Anders Osborne, Amy Helm at Ardmore Music Hall

Anders Osborne may have been born in Sweden, but since arriving in New Orleans in 1985 - where he's now part of Louisiana's firmament - he's become one of the sturdiest, much-loved voices of rough-and-tumble Americana, buoyant blues and MOR rock.

Recording plucky albums like 2013's Peace, being a pal-participant to Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh, playing Ardmore Music Hall on Saturday with Amy Helm - herself, a scion and patron saint of Nu-Americana as the daughter of the late, legendary Levon Helm - all show what Osborne has become since landing in the United States. What exactly he is, presently - at least in Ardmore - relied heavily on that aforementioned middle-of-the-road tag.

While "Lafayette" sounded his earnest voice and an organ's circus-ish bounce to start the proceedings (handsomely, too) and neared set's close with the hellishly hollow, twin-guitar scowl of "Darkness at the Bottom," much of what was in-between was so straight-laced and plain you could rest a level on it. Osborne & Co. rolled competently through hushed Dead and banal Neil Young covers, spieled through overly serious jazz-rock licks during "Love Is Taking its Toll" and made unfortunate white reggae moves on "Marmalade." Oy.

What was intriguing and crisply unique were his plain-spoken, world-weary glances at the existential crises that plague (and occasionally please) us. With little more than quiet percolating blues riffs behind him, Osborne's "Fool's Gold" dealt with a jaded litany of used-tos. "I used to write lyrics that gave me this courage/it was not that terrific/ but it got me laid/I used to be sexy/ now everything vexes me and nothing impresses me/except getting paid." If Osborne's musicality was as notably idiosyncratic as his words and the manner in which he vocalized them, he'd have been magical. Instead, he was OK.

Amy Helm & the Handsome Strangers' full-blooded arrangements - fired-up by dynamic Dan Littleton, a whiz at fuzztone acoustic guitar play - were exquisite as they rolled through the gospel metal of Sam Cooke's "(Ain't That) Good News" and a spare, mandolin-fueled folky take on Springsteen's "Atlantic City." While her Stones-y band touched upon Orleans' Parish rhythms and free psychedelic hucklebuck, Helm's soft, strong voice - think Bonnie Raitt Lite - gave blues power to the likes of "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" (a winsome tune long performed by her pop) and the blowsy "Rescue Me." The most impressive merging of her clarion voice and her band's rural, rhythm-heavy husk was their cover of Ann Peebles' "I Can't Stand the Rain" and its funky, clucky groove.