The members of The Wilders sound exhausted on their new album. The self-titled project conveys the sense of weariness associated with crushing hangovers, mind-numbing cross-country road trips and an unshakable sense of disappointment.

The fatigue doesn’t extend to the quality of the music. The Wilders have never sounded better. The new project ranks among the best locally released albums of 2011.

The band’s artistic renaissance makes the unfortunate news that its members intend to take an extended hiatus particularly disappointing. In a recent announcement to his band’s fans, lead vocalist Ike Sheldon wrote “we don’t know what the future holds, but we know we’re gonna be giving The Wilders some time off to check out life from a different focus and direction for a year, and then see how we feel after that.”

Since the current quartet of Ike Sheldon, Betse Ellis, Nate Gawron and Phil Wade coalesced a dozen years ago, The Wilders have become one of Kansas City’s most venerated acts. Although rooted in bluegrass, old-timey music and hard-core honky-tonk, The Wilders have earned the respect and appreciation of a broad swathe of music lovers. The band’s frenetic instrumental rave-ups gleefully convey a free-wheeling improvisational spirit that appeals to jazz lovers, while its tough songs resonate among partisans of punk rock.

Yet aside from enthusiastic pockets of support in Europe and a solid base of fans in the Midwest, The Wilders never managed to break out in a big way. The lack of commercial success in spite of the band’s powerful music and rugged tour schedule surely wore on its members.

Even before the news about The Wilders’ status broke, the album’s bleak tone indicated that its disposition was anything but sunny.

Most albums typically open with a bang, but this one begins with the weary whisper of “Ordinary People.” The heartbreaking performance employs the sort of hushed tones often used to prevent children from overhearing awful truths.

The bedraggled “Get Up Kid” and the despairing “Pat’s 25” are similarly bleak. “Lay Down Our Guns,” the closing song, is an ideal distillation of the album’s weary melancholy. The crippling recognition that a sense of lingering dissatisfaction will never be resolved is utterly devastating.

Three of fiddler Betse Ellis’ contributions represent the most notable exceptions to the album’s otherwise morose sensibility. “Riverboat,” a tribute to the late old-timey musician John Hartford, floats smoothly with sepia-toned charm. “Riding on Your High Horse” and “No. 7” seem designed to kick up dust at the campgrounds of the renowned bluegrass festival in Winfield, Kan.

Sheldon’s “L.A.,” the album’s only other raucous song, contains references to an “alcohol haze” and people with “a rotten past.”

Misery, as is often the case, has resulted in an artistic triumph. Here’s hoping that the band’s sabbatical allows it to rejuvenate without losing its edge. Kansas City’s music scene would be a significantly lesser place without The Wilders.