NEW YORK (CNN) -- On a mild Saturday afternoon, with derelicts catching rays all along the Bowery, a blacked-out van bearing a small trailer with Colorado plates swings into the glorious gift of a parking space in front of the Bowery Ballroom on Delancey Street.

A thin man jumps out to assess the puddle the trailer will come to rest in, calculating where would be best to park so the band can load in without trudging through toxic sludge.

It's a good metaphor for the career of this band, 16 Horsepower.

The thin man is Jean-Yves Tola, drummer and pianist, supervising the setup and sound check while his bandmates Pascal Humbert (bassist) and David Edwards (singer, guitarist, and banjo and accordion player) wrap up a radio interview at NYU several blocks away.

The road crew, two more wiry men, emerges from the van, and the three start running gear into the club, where they immediately set up for sound check. The only other person on the scene is the club's janitor.

Over an illegal indoor cigarette, Tola takes time out to explain the genesis of the trio, now wrapping up an abbreviated tour prior to finishing a DVD of the band's history and a new record, to be released on the JetSet label. The band's other records include "Folklore" (2002, JetSet) and "Secret South" (2000, Razor & Tie).

"First, we all worked together in L.A. at the Roger Corman studios, making sets for films, that was in '91-'92," he says. "We started to share different ideas ... it's a full collaboration, not like anybody dictates anything. Somebody brings a main idea, and the other two help sculpt it and direct it to more of a 16 Horsepower sound."

What is that sound? A good definition can be found be in the group's song "Brimstone Rock," a fiery mix of vintage instruments and musical idioms infused with a dark spirituality in its lyrics. The group has been lumped into the alt-country genre, but its version of country tends to be darker than what can be heard on Americana-formatted radio stations.

Squeezed out by business

More of the band's history is filled in with the arrival of the other two members (also thin -- if you're worried about your weight, try touring with 16 Horsepower through a dozen countries, six months out of each year). In the mid-'90s, the band was signed to A&M, for which it released three albums. But the merger fever of the decade took its toll. Edwards recounts the bloody aftermath of the A&M/Interscope merger.

"Our band, along with about 200 bands, were let go. Pretty much they kept only the things that were platinum-selling at the time. All the people that we worked with were let go as well, even the president of the company," he says.

"The VP renewed our contract at the last second, which put us in a really advantageous position," Tola adds, claiming an amicable parting of ways for such an abrupt ending to a seven-year relationship.

The band survived by aggressive European touring, which earned them a loyal overseas following and, ultimately, new record contracts, enough for three full-length album releases, a DVD, and a projected second live CD. And that's not including Edwards' solo project, Woven Hand (he's just finishing his second album and is about to embark on a European tour), and Tola's and Humbert's band Lilium (the two are planning a second album).

But neither these demands (nor those of the families of the band members, all of whom are married) seems to daunt the survivability of this band, summed up in its unusual name, a favorite query for drunken concert hecklers.

"It's from an old traditional poem or song, I'm not sure if anybody knows who even wrote it," Tola explains. "It depicts an old man bearing his wife in a hearse pulled by 16 coal-black horses up a hill. We thought it was good imagery for us, very physical and strong."

Later, in front of a multinational mix of fans, the threesome pounded through a 90-minute set with energy and abandon. And after the lights went up and the equipment was packed away, they left, to do it again the next night.