"God bless Chuck Prophet."

That line, written by none other than the man who gave us "The Shining" and "Carrie," may prompt people to wonder, "Who is Chuck Prophet?"

The answer is, Prophet is the kind of guy who would be more of a household name if he came around in the healthier radio days of the '60s and '70s.

As a teenager in the mid-'80s, Prophet, a native of Whittier, Calif., went north to San Francisco and ended up joining Arizona's Green on Red, one of the principles in the so-called Paisley Underground scene. One would have expected frontman Dan Stuart to emerge from that band with the more prolific career, but it's Prophet who has created a niche for himself in the Americana scene.

Along with his popularity on formats like WYEP, Prophet was drawn critical acclaim (from more than just Stephen King), was hand-picked to tour with Lucinda Williams (they played Hartwood Acres together) and has had his songs covered by the likes of Solomon Burke, Kim Richey and Heart.

Prophet, who plays Media Tonic 3 Friday night at Pittsburgh Filmmakers, is on tour with "Soap and Water," a quirky and textured album from a singer-songwriter at his peak. Over 12 loosely grooving songs, Prophet shows off the type of vocal swagger he obviously picked up from his Dylan, Rolling Stones and even Jonathan Richman albums.

On the heels of "Soap and Water," Prophet also issued "Dreaming Waylon's Dreams," his own song-by-song take on Waylon Jennings' classic outlaw country record.

Late last week, Prophet offered some insight on what was driving these two records.

There's a real spontaneity to "Soap and Water." What kind of approach did you take? I guess it was to be spontaneous ...

No, just to come off like that. [Laughs.] No. I mean, as a songwriter I sometimes get a song in one burst of inspiration. But not enough, believe me. I tend to pour the songs from beaker to beaker. I think the real reward is you got a song that can stand up for itself. The real reward is kicking it around and bending and breaking it a little bit with a group of musicians and trying to find the arrangement for it. We kick the songs around and once we find something, we just roll the tape. It's always shape-shifting up until the red light.

You're generally grouped with Americana artists, and yet it seems like the music is hard to categorize ...

I've made more than a few records at this point and I've always gone about it trying to make the kind of the record that I would like. That hasn't always worked. I know it's not particularly European. I wouldn't call it Americana, but I wouldn't call it European. I just kind of listen to the songs and what their needs are and try to play my way through it.

Were there certain records that you had in mind when you were making this record?

I think the records I return to have been ones like "London Calling" by The Clash. That record. Some Prince records. Lou Reed, bands like Art Brut and Jonathan Richman. With the Clash, here was a band that represented this movement out of England, but at the same time they had horns and were playing ska music and American music and, with a twinkle in their eye, had a straight-up disco song called "Train in Vain." I think it's cool to make music from different [genres], but I think it's cool to know what time it is. I've experimented with hip-hop and things that may sound dated in a very few years, but I always try to dip my bucket into whatever I'm hearing just in the air. I think of like the Stones with country music and disco and what was in the air.

I was talking to a friend and he said he can't stop playing it, that he likes it because it has a beginning, middle and end.

Yeah, I guess it's kind of appallingly unfashionable to think in terms of an album in this day and age, but I still think that way. And these albums are not necessarily just the best songs laying around. Sometimes there are a couple things there that are spontaneous and not particularly melodic. They sort of break from it. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting beat over the head by people with their records.

You mean trying to make every song sound like some souped-up hit?

Yeah, I need that stuff between bites of sushi just to sort of clear my head. I look now at my record and see things like "Down Time" and realize that was never going to win a songwriting competition, but it sat in there and you could sort of feel the wind blowing through it. It makes the record feel like more of a journey.

Yeah, that is an important part of what makes it an album. If you look back at Beatles, Stones or Dylan records, they weren't just collections of singles.

Yeah, especially, if you listen to "Blonde on Blonde," you get "Visions of Johanna" -- where they talk of him as the master painter -- but you also get "Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat." One of the disappointments for me of watching "Walk the Line" is that Johnny Cash is portrayed as this really intense dude without really seeing any of the playful side or humorous side. I guess for the sake of the filmmakers they just wanted to show him as this really intense guy.

Speaking of country legends, what prompted the Waylon Jennings project?

We've all invented some colorful stories to go along with the record, which are probably more interesting than the truth. But the truth is, I was in the studio with some friends and we got into a conversation about that record and how great it was and I started bragging that I could perform that whole album from start to finish from memory. And we got about three songs into it and we got into a fever and we ended up downloading the lyrics from the Internet and recorded the whole album. It was sort of an art project and kind of a dare.

But now that I think of it, there's more to it than that. On a more serious note, I know it was the record I was listening to in the dark when I was making my first solo record. I know Peter Blackstock of No Depression said, "Chuck, as much you've run screaming from the roots-rock building like it was on fire, it's not like you won't return to country music." So, in a way, he was right.

You've been covered by such divergent artists: Solomon Burke, Heart, Peter Wolf. Are there covers that stand out to you as particularly good? And has that helped fuel your career?

I've had to do a lot of little things to make a living. Sometimes I don't even know if I'm making a living. My sister does my taxes, and she's like, "How are you getting by?" It's definitely been a payday. Some of them have been co-writes like the one with Peter Wolf, which is going to be on his new album. Listening to Heart, for example, do "No Other Love," that was so unreal. I think Ann Wilson's voice was so much a part of my DNA. For me, it was like hearing Elvis do it or something. I got so excited when I heard that I went out and bought track suit. And I don't even run or anything.

You've done a reunion or two with Green on Red. What's the status of your relationship with them and what keeps you guys from doing more?

I mean it's family so it's got all that built-in drama. But we'll do whatever. We talked a little about playing some gigs this summer -- we were going to do a week of shows in Texarkana -- but it didn't work out. We try to make everything an event. We're just trying to keep it interesting. If we got back in, and just toured the bars with the same set, I don't think we would be able to stay interested enough.

You really were at the forefront of something there.

People credit that with the beginning of roots-rock and say they were interested in Green on Red. I think the real reason people say that is it's just easy music to play. It's kind of like sadcore. Slow it down. Put some reverb on the girls' voice and whisper into the mike. The reason a lot of people do that [is because] it's easy. A lot of people play roots-rock 'cause it's easy to do.