It’s not often that a performer who sings and wields an acoustic guitar – and who writes songs – will claim not to be a songwriter. Modest ones say they’re still learning the craft. But Chris Dertz – half of the acoustic-guitar-and-drum outfit Bedroom Sons, which will be performing at Rock Island’s Rozz-Tox on Saturday – won’t even go that far.

“I don’t really think of myself as a songwriter,” said Dertz, who grew up in Woodhull, Illinois (halfway between the Quad Cities and Galesburg) and now lives in DeKalb, Illinois. “They just kind of come through me from wherever they come from. ... I don’t really know where they come from.”

And once he’s got them down – which usually takes half an hour, he said – they’re finished. “Sometimes it feels like I might be cheating them by not giving them their due time to sit with them and think about what they are, what could be changed to make them better. But usually, songwriting is a very isolated incident for me. It’s hard for me to start writing a song and then come back to it weeks later. When it comes, I have to sit down and capture it.”

Dertz considers himself a performer rather than a songwriter. “I think it’s less about creating different sounds for people to hear live than it is just trying to be as energetic as possible and give people something compelling to watch,” he said. “When I was playing solo, there was rarely a show where I didn’t break something.”

Lest you think that Bedroom Sons involves Dertz and drummer Ben Gross thrashing about with no larger purpose, it must be said that Bedroom Sons’ new EP, Father, is an adept blend of the acoustic oddity of Neutral Milk Hotel and the unfiltered, direct rage of Against Me! In six minutes, the first two parts of “My Blood” build from warm memory to anger and then collapse into spent reverie. The rawness and soft/loud/soft dynamics of “Frozen to the Bone” suggest Nirvana through an Americana filter.

Dertz does a lot of distortion on his acoustic guitar, but other elements of the recording – the organ and horns, for example, of “My Blood Part 1” – are discarded for performance. “A lot of the stuff, compared to how it sounds on the EP, will probably sound kind of bare-bones to people live,” Dertz said, “but I think that’s part of what makes the show unique. It’s all about putting out a bunch of energy to try and make up for any instrumentation that’s lost.”

But he admits that the band’s aesthetic has pragmatic roots. “Nobody knows who I am at all,” he said. “I wanted something that would grab a bunch of people’s attention but that didn’t have all the things you have to work around with your traditional four- or five-piece band. ... It just simplifies things, and I think, for my songs, two people is really all that’s necessary to play them well ... .”

Bedroom Sons will perform at Rozz-Tox (2108 Third Avenue in Rock Island) on Saturday, June 11. Cover for the 9 p.m. show is $5, and the bill also includes Carver and Jeremy Suman.

For more information on Bedroom Sons, visit Facebook.com/bedroomsons. The Father EP can be downloaded for free at BedroomSons.BandCamp.com. Chris Dertz’s solo recordings can be downloaded for free at ChrisDertz.BandCamp.com.

To get a sense of the challenge, charm, and skill of the Baseball Project super-group – playing RIBCO on June 9 – start with Scott McCaughey’s “Buckner’s Bolero,” a litany of all that conspired to make Bill Buckner one of the sport’s great scapegoats.

“If Bobby Ojeda hadn’t raged at Sullivan and Yawkey / And hadn’t been traded to the Mets for Calvin Schiraldi,” it begins. “If Oil Can Boyd hadn’t been such a nutcase / And Jim Rice had twice taken an easy extra base.”

Here it’s evident that McCaughey knows the game in general, knows Game Six of the 1986 World Series in particular, and is fearless in attempting rhythms and rhymes with proper names and baseball lingo in song. Of Red Sox Manager John McNamara, he sings: “If he’d hit Baylor for Buckner and yanked the first baseman / For his by-the-book late-inning defensive replacement / That ball would’ve been snagged if it’d ever been hit / And Mookie’s last name would now be ‘’86.’”

But that amounts to little more than clever wordplay. Where McCaughey really shines is in taking the long view, approaching existential issues of baseball immortality: “If even one man doesn’t do one thing he does / We’d all know Bill Buckner for what he was: / A pretty tough out for the Dodgers, Red Sox, and Cubs.” But he finally concludes that the ground ball hit by Mookie Wilson that went through his legs might be the best thing that happened to his song’s subject: “And your 22 years playing ball might be forgotten / Maybe Bill Buckner was lucky his luck was so rotten.”

Starting with the stage name Danielle Ate the Sandwich and extending to her unabashedly silly intros to YouTube videos, her press photos, her jokey stage banter, and her ukulele, Danielle Anderson projects a whimsical image that’s a marked contrast to her voice and her songs.

And while she made that bed to sleep in, she’s not hesitant to say that it irritates her when people don’t take her music seriously. “I hate when people laugh or call my songs ‘cute’ and ‘little’ and ‘funny,’” the Colorado-based singer/songwriter said in a phone interview this week, promoting her June 2 show at Rozz-Tox in Rock Island.

Despite the gimmickry that suggests a novelty act, the 25-year-old Anderson is worth watching. Her third album, last year’s Two Bedroom Apartment, is mature and even startling in its writing and performance.

Blue Grass resident David G. Smith calls himself a “50-something,” and on Saturday he’ll mark the release of his first solo full-length album at the Redstone Room.

It’s undoubtedly a late start, but Smith said in a phone interview this week that he has genetics on his side. Two of his grandparents made it to their mid 90s, and one lived to 105. So by his calculation, “I have a 20-year career ahead of me.”

It’s off to a good start. Non-Fiction is a solid debut for the longtime songwriter – acoustic rock that’s sometimes funky and sometimes gentle, smartly produced and performed with conviction.

David Lowery saw no reason to make a solo album.

For more than 25 years, he’s been recording and releasing music with his bands Camper Van Beethoven and Cracker – a pair of “very diverse and flexible ensembles,” he said in a phone interview last week. “And so usually pretty much any piece of music I write, I can kind of put it with either one of the bands or the other.”

And both bands remain active, regularly touring together since 2002. “I know the Cracker and Camper audiences overlap like 90 percent,” he said. “And it’s just a little artificial sometimes to feel like, ‘Tonight the billboard says Cracker, and we’re only going to play Cracker songs.’”

But in February, at age 50, Lowery released under his own name The Palace Guards, a collection of nine songs that, he has said, gives “a sense of what it is that I’m kind of bringing to the bands.”