Those driving melodies power all the way through “Le Brandy Des Montagnes Noires,” with a jaw harp pushing an eager beat, while fiddle and flute soar in an original tune that could easily have had its birth across the Atlantic in Ireland. Then “Ruban Rose” takes things back home, in a softer showcase of shimmering guitar work and three voices working effortlessly together.

But that’s what Genticorum do: make it seem so simple. Maybe after all these years together, they’ve become telepathic in their musical communication. But the truth is there are obviously months of hard slog behind this, creating and perfecting arrangements that sound as if they were came together in a single live take for each song. To manage something that seems so off the cuff is a sign of real quality. Whatever they touch sounds like it’s been hewn from and shaped by traditional Québecois music. It’s there to such a degree that it even flows through a new piece like “Old Yamaska” to the point where it feels like part of the continuum.