Ray LaMontagne may be the most introverted singer-songwriter on the scene, but that's OK with him - he'd prefer to let his music do the talking. The reluctant star manages to last through an entire interview with Tony Clayton-Lea.

HERE surrounds Ray LaMontagne a shroud of mystery. He refuses to talk about his past to the point where he's been known to quietly get up and walk out of the room if a journalist so much as tentatively broaches the topic.

This doesn't happen with The Ticket (if you want a job well done, call the professionals - or something like that), but there is nonetheless a sense that an early dismissal isn't necessarily out of the question. Even if LaMontagne is reasonably comfortable with the line of enquiry, he constantly kneads his knuckles as if calming a nervous tic, replying to queries in something close to a whisper.

LaMontagne is in Dublin for promotional interviews but, frankly, the international publicity department of Warner Music should realise it's a waste of money to put someone as reticent and verbally reclusive as LaMontagne on the media treadmill - he's one of the few artists whose music undoubtedly better expresses his thoughts, motivations, actions. Watching him squirm around for answers to hastily altered questions isn't a particularly edifying sight.

To make matters worse, LaMontagne is clearly a really nice bloke, albeit one trying to punch his way out of a bag of nerves. The approach, therefore, is of the softly-softly kind. We shadow box, we discuss his past obliquely, we talk about the recording process (yawn: he loves it), the music (interesting: new album Till the Sun Turns Black is a mesmeric singer-songwriter doozy of a thing) and his passion for pipe smoking (you had to have been there).

What we do know about Ray LaMontagne is the following: he was born in New Hampshire, one of six children from various fathers. The single parent family moved at regular intervals across America, where they lived in anything that wasn't a house: backyards, tents, cars, a cinderblock shell, a chicken coop.

Always the new kid at school, young Ray's withdrawal from the group mentality culminated in a sequence of incidents that focused on his oddball status. Immediately after he graduated he left his extended family, with no realistic idea of what the future might hold in store for him.

A four-year period followed where (so he says) nothing much happened. And then he experienced a life-changing epiphany. According to the way he tells it, he had, as was usual, set the alarm clock for 4 am. On this particular morning a song by Stephen Stills was playing. Wide awake, LaMontagne listened to Treetop Flyer and was utterly transformed. He decided not to go to work, but rather spent the day searching through record shops for the album the song came from (Stills Alone). From this point on, LaMontagne strongly felt his life had purpose. He nods when asked if it truly changed his life.

"It led to his earlier records, for one thing, which are amazing. The Manassas record, in particular . . . when I found that one it floored me. In fact, it still floors me, the band, the song. And hearing Stephen pointed me in the right direction - towards Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and on from there. The whole era of music, the late '60s to early '70s, was then laid wide open for me to listen to."

Up to then, LaMontagne didn't know what he wanted to do. "I didn't have any real passions in my life at that point. I was just lost, and I had no idea what my life was going to be like. I was working in dead end jobs, feeling pretty directionless."

Presumably, though, there were creative urges lurking in the back of his head? "Like most people, I had a lot of interests, but nothing beyond that. They were just interests, no passions." Is he the type of person who needs to focus on having passions? "I guess so. I guess I just follow my bliss."

The knuckles are being kneaded at a quicker pace by this stage; his fear that I'm about to ask a personal question is apparent. Time passes. Ho. Hum. Hum. Ho. Let's try this: Ideally, what do you want to experience when you listen to other songwriters?

"Whatever that magic is," comes the reply. "It's difficult to define. It's nice to hear something that's unexpected. I like to be surprised by melody and lyric. People like My Morning Jacket and Iron and Wine - they provide that element of surprise."

Do people get the wrong idea of you when they meet you for the first time? You're quite possibly the most introverted person I've ever met. "I have no idea what people think of me. Does it matter? The music is what I'm offering, not whatever persona people think I might have. It's impossible to be everybody's friend. I only have a few friends and they're hard enough to keep in contact with."

Fair enough point. We can't all be garrulous, and at least we can guarantee that whatever LaMontagne says isn't superfluous to interview requirements. When the recording process is brought up, he becomes almost giddy (well, he smiles shyly).

"Writing songs is a cross between torturous and wonderful, but recording is when you finally make the songs real. It's intense, and you're getting them down in the way you want them to be heard from then on, long past your lifetime. That's nice, because for better or worse it's tangible. It's a great feeling."

He then mutters to himself, "When I have a new batch of songs I have an irrational fear that there isn't going to be enough time to get them recorded - that something will happen".

Oh, cripes, time to go, then. Does he actually like the intensity of the recording process? "It forces you to focus on one thing; that's how I function anyway, on a daily basis. Everything is in its little box. I'm not very good at focusing on more than one thing at a time."

And interviews. He's not really enjoying himself, is he? "I find them tedious," he says, half apologetically, polite but resilient. "And talking about myself is even more tedious. I'd rather talk about something else."

Till the Sun Turns Black is on release. Ray LaMontagne plays the National Stadium, Dublin on January 17th; Opera House, Cork on January 18th; UCH, Limerick on January 19th; and Waterfront Hall, Belfast on January 20th