Tom Russell’s American expansion

“I’d rather see myself, in small letters, as an American composer. That sounds absurd, but I’ve written all different types of songs,’’ Russell says. “We beat the Americana label to death. Folk music conjures up something different to some people. And country? I wouldn’t touch it with a 10-foot pole. So I’d rather just be looked on as an American composer.’’

And why the small letters? “Well, I don’t want to pretend I’m Charles Ives.’’

But that wouldn’t be too far afield or entirely unexpected from a man whose 26 albums have traversed the musical map from Tex-Mex ballads and honky-tonk barn-burners to electric barroom blues and heart-on-sleeve folk.

At this point it seemed like Russell, who plays at Club Passim on Wednesday, couldn’t possibly stretch out even more. But “Blood and Candle Smoke,’’ his superb new album that’s earning rave reviews, pushes him into new sonic and songwriting territory.

Having admired younger artists such as Calexico and Neko Case, Russell noticed a lot of that music was coming out of Wavelab Studio in Tucson and recorded “Blood and Candle Smoke’’ with famed producer Craig Schumacher.

Russell likens the album, which he considers his best yet, to another example of “desert noir,’’ a dark-hued form of Americana (sorry, Tom) where the Southwestern landscape lends itself to the music, both in stark imagery and an arid textural palette.

At 56, Russell, a Los Angeles native who lives in El Paso, Texas, could have quietly made another quality record that played to his usual audience. Instead he saw “Blood and Candle Smoke’’ as a sea change, a crucial step to bolstering his profile at a time when other underdog songwriters of his caliber are content to be just that.

“It’s important for me because I don’t like stasis. I want to move forward and play to new audiences,’’ Russell says. “It has nothing to do with fame or fortune. We kissed that off a long time ago. I really figured that if I wanted to move up to, say, John Prine territory, as far as doing theaters, I’d have to come up with a great record.’’

And he did, conjuring a carnival of global sounds and songwriting tropes, from the mariachi tinges on “Santa Ana Wind’’ and “Nina Simone’’ (both featuring subtle horns from Calexico) to the Nigerian highlife guitar lines on “Criminology.’’

The new album continues the small-scale renaissance Russell’s music experienced last year when Shout! Factory released the double-disc “The Tom Russell Anthology: Veteran’s Day.’’ Much as 1990’s “The Bonnie Raitt Collection’’ compiled her early material and signaled she was moving in a new direction, Russell’s retrospective is an essential snapshot of the artist as a young man but not necessarily of his future. Russell looks back on those early days with brutal frankness, calling some of his first songs “a little cliched and hackneyed, like a guy who almost has it but isn’t quite there.’’

Russell is aware, maybe even sure, that many folks will be discovering him through this new album, some 30 years after he started making music. He’s OK with his reputation as a respected songwriter who’s been covered and heralded by Johnny Cash, Nanci Griffith, Dave Alvin, and Iris DeMent. He’s just careful not to exploit his high-profile connections.

“I don’t want to use people who are more famous than me to get famous, because I think the songs can carry the weight,’’ he says. “It’s part of the game you have to play when you’re not as known as other people. I’m glad I’m in the position I’m at. This seems to be a door opening for me, and it’s a lot more exciting that it’s happening now.’’

He acknowledges he hasn’t been the easiest artist to keep tabs on, either. Like a lost highway, Russell’s discography is dotted with left turns and detours, as if he’s been hellbent on trailing his muse wherever she leads him.

“This is something that’s been great for me and also hurt me: Every record seems to appeal to a different part of the media,’’ he says, “but that’s never mattered to my audience. I don’t tend to lose anyone from record to record.’’

Russell obviously takes his songwriting duties rather seriously. In a perfect world, in another 10 years, he’ll be regarded as one of the elder statesmen of songwriting, an heir to Kris Kristofferson and Guy Clark. Russell says he feels compelled to stay on track - obligated, even.

“There’s a lot of great young acts who are sonically pushing boundaries that are interesting, but at the core of it, I don’t hear the writing,’’ he says. “On the other hand, we have the masters out there - Dylan, Van Morrison, Merle Haggard, Leonard Cohen - filling rooms because young kids are now coming to the masters to hear well-written stuff.’’

And Russell’s fans look to him for that same reason. His songwriting has occasionally been informed by an almost journalistic sense of purpose. On 1999’s “The Man From God Knows Where,’’ Russell documented the experience of America’s early immigrants, a bold subject matter that had never been explored so astutely. “The bottom line is: All my songs, if they come from an artistic place, they come from my individual viewpoint,’’ Russell says.

Now, as he gears up to tour behind “Blood and Candle Smoke’’ for a full year, Russell sees it as one more challenge to getting where he has always wanted (and deserved) to be.

“I got in the ballgame a little late, and it’s taken me a while to find my equilibrium as a writer, but I feel I’ve got a bunch of records ahead of me,’’ he says. “I felt I did my homework. I got into it late, but now it’s paying off.’’

James Reed can be reached at jreed@globe.com.