Lyle Lovett and His Large Band
Jan. 17, Jubilee Auditorium, 8 p.m.
Tickets at ticketmaster.com

Lyle Lovett and I are old friends.

While we go back, maybe, 40-45 minutes, I feel like I know him well, thanks to his soulful music and genuine performance style, and with Lyle, what you hear is what you get.

“When I’m performing, I’m just being myself,” he says, with a soft Texas voice. “It is an immense privilege to be able to do that, you know, to not feel like you have to create a persona that’s bigger than yourself, something you’d have to live up to.  I feel so privileged to go out there and to be myself, and to be accepted for that.”

And Lovett has made quite a career out of just that: being Lyle Lovett. His music is a quirky brand of country-folk and bluegrass jazz, with a bit of swing and pop thrown into the mix — a style that is just as individual as the man himself. I ask him to settle the debate —  is he country, is he blues, is he folk, what is he?

“You know, it’s funny,” he says, “people who don’t generally like country music describe me as country, and country people, well, they think I’m something else, like blues or folk. I do like old country music, and that’s where some of my roots are, so I’m certainly influenced by country, but I like a lot of different kinds of music too.”

While Lovett’s musical style runs the gamut, he says his audiences are remarkably similar. “In all of my years of doing shows, I’ve found there’s quite a consistency in the people who come to hear me play,” he says. “Whenever I’ve had the good fortune to meet some of them afterwards, I find they’re people I’m drawn to, people I like. That’s another privilege — to get to perform for such nice people, people I enjoy getting to visit with. I think if you get to be yourself, and you’re comfortable being yourself, your audience is consistent with who you are.”

And Lovett’s music certainly seems consistent with who he is. On the phone, he’s funny and gentle and he makes me feel like we’re old friends getting caught up. And he tries to get to know me too. He asks where I grew up, and we both enthuse about the Alberta countryside and talk about Edmonton weather. He tells me about North Harris County, close to Houston, where he grew up and still lives on a section of his family’s farm.  He comes from a big, warm Texas family and is surrounded by cousins and aunts and uncles, and his mom lives down the road from his farmhouse.

 “I like to help out on the farm,” he says. “That’s one of the best parts of my day when I get to go help feed the cows and hang out with my cousins and the other guys, and sit on the tractor.”

But the music business fills most of his time, for better or for worse.  “I couldn’t imagine not being a musician. It’s been what I’ve been doing since I was 18 years old, and I’ve never had another job. But the job of being a musician keeps me very busy. I’m on the phone a lot, I’m on the computer a lot, so it’s a nice break away from all of that to hang out on the farm.”

I ask him what he’d be doing if he wasn’t a musician. “You know, I went to university because it was very important for me to get a degree so that I’d have something to fall back on,” his voice is wry for a moment. “You know, parents....  so I did my degree in journalism, because I’ve always liked to write and to tell stories.”

And so, as a master of finding common ground, Lovett then tells me about his stint on his university newspaper, where he covered the city hall beat. “You know, all that was very dry,” he says. “Not really what I wanted to write about, but it was good experience and good training. And helped me to never want to get involved in local politics.”

When we finally do get back to talking about music, I ask him about his latest CD, Natural Forces. This new release is something of an homage to his home state, in both thematic content, and in the songwriters he chose to cover, including such greats as Robert Earl Keen and Townes Van Zant. Not to mention a sweet little piece called “Pantry,” which he co-wrote with his girlfriend, April Kimble.  “I thought it would be fun,” he says of his sweetheart’s collaboration, “and it was.”

As he’s such an easy conversationalist, I decide to throw some completely random questions his way, the kinds of questions I like to ask my friends, because I’m preoccupied with details. And he humours me with grace.

Me: What colour of shirt are you wearing right now?

Him: (chuckles, somewhat apologetically) A grey sweatshirt.

Me: What did you eat for breakfast?

Him: Eggs and bacon.

Me: Do you remember any of your dreams from last night?

Him: No. I wish I did. I’m sure I dream as much as the next guy, but I don’t remember them.

Me: If you were a side dish, what kind of side dish would you be?

Him: (uproarious laughter) I wouldn’t be a side dish.

Me: Ok, then, what kind of main course would you be?

He’s silent for a minute, thinking. And then he deflects the question. “I’m sorry,” he says, suddenly more serious. “That would be too revealing.”

Ah, I see. A gentleman never tells, and a gentleman he is.