In a well-honed storyteller fashion, Snider uses his witty insights to shed light on situations he draws from real-life events. But, like any good folk singer, he's not afraid to address difficult subjects to give his take.

I had the chance to chat with Snider while he was out on a hike with a friend. As he enjoyed the recent unseasonably warm winter weather we've had in the Midwest (that party seems to be over), we discussed his influences, songwriting and his new record -- the first to contain original material in three years.

Snider appears as part of the Sheldon Sessions (sponsored by PNC Arts Alive) this Friday, January 13 at the Sheldon Concert Hall.

Scott Allen: You're on record as saying that seeing Jerry Jeff Walker made you want to be a songwriter. Which songwriters do you most admire?

Todd Snider: Well, Guy Clark, Kris Kristofferson, Billy Joe Shaver, John Prine and Jerry Jeff Walker are the people I've studied the most. (pauses) ... and Bobby Bare. Then, of course, Dylan and the Rolling Stones.

That sounds like a Mount Rushmore of artists for you. That's a nice list.

Yeah, that's my main group.

Is there a musician you'd like to work with that you haven't had the opportunity?

My fancy is to make up a song with Chuck Berry. He's probably my favorite all-time living songwriter. Then, I also have these other things. I'm a folk singer, but I'd love to try to help Marilyn Manson make up a song or somebody like that. Last summer I got to make some songs for a punk-rock band and I thought that was fun. So, somebody weird or a rapper or somebody that does something very different would be fun to me. Like ... Korn if they called or what's some band like that? Limp Bizkit. Some real heavy rock. (Pause) Metallica! That'd be a mother load.

There you go. You could follow up on that Lou Reed release they did last year.

I was excited to hear they were doing something together.

You started your career in Memphis, but these days you set up shop in Nashville.

Yeah, I always make sure to point out it's the east side of town. Because if somebody came to visit Nashville, I'd really encourage them to come to Little Five Points on the east side of town and just bang around those bars down there. There's about six of them. It's a really fun little community.

What is it about the Music City that keeps you there?

In other cities you really have to plan your sessions. When I first moved there I found it was really comforting to me instead of saying to everybody "I'm going to record on this day or that day" and we have to plan it and hire all these people. Really, in Nashville, you can walk to the studio, see if they're open and start calling. If you need to put a band together for a session today there's a bar called the 3 Crow. I guarantee I could go there right now and put together a pretty good band.

That does have its advantages.

You go to the 3 Crow and say, "Has anybody seen a fiddler today?" and they say, "There's one down at the Red Door," and you go down. And it's like the guy who plays for Dylan it's not [just some guy.] You look for a harmony singer and you might run into Gillian Welch or something.

Does that make it more advantageous than say the scene in Memphis?

Yeah, in Memphis, just by numbers, I'd say there's about 100 people who make a living making music. I still stay in touch with most of those people and love them. Yet, in Nashville there's thousands I bet. I like that on my street there's about four singer-songwriters. When I go for my walk to the bar I almost always hear a band rehearsing.

That's a nice feeling just to know there is a tight knit community and so many people out there making music.

Yeah, that's what makes you feel good. There's another thing that people like about my neighborhood or even when they get to Nashville [in general]. Where I grew up in Beaverton, Ore. when I would say, "I wanna be John Prine," they'd just laugh at you. That's not a realistic dream. When you get to my neighborhood or some of the other neighborhoods in Nashville -- or maybe New York or California are the same way -- you start to run into people. They want to be Johnny Cash too. It doesn't even matter if we don't become Johnny Cash; at least we all kind of know we don't feel stupid for having that dream.

What was the music scene in Portland like when you were growing up?

There was almost nothing. I remember in the '80s, down at the bar down the street from my house, I always saw a sign for Huey Lewis and the News. Then when I got to high school I saw them on television and I assumed it was the same. Then, there was some metal, I can't remember the [bands] (pause) … Quarterflash. In the '90s, by the time I got to Memphis, bands started to burst out of there. Now there are a ton of them.

How does it feel to be from a town with a strong music scene these days?

I wish I were a little more part of it. When I go to town I see all my old high school friends and I don't know any of those bands. I met Sleater-Kinney one time in Dallas. There is that other band, the Dandy Warhols, but they're old now. I kind of know them a little bit. But the kids and the young people I don't know. I wish I could go there and record some time and spend a couple of months getting to know the musicians there.

You've been a road warrior throughout your career. Roughly, how many dates do you play in a year?

It's gotten down to 100, but for years it was 200. I've just gotten older. I still like it, but my knees, back and throat don't as much as I do. My wires are starting to stick out like a Gumby doll. I still love it, but I just can't get around as well as I used to.

What are your impressions of your stops in St. Louis over the years?

I love St. Louis mostly because one of my favorite all-time bands is the Bottle Rockets. I love to see Brian [Henneman] and those guys when I come to town. Chuck Berry really is a lot of people's favorite songwriter -- Bob Dylan's all-time favorite songwriter. Three times I've come to town and I get out in the airport and here he comes walking down the thing and I yell, "I love you!" Anytime I can see Chuck Berry walking down the hallway I'm happy.

One time I was playing the Duck Room and he came in to the dressing room. I was sitting in there and he walked right in and I was so excited. He asks, "Are you the boy that's playing tonight?" I said, "Yes! I can't believe you're here." He replied, "Well, you have to move your van. I'm trying to get my Cadillac out of the back." Right before my show I had to move my van.

What kind of show can St. Louis fans expect on Friday night at the Sheldon? Are you playing a solo acoustic show or bringing some other players along?

I'll just be by myself this time. I think I only have about eight shows this month, and I'm doing them solo. Then, I go over to Europe and do four or five solo shows. I come back and starting in March I'm going to take a band out until September. We're going to do a lot of touring because we have a new record coming out March 6, I think.

A few months ago, word on the streets was you're working on a new album tentatively titled "Agnostic Hymns" about your dysfunctional family life. Obviously you've finished recording.

I added to it … Now it's called "Agnostic Hymns and Stoner Fables." It came out pretty good. I hope people like it. It's a bit different for me. Hopefully, not so much that people will be turned off, but if you are, check me out next time. I always change it up.

Where did you record?

Over at my buddy Eric [McConnell]'s house. The same place I made the records "East Nashville Skyline," "The Devil You Know" and "Peace Queer." I did my last three there. We made my record of my new songs with Eric a folk-rock record. The very next month, in April, another record comes out I made with [producer] Don Was and a band called the Great American Taxi from Boulder. It's all Jerry Jeff Walker songs. So there are two records coming in the spring, but only one has new songs on it that are mine.

What can you tell our readers about the songs?

I could describe them as stoner fables and agnostic hymns. There are some stories that go around the stoner world that I put rhymes to. There some songs that sing out about not knowing what happens when we die. One of my friends said it was angry for me, but it's still funny. I mean I think it's funny. It's hard for me to hear them when I get done with them. So much of it for me I don't really even get to control. You sort of just see what comes out of you and try not to be afraid I suppose. I've got about 10 songs. We recorded 12, but I really only like ten. One of them is a Jimmy Buffett song.

What kind of work ethic do you have? Do you sit down to write daily or just when the inspiration hits you? How does your songwriting process work?

I've always been someone who does it all the time. I read some book of Woody Guthrie's where he said something about how he never really stops. So, I write a lot -- everyday usually. For about a couple of weeks since we finished the record I've been trying to make myself not [write]. But for the most part I'm always typing something. It's almost like a nervous reaction, and not much of it leaves the house. Most of it I just leave in a pile someplace.

Just sort of a notebook and come back to it later and add some music to it?

Yeah, sometimes. A lot of times I'll make up a song and I'll know I'm not going to sing that song. But then, a year from now, I'll be working on another song and I'll realize, "That song you threw out had a line in it for this one." I'll see if it could keep going.

That reminds me of some of the stuff I've seen on Bruce Springsteen's process. He keeps these massive notebooks. You'd see all these lines of writing. Eventually, they'd end up on one page as the finished song. You could look back at the last 20 pages and there would be one of the lines there, but the rest of what he wrote was left on the cutting room floor.

That's a lot of how it works for me. I didn't know that about him. I'm a big fan of his stuff. You could go through my notebooks and every few pages you'd realize that line right there is from some song on one of the records.

You mentioned Woody Guthrie. This year is the centennial of his birth. How has his music influenced your songwriting?

I don't think I would have a job if it hadn't been for him. I think, at least in the sense of being someone who records this stuff, I'm sure that people were traveling around singing folk music before him, but he was one of the first people around when someone started making records of it. Myself and all my friends I know would say that he defined what that meant as someone who wanted to make up songs on the acoustic guitar, and to even to another degree the electric guitar.

Some people go the Hank Williams route, which is just "My heart is broken, and I'm going to share that with you." Period. Woody was like I've got that too, but also I'm concerned about the neighborhood and here's one about the potholes. Here's one about the union, here's one about politics, here's one about my kid and here's one about my love life. So I think Woody Guthrie -- if you're going to compare it to painting -- he's the palette. He the guy who decided what colors would be on there.

Your last album "Todd Snider Live: The Storyteller" showcases your obvious skills at spinning off a good yarn. Who would win in a storytelling contest, you or Arlo Guthrie?

Arlo would a million to one simply because I studied him. I'm already 45, but I'm not gonna get it. I'm pretty good, but I'm not going to be that. I've already given up, but that's what I'm trying to do. He got that from a guy named Ramblin' Jack Elliott who was a friend of his dad's. Ramblin' Jack is still out touring. Of course, he's getting older, but in my opinion on any given night he's still the best one. He's really good at getting up there with his guitar and telling you a 20-minute story that will have you laughing the whole time. I recommend going to see him before he goes to see Woody. Wherever we're going.

One of my favorite songs in your catalog is "Rocket Fuel." Is there a story behind that song?

I don't hear that much. At the time I was living in Memphis. Outside of Memphis there's a rough part of town called Frazier where they have this speakeasy bar that the band and I used to go to all the time. You could smoke weed in there. It was built in someone's back yard. I remember I got to know this guy -- his name was Moondog and I made up songs about him too. I made up a record called "Viva Satellite" and I mostly made up the songs at his bar. One day, I was sitting out there at about noon on a school day. I saw Moondog's 12-year-old nephew come bopping down the street with a couple of his friends. I knew they're supposed to be in school. Then, I went out and talked to them for a little bit and I could tell they were high on something. I went back into the bar. Moondog went in to do something and by the time he came out I had a bit of a rough draft of this song. I was trying to speak from the point of view of this kid whose name was Michael. He's probably in jail by now or Godspeed to him. Hopefully, he's married and has a kid, but he was off to a rough start. I was trying to speak for him. He told me when the song was done, "That's how I feel, man."

What keeps you busy besides music? Do you have any hobbies? What do you like to do? Hiking?

That's something I'm trying to do. Pretty much, man, I was a barfly and I'm trying to not be. Being honest, if I'm home from the road I tend to get up, work on my songs and then walk down to the bar to see who's down there. Now, I'm trying to hike. I read, but that's not exercise. I've been trying to do some more walking and things like that. All my hobbies are just awful -- gambling, drinking ...

Sounds like you have some things to keep your mind on task. Hopefully, we'll have your songs for the next 20, 30, 40 years and we'll hear more from Todd Snider in the future.

Yeah, knock on wood. For a couple of years now I've been walking pretty far every day and I can feel my lungs opening up. That helps, but I can't imagine myself going out and getting an outfit over the whole deal. That's where I draw the line. I don't want to go to that place and run in place, because you have to have some kind of pants.

88.1 KDHX and the Sheldon present Todd Snider, sponsored by PNC Arts Alive, on Friday, January 13.