With an illustrious career that includes 23 studio albums (the first recorded in 1969), four live albums, 10 compilation albums and four soundtracks, Leo Kottke is returning to Port Townsend.

The guitarist is known for filling the time between songs – played with his unique finger-picking style – with humorous monologues. He plays a solo concert at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday, May 21 at McCurdy Pavilion, Fort Worden State Park. Tickets, $17-$37, are available through

centrum.org or by calling 800-746-1982.

The show is presented by UpWest Arts and Centrum.

The Leader recently caught up with Kottke to get his take on Port Townsend, his music and his comedic streak.

Leader: You’ve been to Port Townsend before. What brings you back?

Kottke: Bill Kiely [of UpWest Arts], the promoter. If I didn’t enjoy performing, I probably wouldn’t walk out the front door. Bill and I have done a lot of jobs together. I always look forward to his gigs. If he’d pay me, I’d feel even better.

What’s your favorite place to visit in PT? Favorite restaurant? Hotel?

Well, it would be unwise to mention the hotel because of the hordes wanting a lock of my hair. Same with the restaurant. And no matter where I am, I usually don’t do anything except the playing. That’s more than enough for me. The country I get to visit by way of guitar is just about the only one I’m comfortable in. If I’m not playing, I’m wondering why I’m not playing. I’m a living, breathing tautology. I’m a guitar hermit.

What are you planning for your PT show – old music, new music?

I don’t really plan. Soloists are better off if they don’t know what they’re about to do. Keeps it scary, which keeps it interesting.

Everyone says you are funny onstage. Why do you choose to incorporate humor?

Oh, c’mon. I talk so I can find out what to play next. If I don’t speak, I can get sort of drooly. When I play alone, for myself, I can play one bar for an hour. That won’t do on stage. When you’re up, you have to appear to be doing something, going somewhere.

How has fame affected you?

Very little, in keeping with the dimensions of my fame. Having seen what fame does to people who are famous, I wouldn’t want any more of it. It’s an awful fate to be famous, one of the worst. It’s a kind of living death. Look at Donald Trump, does he look alive to you?

Do you have any advice for aspiring musicians?

Don’t do it unless you have to. It’s a genuine commitment, also a kind of trap; that is, all jobs leave a mark, but this one leaves it on other people. On the other hand, if your playing never becomes your job, you can hold any kind of day job and still have all you need. If you like to play, nothing comes close.

Would you every consider leaving music for standup comedy?

Never. That’s a very tough, very brave way to go. And it’s the guitar I’m drawn to. Because of that, I can be silent as much as I like; no one has to get a laugh. The reason I started talking to crowds was because something cracked me up one night and when I was done laughing I knew what I needed to play next. Knowing what wants to be played is much, much better than not knowing where the hell you are.

Do you have an insurance plan for your hands?

I did for a while, with Lloyd’s of London. They were the only people who would insure them. And they would only do it up to the palm, joint by joint: the closer to the palm, the greater the premium. (This is why I know the back of the hand is called the opisthenar.) When I got tendonitis, my policy didn’t cover it. So I healed myself and left Lloyd’s to struggle along on its own.

What would you do if you woke up one morning and your hands had mysteriously disappeared?

Become a drummer.

Quick, pick one: six-string or 12-string guitar?

Baroque lute. If I were starting today, I think that would probably be where I’d go. On the other hand, assuming I still have a hand or two, Robert Barto is already fully inhabiting that instrument. His continuing project of Silvius Leopole Weiss recordings is peerless. As a lutenist, I’d never have the need to play what I need to hear since I can just listen to Barto’s discs. With the guitar, when I began, no one was doing the kind of thing I wanted to hear. They’d hint at it, but were more interested in other realms. I think I gravitated to the 12 [string] because of its lutey qualities, sort of a rude lute.

Any plans for future recordings? Performances?

There’s several possibilities for the next recording. Nothing has solidified yet, but it will. Always does. Jerry Douglas and I are thinking we might make one in the fall. I might do a solo unit before that and flood the market; I’ve ignored the record business long enough, might as well overdo the reunion.

Interviewed by Renae Reed, via email.