Two recent releases from two of the best blues labels, one based in Alberta, the other in Maryland, attest to the genre's variety. Manx Marriner Mainline's Hell Bound for Heaven speaks to blues' roots in gospel and folk. The Texas Horns' Get Here Quick glories in the brassy sounds of r&b. The musics sound both broadly alike and specifically unique. Fundamentally, perhaps, one is for listening and pondering, the other for carrying on.

Better known in his native Canada than here, Harry Manx, a kind of north-of-the-border Ry Cooder, sings and plays banjo, guitar and Mohan Veena, a modified slide guitar used in Indian classical music. Steve Marriner, the junior partner here in age though not in talent, is a blues harmonica master and multi-instrumentalist. Accompanied by other figures from the Canadian roots scene, they tackle 10 numbers, encompassing originals such as Marriner's witty title tune and blues-accented gospel cuts such as the Rev. Gary Davis's "Death Don't Have No Mercy in This Land" and the Staples Family's "Wish I Had Answered." The former drops a Mississippi slide into a Piedmont classic, taking the listener aback in about as pleasant a way possible.

The arrangements range from the starkly acoustic to full band. Yet, their diversity aside, they all feel of a piece. On first listening, the opener, Manx's "Nothing," gives the impression of a nicely crafted mid-century Chicago-style blues, until one realizes that Manx has brought a banjo to the project. "My Only One," a Manx-penned love song, becomes a lot better than it ought to be owing to the spare banjo/harmonica/Hammond organ sound, which proves unexpectedly moving in spite of the lyrics' sometimes hackneyed sentiments.

Marriner's "My Lord" with its 12-string and harmonica updates the sound of the oldtime guitar evangelists, while "Hell Bound for Heaven" brings in an Indian-music interlude to transform the song from purely Christian in theological underpinning to speak to a broader spiritual yearning that transcends language or specific religious allegiance. More earthbound is the cover of Charlie Patton's great "Rattlesnake Blues," propelled by an excellent small band anchored in Marriner's big wheels-rollin' percussion.

All in all, a cliche-untainted album that uncovers surprises in musical forms that one could have sworn have none left.

The Texas Horns are Mark "Kaz" Kazanoff, John Mills and Al Gomez, backed by an assortment of respected vocalists, guitarists, keyboardists and percussion having their way with blues and r&b material. Though uniformly well executed, it has to be said that the songs, except for the unexpected Trump-era protest piece "You Can't Be Serious" and the excellent "Sundown Talkin'," all sort of blur into a wall of horns and blues-guitar riffs.

In other words, this amounts to a party record, intended for enjoyment and not for contemplation. It ought to be noted, however, that that was the idea of the blues at its creation, before there were large blues ensembles and when liquor- and dance-fueled celebrations usually centered on a sole performer behind a guitar or a piano. In that sense, if you think blues has become overthought, Quick will remind you that once it was meant just for fun.