A conversation with Jonathan Richman falls somewhere between talking to a child and to a ficus. At times, his staccato answers are playful and charming, at others, evasive, aloof or downright weird. For a guy who's known to divulge every detail of his life either in song or in monologues during his live shows, it's surprising that he's so reserved when it comes to talking about himself.

Gratefully, most of Richman's poetic insights into life's little pleasures and pains have been put to music -- on more than a dozen albums spanning twenty-five-plus years. On just one of his records, he reveals more about the myth behind the man than he does over a bottle of Poland Spring backstage before a live show. But, however modest Richman is about his growing fame (thanks to his cameo in There's Something About Mary), his importance in the history of rock (in case you weren't yet born, his group the Modern Lovers helped bridge the gap between the Velvet Underground and punk in the mid-Seventies), or his current projects (his new album, I'm So Confused, will be released this month on Neil Young's Vapor Records), Richman's excessive quirks manage to peek through here and there.

I know that you're a big Dick Dale fan. Are there any other musicians that you admire, that affect you and your music today?

Cuban music, like Arsenio Rodriguez -- should I spell that? A-R-S-E-N-I-O. He played in the Forties and Fifties. A tres player, he was, which is a Cuban style of instrument, sort of like a guitar. It has its own sound. Cachao, a bass player. C-A-C-H-A-O. He's been famous since the Thirties and Forties. He's still alive. He lives in Florida.

How did you get into these old Cuban musicians?

Some of them from the movie. Matt Dillon told me about Cachao. He's a music fan, too. He knew that I was a fan of Arsenio Rodriguez, and he turned me on to a bunch of stuff. He gave me a shopping list. I bought a lot of these things, and they're terrific. But I already liked Celia Cruz and I already liked some of the others and stuff. I'm a big Maurice Chevalier fan, I'm a big fan of early rock & roll. I listen to John Lee Hooker, everyone. Mitch Ryder, Etta James, Norman Strong, the Diablos, Evan Dando.

I suppose it's all on vinyl, seeing as you seem to be an old-school kind of guy.

Vinyl is the best. 78 RPMs. A friend of mine has a 78 player, and he played me some Chuck Berry on 78. Don't miss it.

Really? Does it sound that much better?

Yes. If you have the opportunity to hear someone like Chuck Berry's records on a tube 78 player, you know, the old stuff before transistors, don't miss it. If you're a music fan, drive forty miles to do it. Do it. You'll notice the difference.

A lot of your music seems pretty autobiographical. And it seems that the more shows one goes to, the better he or she gets to know Jonathan Richman -- or at least the public Jonathan Richman, the one that you let people have a peek at.

Not all the things are necessarily autobiographical. I mean, to me, they're just songs.

Do you care that people assume that you're the protagonist of your many tales?

I can't worry, even if I did care. All I gotta do is sing. It doesn't do any good to worry about it too much.

How did you get hooked up with the Farrelly brothers to work on There's Something About Mary?

They invited me and Tommy [Larkin, Richman's drummer] to dinner there, at a restaurant in L.A. They said, "Do you want to narrate our new comedy with Tom?" We said, "Sure! Great." We did.

I know that you've gone through periods where you seemed to be close to the flame of celebrity, but you've shied away from it. But with your involvement in the film, particularly your cameo, your face is now sort of fresh in everyone's mind, as is your music. Do you feel more comfortable now with the idea of fame?

No. I would have done it in any era. There's nothing to shy away from. And also, it's easy not to shy away from the media, 'cause lots of times they want to know about the movie, and that's much more fun to talk about. I'm much more shy when they want to talk about my records.

Strange that your career is based on making all these records, but you'd rather talk about another person's art.

I like to play stuff, I don't like to talk about it.

Your next album is coming out this month.

It's called I'm So Confused. Ric Ocasek produced it. All I can tell ya, see, it's a rock & roll record.

You've been in the industry, making music for twenty-plus years ...

More than that. Almost twenty-seven years.

How is it different, almost thirty years later?

Me and Tommy probably have more fun now than either of us has ever had on the road before. I don't know why it's getting more fun, but it is. We know all the good places to play, we've got a lot of friends. I don't know. We're on the road around half the year, sometimes a little less. 150 shows.

Do you think you're ever going to stop touring?

I don't know.

Do you take vacations?

I took a vacation for the first time a few weeks ago. A six-day vacation. Because I travel so much, I don't really take vacations.

You seem to love playing live. Is being on the road like vacationing?

It is kind of like vacation. We just load into the truck and play a bunch of stuff. We can just take the paper towels out of the air conditioner [which he had placed in the shafts earlier, complaining of the cold in a club with temperatures hovering around ninety degrees], and we could pretend we were in the Alps. [He points to a plant] That's sort of like being in the jungle out there. Yeah. [He points to the stained carpet in the hallway] That's sort of like being in a crummy place over there. But then downstairs, it's sort of like being in a stinking place. So it's all different. You can have any kind of place. So it's sort of like vacation, so it's good.

Except for the beach.

Well, we have bottled water. Want a drink of water?

HEIDI SHERMAN