Kurt Vile's long hair, sleepy eyes and droll, deliberate sing-speak delivery have led many to peg the Philadelphia-based singer, songwriter and guitarist as a "stoner," though, as he indicated in a 2015 Grantland interview, he rarely smokes weed.

Kurt Vile's long hair, sleepy eyes and droll, deliberate sing-speak delivery have led many to peg the Philadelphia-based singer, songwriter and guitarist as a "stoner," though, as he indicated in a 2015 Grantland interview, he rarely smokes weed.

The musician, in turn, trumpets his strong recall, noting he can remember every detail from recording his sixth and most recent album, b'lieve I'm goin down…, right down to the state of mind he was in during sessions.

"I have a pretty crazy memory, so I remember every little thing that was going on, like where I was recording it and certain headspaces," said Vile, 36, who joins his bandmates for a concert at Newport Music Hall on Saturday, April 2. "There were definitely some semi-dark, struggling headspaces I was in at times, and I think even within the song I pull myself out of it. But that's pretty normal to have those psychological battles."

Vile depicts these struggles most deliberately on "Lost My Head there," which appears to take listeners on a tour of his sometimes haphazard creative process.

"I was buggin' out 'bout a couple-two-or-three things/ Picked up my microphone and started to sing," he sighs. "I was feeling worse than the words come out/ Fell on some keys, and this song walked outta me."

Indeed, much of b'lieve appears to play out inside Vile's mind - "You gotta be alone to figure things out sometimes," he sings on the droning, elliptical "Wheelhouse"- and there are numerous occasions he channels an insular philosopher, coming on like Matthew McConaughey's "True Detective" character had he been reared on Monty Python and reruns of "Dr. Strangelove" rather than Robert Chambers and H.P. Lovecraft.

Musically, b'lieve is among Vile's richest, most diverse efforts, incorporating more piano and banjo - an instrument he started playing with increased frequency after purchasing a handmade model from Buckeye Banjos in Eggleston, Virginia.

"I think when you get a new instrument in general, if it's the right instrument for you, it brings new songs," said Vile, who was drawn to the banjo due to the "hypnotic, beautiful, effortless, ethereal" quality generated by finger-picking its strings. "Just the other day my bandmate found this Gibson J-45 I'd wanted for a while in Carrboro, North Carolina. I went there and picked it up, and I immediately started writing this song because it sounded so good. I ended up finishing the lyrics as I was walking down the street with this new guitar in my hands."

In general, Vile said his songs reflect his station in life, and he's aware the music has revealed greater vulnerability with time, allowing listeners a more complete picture of who he is in his day-to-day.

"Getting older, different things affect your life, and you have different experiences that shape or knock down parts of who you are," he said. "And that's a thing I realize I want to capture in every song."