First with the solitude of “Silo,” and then the empty corridors of “Chalkboard,” Christian Cuff was getting a reputation as a bit of a loner — albeit a popular, performing loner. Cuff makes no bones about the sadness that characterizes much of his writing, but he’s also made concerted strides to brighten up his show with strident fellow players and a desire to connect rather than withdraw while on stage.

The result has been a world-traversing success, allowing the opportunistic writer to take his craft through Europe and back to Maine to roaring approval.

Catch Cuff while you can Saturday night at One Longfellow Square, the perfect room for his authentic, road-weary laments.

What’s your favorite room to play in the world so far, and why?

The Aurora Piccolo Teatro in Bolzano, Italy. That’s my favorite spot in the world, regardless of if I’m playing or not. Beautiful place, great staff and sound, and their sound man Morgan makes the best cup of coffee in Italy, which is a heavy claim. This spot is so high up on my list that I moved a full two weeks of shows during the last tour just so we could fit it in the schedule.

Do you find yourself fending off labels of being a sad folkie?

I don’t. If someone wants to lay a label down, I’ve got no problem with it; saves me the time of trying to come up with something anyway. But I hope the show keeps us out of the Elliot Smith frames. We have a great time together on stage, and I think that’s as much a part of our music as the Golem-esque demeanor I keep when I’m busted down and writing. I’m not gonna argue that my writing is a bit down, but when we perform, we do it to entertain. I write for me, but we play for the audience, so I try not to get so shut in my head during a show nowadays.

What are some of the newer musical elements in your live show?

Dan (Boyden, drums) and Johnny (Venom, guitars and keys) made all the difference for the new live show. Dan’s style of drumming forced this new direction on us, the kind that just Joey (Pierog, upright bass) and I were coming up short on. Adding Johnny to the lineup not only brought a third voice, but a multi-instrumentalist with an ear for dynamics. Once we had that, it freed me up to play around a bit more with cross-harp and just singing, which in turn led to the discovery of some kind of vocal range — still fine tuning that, though. So there’s no shortage of change to the show in the last year, but we’ve had four tours to sort it out.

How has “Chalkboard” been received? Will the next record have a different sound?

“Chalkboard” ‘s been moving really well. I’m not sure how things over here have been for it, but the overseas reception was gorgeous. It’s a little more radio friendly than “Silo” is but still, I hope, holds onto that intimacy. We’ve just stepped back into the studio to record tracks for the fall tour, and the new sounds are a whole different way. I’m learning not to hold back so much and taking a more “day in, day out” work ethic to writing, and trying to rely less on the next crazy lady.

Why is Europe such an attractive place for a songwriter to share his work?

For me, it was just the way things worked out. There wasn’t a time until very recently that I would have referred to myself as a musician. It was really just a way to travel and see a few things without having the bankroll to back that up. And even before things started working out, a one-man crowd in France just felt better than a 50-strong in Bath. I needed to feel like I was doing something since I chumped out of college, and traveling always affords a clean slate, about the same as songwriting.

What was the most disastrous moment of the current tour?

There was a smell in Belgium at one of our accommodations it really can’t be described as less than sentient, and evil. It was aware that we were in its home, and it responded. Terrifying crypt-like nether funk that won the day, and after a sleepless night, we rolled out early. There was also a great “sleep in the bus” story that’s too much to type, but I’ll spill it at the Longfellow show. It involved a truck stop, sleeping pills, red wine, a soccer ball and subzero temperatures just outside of Prague.

After you’ve been tromping across the world, what’s it like to come home to Maine?

Always great to see everybody, but I have to re-acclimate knowing that everyone can understand everything we say, and not just what we simplify or slow down for the crowds. Feels like everyone’s spying. It’s nice to be able to speak freely in public, just so long as you speak quickly or go with slang. Also, coming home reminds me to send appreciative flowers and chocolates to our agents overseas, ’cause there are few things I hate more than booking.

Mike Olcott is a freelance writer who lives in Portland and Boston.