York singer-songwriter A.D. Chandler is like a character in Cannery Row – content to get by, share some wine with friends and take each scenario as an opportunity, with an almost sleepy ease about it all.

Chandler seems to see everything that happens matter-of-factly, and he talks about it with a noticeable lack of the wide-eyed dreamer-itus that infects so many who aspire to a career in music. He even describes the beginnings of his musical life as if he’s a casual observer along for the ride.

“I broke my leg when I was younger – I broke it pretty bad – and my father gave me a guitar,” he explains. “I just kind of started playing with different friends, usually as the side guy, and then just decided to start writing music.”

Chandler’s musical education started early in life, when he was surrounded by music and by people who played casually. “Growing up, my father, my brother and my grandfather and everybody was into music,” he says. “I just grew up with the Rolling Stones, The Band, Dylan …” In other words, he grew up listening to the good stuff, shaping his musical brain around good old-fashioned top-shelf American songwriting. Chandler does admit that he wasn’t immune to modern sounds and peer pressure. Now, he is discriminatingly indiscriminate, and claims, “Anything you can get your hands on that’s good, I’ll listen to it.”

Chandler’s music naturally reflects his “take life as it comes and enjoy the ride” ethos. He describes it as original country, folk and blues – elements that are integrated into most of the songs organically, as opposed to showing up separately in songs that are by turns blues, folk or country. The music is also off-kilter and a bit drunken, in a stumbling mystic / wino / Tom Waits kind of way.

Chandler traveled to Southern California to record his debut album, Some Days Are Better Than None (one of my favorite album titles in a while). The consistent and timeless sound he achieved on the album is like everything else in Chandler’s life: It sort of just happened. He explains, “When I went out there, I was just going to record a few songs, maybe a good demo. We just ended up working really well and just decided to go ahead and make an album out of it.”

The “we” Chandler refers to is himself and an old high school friend named Al Sgro. Sgro flew the Central PA coop some time ago and, after playing drums for various folks, touring the world and getting a taste of the road-weary musician’s life, settled in Hollywood to shift into the production and recording side of things. Chandler describes their reunion with a typical lack of anything suggesting fate or destiny. “He came back and saw me in a bar one night playing these songs, and he was like, ‘You should come out and we’ll put a band together and record these songs,’” Chandler says. “So I took him up on it, and I’m glad I did.”

Fortunately for Chandler, his disposition is not that of the detail-controlling songwriter. He is so relaxed and willing to “trust the process,” so to speak, that he set down the fundamental building blocks and headed home, trusting Sgro with all the remaining flourishes and elements that would flesh out the songs fully. The session players who were brought in to record backing parts have played with Our Lady Peace, Shakira, Gary Jules and a number of other well known artists.

“I wasn’t even there, basically,” Chandler chuckles.

The decision to trust Sgro is what transformed Some Days Are Better Than None from an interesting singer-songwriter album to an excellent and mature record with nuances delicately dialed in. It shuffles along with lazy, jazz-influenced folk and swaggers with tipsy, regret-soaked and love-weary blues. All the perimeters shimmer and crackle where they ought to, thanks to those after-the-fact sessions.

Understanding all that went into the album, I wondered how Chandler feels about his ability to pull the songs off live. He replies with genuine modesty, “I think we have a pretty good show. A lot of people think what you’re gonna take home is what you see [on stage], but depending on the venue – if it’s a small little place, I might just use a percussionist instead of a drummer. But I like playing with a bigger band.”

These days, life as a musician is difficult for anyone who isn’t a 14-year-old manicured, processed and packaged Miley or Justin – even more so for someone like Chandler, whose sound is left of mainstream. His niche music is best suited to a grassroots approach, as opposed to signing with a wealthy label and having success handed to him on a platter. I am always curious how people perceive this reality, and what their strategy for forward momentum is in light of it.

“I would think it’s probably easier,” Chandler says of joining the ranks of the independent musician. “I mean, you got control of everything; everybody can do it.”

That being said, he is aware of the fairly large downside: market over-saturation. “The thing about it is there’s thousands and thousands of people trying to do it,” Chandler says, “and you have to go though a lot of bad [music] to find some good. Of course, that’s what the labels are there for, is to be the filter, to find the good. But who are they to say what’s good?”

How to succeed in the music business – if anyone ever comes up with a definitive answer, he will be a very rich man, indeed. Meanwhile, artists like Chandler must push forward on the strength of their music (a plus for Chandler) and their business acumen (not so much).

“I think I’d be a little farther, I mean with music and stuff, if I was a better businessman,” Chandler admits.

Then again, if Chandler had the type of personality that succeeded at business, he might write an entirely different kind of song. His timeless and un-ambitious (in the best way) songwriting is what continues to makes his music special.