At first glance, Steve Wynn seems preposterously out of place. Dressed in black, wearing aviator shades, and standing on what appears to be the dust-dry dirt of the Arizona desert with cacti sprouting like alien life forms behind him, he looks like a guy who’s just been plucked from a New York City sidewalk and plopped down in the middle of an alternate universe. Which, of course, he has.

The occasion for this juxtaposition of worlds is Wynn’s terrific new Here Come the Miracles (Innerstate/Blue Rose), a 19-track double album that marks the songwriter’s productive return to the hallowed artistic ground of his Dream Syndicate days. (The disc also sees the revival of his long-defunct Down There imprint.) Miracles was recorded not in New York or Los Angeles — his usual stomping grounds — but among Tucson’s parched landscapes and wide open spaces, where he was joined by Giant Sand’s Howe Gelb and Calexico’s John Convertino along with his usual cohort (drummer Linda Pitmon, bassist Dave DeCastro, former Green On Red keyboardist Chris Cacavas, and, later in New York, Come guitarist Chris Brokaw). And despite the disc-jacket photos of Wynn seeming bewildered by his sun-blasted surroundings, Miracles offers a portrait of a man who’s anything but. It’s his most assured work in years, a dazzling display of inspiration, intent, and execution that, from the opening garage-fuzz guitar notes of the title track, recalls the nocturnal grandeur of Dream Syndicate’s 1982 landmark LP, The Days of Wine & Roses (Rough Trade).

“This is the first record I’ve made where I’ve really just wanted to go back and take stock and have a record that went back to my roots and not be afraid of it — and not feel I was just retreading old ground,” Wynn explains over the phone from Cologne, where he’s in the final stretch of a nine-week, 50-city European tour. “I think Miracles sounds more like me than any record I’ve ever done. It’s such an obvious thing to want to do — to make a record that’s close to your own personality — but it’s also the hardest.” You can hear him grappling with the desire to revisit his history on “Shades of Blue,” where he sings of being “drowned in wine and roses”: “Now I try to draw a line to here back from the better times/I lose myself in words and rhymes/And if we have our wits and want to travel back in time/We may amaze ourselves with all the things we’ll never find.”

In order to recapture the simmering psychedelia and noisy abandon that informed his early work, Wynn decided he had to break from a recording routine that had become professional, predictable, and safe. Tucson seemed an ideal contrast, as did the thought of working with members of Giant Sand, whom he affectionately describes as “a great band but a chaotic band.” He continues, “Letting things happen naturally is something I don’t always do that well, because I’m very manic and very work-oriented and always searching for something and using every bit of concentration and energy to get to it. This record wasn’t like that. This record was easy to make. This record had three-hour dinners and short days and people dropping by and hanging out and a lot of laughs. It was the most anti-work-ethic record I’ve ever made. The funny thing is, for all that messing around, I end up with a double album and the most productive session I’ve ever had.”

Indeed, Miracles was made in 10 idea-and-improvisation-fueled days. Wynn went with what felt good and never looked back. “Sometimes it’s the mistakes that make a record great, which is why a lot of people make their best records when they’re starting: they have no idea what ‘good’ actually is, they have no idea of the way you’re supposed to make records. And because of that, you’re fearless.” The Days of Wine & Roses, he recalls, was made in five hours.

Wynn hadn’t planned on releasing Miracles as a two-CD set — it was only after the band had cracked open a bottle of tequila and were listening to what they had on the final night of recording that the idea hit him. “I spent the next month trying to cut it down to a single album, and every time I would reduce it to 12 songs, it got worse rather than better. It had so many moods that making it a shorter record made it seem like it had no focus. But as a double album, it felt like it had this great sprawl. It felt like where we were — it felt like the desert.”

Steve Wynn shares the bill with Richard Lloyd at T.T. the Bear’s Place this Monday, June 18. Call (617) 492-BEAR.