The first time I saw Philly musician Kurt Vile was when he played a sold-out show at Strange Matter (rest in peace, Twisters) back in 2012. If memory serves, I went to that show on the recommendation of a friend, not knowing much about his music except that it was on Matador Records and it was critically acclaimed.

My first impression that night was that his songs were almost aggressively laid-back; and Vile seemed perfectly comfortable standing in the spotlight playing them, as if they were a pair of old, weathered Chuck Taylors kept alive with duct tape. Most somehow sounded both simple and expansive with half-sung, half-spoken lyrics capable of the occasional poetic zinger, and ramshackle guitar solos that were ragged but expressive. However, I didn’t get a true sense of his songwriting appeal until he played the song, “On Tour,” which stopped the noisy room in its tracks. It seemed to encapsulate his ability to conjure golden-haze melodies with his slacker vocal drawl, open tunings and intricate finger-picking style, which apparently formed on banjo before he learned guitar.

Since that show over a decade ago, Vile has scored a catchy viral hit with the song “Pretty Pimpin’” (the official video has reached over 21 million views), opened for his hero, Neil Young, as well as playing onstage with Pavement, David Byrne, Steve Earle and Terry Allen, and being interviewed by fans like Frank Black, while other admirers such as actor/musician Michael Shannon appear in his videos.

Also Vile and his band, the Violators, kept returning to Richmond to play larger shows, first at Brown’s Island then at the National, where they will perform this Saturday, May 11 behind their latest compilation album, “Back to Moon Beach” (Verve). Also on the bill is the young Philly band, Florry, led by singer-songwriter Francie Medosch, whose latest album “The Holey Bible” sounds like raw, twangy fun in a countrified Half-Japanese, half-Holy Modal Rounders-way. They appear possessed by the spirit in this video for “Drunk and High,” which features drunken CVS shopping for urinary tract meds, bottles and butts being shot with BB guns, and some welcome pedal steel in there somewhere.

Style recently caught up with Vile by phone from Philly and chatted about his recent return to his roots with home recording, as well as some of his longtime influences and how his approach to playing live has changed since the pandemic.

Style Weekly: I was just writing in the introduction that the first time I saw you play was a small, crowded bar show at Strange Matter back in 2012. I can still remember you playing that song “On Tour,” and you could hear a pin drop in that place. Beautiful version.

Kurt Vile: Oh, thanks … I love Richmond, they got it early on. I’m glad that they get my music, you know? Not everybody has to … I think I may have played on the radio last time I was there. It’s hard to remember.

Your old friend, Mike [Polizze] from Purling Hiss, told me yesterday that you’ve been doing a lot more recording at home. How are you liking your new setup?

Yeah, I have various zones where I record. But that’s where I come from, the bedroom recording tradition, I guess by necessity. First you have friends recording you, then you’re forced to learn how to do it yourself. I think my first wave of thriving on home recording equipment was my digital 8-track while I was by myself. You add a bunch of effects and things because it sounds cool, and also because, if it’s just totally clean, it sounds a little sterile when you’re young with limited chops, working on a machine.

It’s been my dream to upgrade whatever my [studio] rig in Philadelphia is. That was in progress before the pandemic hit, but once it did, we were going hardcore with it. I was like, ‘Thank god we did this.’ Me and my bandmate Adam Langellotti built it together. He’s an old friend who built my studio and then joined the band through just being around. We use [the home studio] all the time, we recorded half of “Watch My Moves” (2022) on there, half of “Back to Moon Beach” (2023) and I’ve been using it a lot lately by myself. Adam ended up moving back to Massachusetts, so I have to steer the ship myself now. When the band gets together to rehearse, we record some. Any toolman needs his toolkit, you know? I’m fucking 44-years-old, I go out on tour and then I come home. One day you realize you’re gone all the time …

It’s funny because I was just joking with Adam that it’s like hi-fi “Constant Hitmaker” now [Vile’s debut studio album from 2008]. I’m not using a bunch of plug-ins or moving things around, or chopping things perfectly, so it kind of sounds like old KV, except I’ve been around the world a few more times, you know? I can play guitar and sing in my sleep, so sometimes it’s laid back, but at least it’s basically on key. Even if it’s a little off beat, it doesn’t fucking matter. That’s why I love not playing to a click [track], stuff like that. That’s what I’m into these days. For awhile, you go by all the rules, putting recordings on a grid and moving everything because it’s not perfectly in sync. One day I just got fucking sick of it. Back in the day, I didn’t worry about that and it was liberating. Now I’m in control when I have to be [laughs].

Do you have any new songs ready for the next album?

Yeah, I’m literally always recording. Our last run ended in Athens, Georgia, and we recorded at our drummer Kyle Spence’s studio. He recorded some of the key tracks on “Believe I’m Goin Down” and we hadn’t been back down there since then. There’s also a good chunk of songs that didn’t make the last couple records that are contenders [for the next album]. But yeah, I have tons of new songs that we started. I think I’m going to treat this record like my last record. It’s not going to be – but I don’t know when I’m going to finish it. I’ll put things out on the side here and there, but I guess I’ll just say I’m working hard on a new album, and I have no idea how long it will take. Could be years, could be a year. I’m just going to keep going on-and-off the road.

Nothing wrong with that. The latest song of yours I’ve been playing is “Touched something (caught a virus).” I read that was supposed to be on the last full-length, but you guys were worried about the virus reference during the pandemic?

Yeah, yeah, exactly. That really came together at Stinson Beach at the very end of the “Bottle It In” tour, and the band played at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco at Golden Gate Park, which is my favorite festival. Then I went with my bandmate Rob Laakso up to Stinson Beach to Panoramic [House] Studios and met up with Cate Le Bon and my old friend Stella Mozgawa from Warpaint, great drummer, and Chris Cohen, I loved his solo music so much, so he was in it, and Adam. You know, I wrote that song maybe a year or less before the pandemic. I guess it’s a charming hypochondriac kind of song. But it came together live right in the studio, very organic.

It’s got to be the prettiest song to ever reference the Dead Milkmen.

[Laughs] Oh, I’m glad you got that reference. Totally. Yeah [one of the lyrics] actually came from a line in another song that never saw the light of day. I say, “man, I got a migraine, the glorious pain.” Then I realized that’s a straight reference from “You got a earwig/it’s crawling toward your brain/ you got an earwig/the glorious pain” [from the Dead Milkmen song, “Earwig”].  So yeah, I namedropped Rodney [Linderman]. Philly pride.

Speaking of your influences, Neil Young and Crazy Horse are playing Northern Virginia the same night as your Richmond show at the National.

You know what’s crazy, the next night I’m seeing Neil and Crazy Horse essentially in Philly, across the river in Camden, New Jersey. I didn’t know he was playing Virginia the same night as me though. I’ve actually got sweet bookend shows with this tour. I’m seeing Oneohtrix Point Never in New York and then I fly straight to tour, and at the end of the tour I go straight to Neil. My favorite old school rockers and my favorite new school music.

Last time I saw Neil was solo in Portland, Oregon in 2019, and he did “Expecting to Fly” and “Flying on the Ground is Wrong” both on piano, which was my favorite segment of the show. I wonder how it would sound if you played “Touched something” on piano?

Oh wow, interesting. I could definitely play it solo acoustic. I don’t know if I could pull it off on piano. But I also have a new bandmate, Matt, maybe he could play piano and I could play acoustic. We’ll see. I’ll try to remember that for you if you’re going to be there [laughs].

Oh man [laughs] … Another recent song of yours that stuck with me was “Cool Water.” I noticed on YouTube that you sing the chorus pretty differently live, right? Is that something you do with a lot of songs?

Well, I think with certain songs, they’re so simple. Once I have a band behind me with drums, if the song is simple, it’s hard to sing the melody the same exact way without sounding bored. I think it also has to do with how you project when a band is behind you. [Also] you’re forced to play it on the road every night and it evolves. But yeah, that song and “Touched something” are very similar, recorded in late fall or early winter of 2019 right before shit hit the fan with the pandemic. They both have that similar organic, country-tinged Americana.

I think it was you who turned me onto that Don Cherry album, “Om Shanti Om” – that one is nice. What have you been listening to lately?

Oh yeah, that’s super-good. Lately, I’ve been listening to all kinds of stuff. So much that I forget. But lately in my car, I’ve been listening to the Smiths. Morrissey’s lyrics are violent but beautiful. Everybody holds their parts down. Johnny Marr, his guitar is unbelievable. But definitely my favorite modern artist is Oneohtrix Point Never – and my favorite modern song of all time is “Krumville,” that’s my favorite of all-time right now [laughs].

I’m assuming your latest compilation holds a special place in your heart because it was the last to feature musical contributions from your friend, Rob Laakso? [He died last year from cancer at 44]

For sure, we dedicate it to him in the album art. There are some great candid photos that Cate Le Bon captured. All that stuff is crazy and close to the bone. I’ve had a few righthand men in my music, Adam [Granduciel] from War on Drugs was one, when he was in the Violators. I feel like there are people throughout my life that I collaborate with, and although Rob didn’t live in the same city, he was definitely that guy when we were out working. We got deep in it … Life’s crazy that way. It’s unfortunate, but that’s where we’re at.

There’s another song on there that involves grieving, “Tom Petty’s gone (but tell him I asked for him)” which nods to departed singer-songwriter David Berman [Silver Jews] … I’m sure you know Bob [Nastanovich] from Pavement, he’s from Richmond. He turned me onto Berman’s great last record (“Purple Mountains”). Such a sad story there. “Nights That Won’t Happen.” Actually, I was supposed to go see him play with one of his old college friends from UVA, but exactly one week before that DC show, he committed suicide. I don’t think that tour ever got started. Were you and Berman friends also?

Yeah, he knew I was a fan. I got to visit him with my family when I came through Nashville a couple times, got to know him and his wife Cassie. He also sent me the “Purple Mountains,” asking me which way I would listen to it more, and I said, “CD.” But yeah, [David] is a hero and he knew that he was a hero to a lot of people … but he was sad … Once it happens, you’re like, “of course.” But you just wish you could’ve talked to him every day … Actually, I saw Bob speak at David’s funeral and it was such a good speech. He’s such a good speaker, funny and down to earth. He could be anything, but he’s everything all at once. It was real, he made people laugh.

[Other songwriting] influences of yours include everyone from John Prine and Neil Young to J. Mascis and lesser-known folks like Terry Allen, who I saw you wrote a blurb about for the huge new book about him (“Truckload of Art”) by Brendan Greaves, founder of Paradise of Bachelors record label. What is it about Terry’s work that you like the most?

What I like about Terry is similar to a lot of those guys where their lyrics really pull you in. First things first, you gotta have good songs. Terry has those songs where he plays a hypnotic groove, similar in his own way to what I latch onto a lot, which is a repetitive piano groove that’s pretty. Then he tells his stories. He’s got a great voice and timbre, but he adds spoken word and like, tape loops. He’s also a great visual artist and blends so many arts together. At first you’re like, “oh, I like this song, it makes me laugh.” But his lyrics often go from funny to violence like a classic American novel or Southern Gothic. He grows on you. He’s a national treasure; a character. His albums “Juarez” and “Lubbock (On Everything)” are the classics but equal and probably my favorite is “Pedal Steel.”

I bought the “Lubbock” CD years ago, but that’s the only one I have.

Oh, you gotta get “Juarez.” You’ve seen that picture of him on the cover of the book and the album. That photo of him, I think his wife Jo Harvey took it, that was the theory. That strangely encapsulates who he is … “Today’s rainbow is tomorrow’s tamale.”

I read somewhere that you used to be uncomfortable looking out at the crowd and would hide behind your hair. It reminded me of J. Mascis in the early ‘90s, you never once saw his face during shows. He was basically Cousin It up there. How’d you get over that?

I think it was just, you gotta go out there every day and figure it out. Also, the band struggles with you. I’ve always been elusive to technology, so I had a lot of growing pains. In the early days, we were raw and punk – I’m using that term loosely – and that was cool. We had to go out there and do it ourselves. Then eventually we had a hit song, “Pretty Pimpin’” and we started playing these bigger theaters but we definitely did not have our technical shit or show production together. Everybody expected this poppy thing out there, but we’d come out pretty raw and frustrated … I feel like it was toward the end of the “Bottle It In” tour, just from truckin’ along, that I started looking out there [at the crowd].

I think having a little perspective after the pandemic, anybody who’s there knows they want to be there. I feel like that, for a lot of people, is what the pandemic did. Now you really think about: Do you want to be somewhere or not? Because you don’t have to be anywhere, you could just be at home. So I feel that in the audience. I look out at the audience and feel like we’re all on the same page.

You know, it also makes me think of something Willie Nelson said toward the end of one of his books, it was the best, he said: “What do I do when I go to a crowd? I just look at one person and light them up, and then I go to the next person, until the whole room is with you.” I think that’s where it’s at, you just have to connect.

I joke, but it’s true: The crowd is the like the final instrument.

Kurt Vile and the Violators perform with Florry at the National on Saturday, May 11. Doors are at 7 p.m. and show is at 8 p.m.