There is nothing austere or show-offy in the new release by Peter Ward, a prominent figure on the Boston blues scene. Train to Key Biscayne, as with so much music I like, reminds me why I was attracted to a particular thing, in this case blues, in the first place. Warm and approachable, the recording highlights the musicians he grew up or hangs out with in New England -- they include the likes of Luther "Guitar Junior" Johnson, Johnny Nicholas, Ronnie Earl and Sugar Ray Norcia -- alongside Ward's affable guitar style and nicely crafted songs.

He handles lead vocals on two cuts while farming out others to Nicholas, Norcia, Johnson and Michelle Willson. The songs, all Ward originals, are written out of an immersion in a tradition going back to the foundational sounds of mid-century Chicago. In a past incarnation Ward performed with the Legendary Blues Band, fronted by alumni of Muddy Waters's band. There's even a song, "The Luther Johnson Thing," that Ward wrote to celebrate Johnson (whose early performing career was in the Chicago clubs); Johnson himself sings it. I suppose this could be a little weird, but it isn't. Like so much else on this disc, it just feels good-natured and sincere.

Even so, the blues-rock "I Saw Your Home" (sung by Willson) is somewhere between depressing and disturbing, an epic ballad of poverty, conflict and cruelty. Most blues-rock arrives in my ears prejudged as a failed effort to insert authenticity into tired guitar-rock riffs. "Home" on the other hand is a surprisingly affecting story-song with a strong, memorable melody. It's one of the standouts on Train, which will linger in your mental jukebox even when you're not playing it.

Mental music is sort of the idea behind Ear Worms. Ordinarily, veteran Duke Robillard and his fellows, who in varying configurations have been cutting albums for decades, focus on assorted shades of blues. Here, they loosen up to showcase Robillard's idea of songs (only one, the first, an original) that stay inside your head, welcome or not, until they've exhausted themselves. In my experience, and I suspect yours as well, a song doesn't have to be good to accomplish as much. Many summers ago, as I worked a miserable job on a road crew, a really dumb Sonny James country-pop hit tormented me mercilessly, to the point that at least once I resorted to screaming (when, I should add, nobody was around to hear it) in a failed attempt to drown it out.

Robillard's notion of ear worms is more elevated, so I can assure you that none of the dozen cuts will ruin your day. Neither, though, are they likely to overstay their welcome. When I first heard Ear Worms, I expected a succession of cheesy, guilty-pleasure fluff. That shameless hope, alas, was destined to be dashed. Instead, with a certain ambivalence shading my relief, I heard a bunch of respectable blues, rock, r&b, folk, country and pop songs. None has followed me outside earshot, but they have given me pleasure when I hear them rolling out of the speakers.

About half are new to me. One is "Dear Dad" by the late Chuck Berry. Though I hadn't heard the lyrics before, rhythm and melody are eminently recognizable from other Berry tunes. Link Wray's classic instrumental "Rawhide" -- not to be confused with Bill Monroe's -- has been reworked nearly beyond recognition but not beyond this listener's favor. The traditional "Careless Love" is performed sans its famous lyrics. On my favorite cut Bob Dylan's "I Am a Lonesome Hobo" (sung by guitarist Mark Cutler in an effectively terse voice ), from the late-1967 John Wesley Harding, becomes a chilling confession of evil deed and existential dread. From a familiar figure in American folklore, Dylan fashioned the testimony of a conscienceless sociopath who weirdly anticipates (as Robillard surely knew when he selected the tune) a future occupant of the White House. Robillard and compatriots set the story inside a perfectly imagined folk-rock arrangement.

On TeleMasters the respected musician Arlen Roth assembles artists from a range of genres to celebrate the mighty sound of the Telecaster guitar. Happily, these aren't pointless jams in which stylistically incompatible pickers play against each other in an attempt to achieve world dominance. Instead, it's the supremely adaptable Roth working individually with country, rock, blues and all-purpose artists to cover familiar and obscure material to whose character the Telecaster has given definition.

It's a generous hour and 15 minutes of unfailingly inspired songs and tunes, more the latter than the former. Everybody is on his or her best behavior, which means (for me anyway) that Nashville's Steve Wariner and Brad Paisley are acting more as musicians than as showboats. Roth and Cindy Cashdollar deliver up an eerie, ramped-up instrumental reading of "Ghost Riders in the Sky," a song that has excited me ever since my first exposure when I was a little kid. The Chuck Berry number "Promised Land" (sung by Jerry Donahue) is something akin to outright thrilling.