Singer songwriter Todd Snider has a story — or two — to tell at the Turner Hall Ballroom on March 18

Sometimes you hear a story that’s stranger than fiction. Todd Snider is full of them.

It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what genre of music Snider belongs to. He’s been performing a blend of Americana, alternative country, rock and roll and folk rock for years. But regardless of what style he’s channeling at the time, Snider is an avid storyteller.

He’s brutally honest on the phone about the “dope” that he smoked earlier, but he also assures me that not everything he says is the whole truth. It’s an essential part of who Snider is as a storyteller as he spins tales of his debauchery on the road and partying in his neighborhood in Nashville. Maybe things didn’t transpire exactly the way that Snider claims they did — but the audience is on the edge of their seats, laughing and taking in every detail.

Snider is a character ripped straight from a rock and roll drama — he’s shamelessly partied and performed across the country so much that he can no longer drink at the age of 51. On top of releasing his own solo records, Snider has released albums as part of the super group Hard Working Americans. He also claims to have an alter-ego who performs under the moniker Elmo Buzz & the Eastside Bull Dogs — a disguise that Snider created to avoid violating clauses in Nashville that prevent artists from performing near a venue 90 days before or after a show.

In 2016, Snider released Eastside Bulldog, co-produced by Snider and long-time friend and Grammy award-winning Eric McConnell. The album takes listeners along for a ride with Snider on a night out in east Nashville.

In anticipation for his upcoming performance in Milwaukee at the Turner Hall Ballroom on March 18, I discussed with Snider the death of his alter-ego, his stint as a cartoon lobster on Adult Swim and his storytelling process.

So, I read that you have an alter-ego — Elmo Buzz. What’s he all about?

He’s dead. He died in a knife fight. But Elmo Buzz and the Eastside Bull Dogs still exists, and I look exactly like him. That’s where that feud started. He hated me, and so I never spoke to him. He talked behind my back a lot. There was this band, they had saxophone, background singers and stuff like that. I love that kind of music, but he hated my kind of music so we’re not friends. But now that he’s dead, I sit in and jam with that band sometimes.

Your last album Eastside Dog was released in 2016. What have you been up to since?

I’ve been working on songs. I made up about 20 but I only like about eight. I don’t know if I have the songs yet for an album, but we are a few songs away. I chase songs around all night. I’m always in one way or another looking for something to sing about. I do it around the clock. I got up this morning, started working on lyrics, smoked some dope and started making some music. I don’t really do other stuff. Sometimes I go to east Nashville and look for adventures to sing about.

You enjoy telling stories on stage and off. Do you have any stories about being in Milwaukee?

One time, a guy waited in line to hit me. One of the first times I’ve ever been hit I think. People were in line for my autograph and then one guy just got up and without saying anything hit me right in the face. I never found out why. I’ve been up there so many times. I can’t drink anymore. I drink too much. I’m 51, I still smoke weed, I’d drink if I could.

What makes a good story and how do you translate that into a song?

In my mind I used to always think I had this way of traveling and finding this party or that party, always looking for a story. I always took it on like that. You’re in San Francisco looking for a story to tell in Texas. Passing on stories and legends of people — that kind of stuff. I’m always just waiting for that one when I’m on the road, looking for something to tell my friends about and putting that right back into the gig.

You wrote and recorded much of Eastside Bulldog on the spot with free studio time. How did that process come about?

We had rules about what we thought a song could be, like it can’t be slow. We don’t do slow stuff. It can’t be about the environment, it’s got about chicks or being f***ed up or kickass cars or partying. That’s it. That’s what we sing about. There are two weird asides: we sing about our neighborhood and for some reason Hank Williams Jr. We have perimeters as to what songs could be and then just go for it. Punk rock bands do it like this. It’s like free styling over old rock and roll chords.

Do you do a lot of improvising during your live shows?

Sometimes during those talking blues type songs, or in between songs. Richard Lewis is a comedian that doesn’t use a script. Part of what got me into jam bands was that even though it was just guitar solos, they didn’t have a script. I was interested in that. I enjoy picking some songs that I’ve never really talked about and start talking about them and see if turns into something interesting and in that way its kind of like a jam band song. There are some tricks to it that I can apply to telling stories. But I don’t know, I haven’t done that (laughs). I’ve made a mental note to try it someday. I just get stoned and then it happens.

You worked on the Adult Swim cartoon Squidbillies. How did that come about?

Its written by three guys that are friends of Hard Working Americans. That’s how I met them. They’re into our brand of music. They have a different person singing the theme song all the time. They asked if I wanted to sing one, so we got baked in Atlanta and I ended up playing some characters last minute. It was a lot of fun.

You’re at the point of your career that you’ve written a memoir. I read that there were possibly plans for a second. Is that still happening?

I’d like to. I need to. There’s a bunch of shit that needs resolve, but it doesn’t feel like the time to do it yet. The guy who helped me write (the first memoire) said the same thing. It needs a few years of living — a few more years of being on the road.

What was it like working with Grammy-winner Eric McConnell on Eastside Bulldog?

He’s the hub of our neighborhood over there. Usually if you make a record, you have to play the songs for a record company and if they like them they give you the money to record them. I didn’t want to do that process and I just wanted to make my record. Eric took that gamble and said, “we’ll just make the record”. It ended up being really good for everybody, but he was the reason that I got to make it without anyone knowing. If you make a record, it becomes an event. I’d just go over to his house. We would usually find someone else to play on it at the bar next door. They would be tipsy and had five minutes to think about it to come record drums. We made some great friends that way. That ended up really working for me and being a bonding moment for the neighborhood. We had everyone write down their names and promised them money if the record label liked it. Everybody was like “f**k It I don’t care if we don’t get paid” and that party never really ended. It’s still kind of going on.

What can fans expect from you at the Turner Hall on March 18?

Total unprofessionalism. More like when your uncle plays guitar at your party than like a concert. I’ll just play through them songs and have a long night of bullshit.

Listen to a track off of Snider’s latest album Eastside Bulldog below and visit http://pabsttheater.org/event/toddsnider2018/ for more information on his upcoming show at the Turner Hall Ballroom on March 18. Tickets are $25 in advance and $28.50 at the door. Show starts at 8 p.m.