Cajun any Wednesday night, savor their New Orleans cuisine, and heal yourself with the musical balm offered by Eddy Davis and his fiery group, "Wild Reeds and Wicked Rhythm," a neat description. It is a band with imagination and scope: on a recent Wednesday night, the repertoire went from "Stumbling" to "Margie," "Autumn Leaves," to "Say 'Si Si,'" the last sung bilingually. The truly international quintet (Swedish, South African, Australian, and Hoosier for 4/5) looks unbuttoned, and its instrumentation might suggest a rural back-porch gathering. But don't be taken in by the informality: this is a hot, sophisticated jazz group at home with Jo Stafford, Zez Confrey, and Thelonious Monk in the same set.

Davis, although he resembles a small-town pharmacist who tells you to throw your pills away (or, in the right light, a less patrician FDR), is a swinging banjoist with none of the industrial tone often affected by his brethren. He is also a conversational yet intense vocalist who writes affecting songs that combine folk poetry and original melodies. His front-line comrades are clarinetist Orange Kellin, earnest and emotionally direct, fluid yet never glib. Each of Kellin's notes counts. In the middle you'll find Scott Robinson, often on C-melody saxophone but able to play anything with a reed in it as well as cornet. Robinson inhabits his own world whose boundaries are Rudy Wiedoft and Sun Ra, with express stops at Frank Trumbauer and Lester Young. Musicians speak of him with awe, he can quiet a room on a ballad or suggest rhythm and blues from Mars. (Kellin and Robinson seem like playful cubs -- tussling with one another, but never competing for attention. And when one of them can't make the gig, the substitutes are no less gifted: altoist Michael Hashim or clarinetist Pete Martinez.) Bassist Debbie Kennedy provides a firm foundation, whether she's walking the chords stylishly or driving a jam ensemble home by slapping the strings. The nimble pianist an affecting singer Conal Fowkes can be as sharply focused as a youthful Teddy Wilson or stomp so fervently that listeners might think another pianist has joined him on the bench.

Although most sets have their yearning ballads, Davis likes briskly walking tempos, and the band starts off with a rocking intensity that other groups never reach. The instrumentation suggests Jimmie Noone's Apex Club Orchestra, but the stirring ensemble interplay recalls the Bechet-Spanier HRS records or Soprano Summit in its youth. In closing choruses, Robinson sets a riff, and the jubilant power of this quintet is something to marvel at. There's musical comedy as well - slap-tongue reed choruses, musicians joking while someone else is improvising, and a fondness for false endings that trick audiences into gusts of premature applause.

"This band is fun to play with," says Davis, grinning, rocking back and forth while playing -- a man in the grip of jazz ecstasy -- and he's right: it's a truly uplifting experience to witness.

(Michael Steinman writes about jazz for The Mississippi Rag and Cadence)