Trying to describe Joe Price is like trying to “dance about architecture,” as Elvis Costello would say. Words just won’t do him justice.

But imagine an old steam engine rolling across the plains three minutes prior to its arrival into an old Western township. The rumble of the big locomotive is nearing and nobody is sure what or whom is rollin’ down the tracks. Tension builds in the townsfolk as the rhythmic pounding along the rails nears town. The imposing presence of the engine pulls to the depot and a whistle blows.

A large, burly man dressed in a black duster struts off one of the cars. He’s an impressive outlaw with broad shoulders wearing an equally striking hat hiding the face of terror too many have seen before.

This is not Joe Price. But it might very well describe his songs.

“I’m not nostalgic about trains,” Price says. “I’m out of train songs.”

The man making the big sound isn’t so big himself – physically, that is. A man of average height, Price presents a humble appearance. He prefers a white flat cap like that of Ben Hogan instead of a 10-gallon topper. Approach ol’ Joe and he’ll greet you with nothing but smiles and a firm handshake while swaying back and forth.

Price worked on the railroads himself when he was younger, as did his stepfather Merle, as a switchman on the Chicago Northwestern Line. His days working around that big iron on railroads are evident today in his playing.

“I play with all ten fingers,” Price says. “You get a lot bigger sound fingerpicking instead of using a flat pick. I use big strings and tune to C. You do that on a Les Paul [guitar] and you’re gonna get some big sounds.”

Price comes from a line of players reminiscent of Robert Johnson or Elmore James where the blues aren’t merely played, but instilled in one’s soul and forced out by a higher power. It’s an evil, damning spirit. Every chance to play is another failed attempt to exorcise the demons that haunt tortured souls from the Mississippi Delta all the way up to the Lansing river valley. Perversely, people continue to show up to see the spectacles these fellas create.

Despite peers and labelmates like Bo Ramsey and Greg Brown praising Price as the real deal, the past three decades have been anything but smooth for Price.

“People appreciate me a little bit more,” Price notes with a ragged sigh. “It hasn’t been a smooth ride . I’ve had some bumpy roads.”

“You gotta ride that wave though,” he continues.

The late ’80s were particularly tough for Price.

“It was around ’86 or ’87 when they cracked down on the drunk driving laws,” Price says. “People were afraid to go out to the bars for fear of getting picked up. Those were lame times and I struggled for about a year a half with gigs. I was playin’ for nobody. It changed everyone’s attitude.”

Those days have passed and crowds are coming out like never before. Price is doing what he wants to: he’s playing.

“I had so much fun playing with Bo [Ramsey] and [Dave] Zollo,” Price says commenting on last weekend’s Trailer Records showcase at the Val Air Ballroom in Des Moines.

Price enjoys playing now more than ever and doesn’t see an end to his foot stompin’ performances any time soon.

“It’d take a stroke, bullet or speeding train to keep me from playing,” Price says.

Expect a full-blown, unbridled performance from Price on Saturday.

“I’m used to playing until two in the morning,” Price says.

“I hate doing two 45-minute sets. The show’s over before it started.”