Screechless in Seattle : And now for someone completely different: Pete Droge emerges from the hotbed of alternative rock with a troubadour’s style. (He still wears plaid, though.)

You could hold casting calls for a month and not find anyone who looks more like your classic ‘60s troubadour than Pete Droge, a 26-year-old who gazes at the world through soft, penetrating eyes that seem constantly storing up images for future songs.

Wearing his guitar on his back as comfortably as an old jacket, the lanky, six-foot singer-songwriter is filled with the same sense of wanderlust associated with the early Bob Dylan or James Taylor. He’s one of those rare individuals who actually seem at home in a hotel room--or an airport lounge.

All this may tie him to one of pop-rock’s richest traditions, but it stamped Droge as a definite outsider in the grunge-dominated Seattle club scene, where he honed his craft in the early ‘90s.

With record scouts tossing six-figure contracts in the air like confetti in search of the next hard-rocking Nirvana or Pearl Jam, many young, folk-minded rock musicians would have been tempted to change their style in hopes of a shortcut to stardom.

Not Droge, who writes about the longing and doubts of relationships with the softer, more customized edge found in the work of his singer-songwriter heroes, including Dylan, Neil Young, Tom Petty and Gram Parsons.

“I was definitely doing something completely different,” the easygoing songwriter says, sitting on a chair in his West Hollywood hotel room. “I was in a band, but it was much more traditional and rootsy, more country than the kind of things the record companies were looking for.

“But I always felt there was a place for me because the artists I admired had made records and had enjoyed successful careers. My thinking, I guess, was ‘There may not be any spot for me now, but there will be one someday.’ ”

Droge was proved right when his debut album, “Necktie Second,” was released early last year by American Recordings and was well received by radio’s new adult album alternative format. One of Droge’s songs, the quirky and atypical “If You Don’t Love Me (I’ll Kill Myself),” also landed a spot in the hit “Dumb and Dumber” soundtrack.

The young performer’s main exposure, however, has come from being the opening act on high-profile tours with such acts as Petty, Melissa Etheridge and Sheryl Crow. His dates this spring with Petty went so well that Droge has been invited back for another leg of the tour.

“Pete might have been outside the [hard-core Seattle scene], but all the musicians in town liked to listen to his band--from Jerry Cantrell [of Alice in Chains] to Eddie Vedder,” says Kelly Curtis, who manages Droge as well as Vedder’s band, Pearl Jam.

“Personally, his music reminded me of the music I’ve always liked over the years--a little bit of Neil Young, a little bit of Dylan, a little bit of Petty. I didn’t so much think, ‘Hey, this could be big.’ I just thought, ‘Hey, this is good.’ ”

Droge comes to the wanderlust troubadour tradition naturally. He was born March 11, 1969, in Eugene, Ore., and was less than a month old when he was adopted by a Minneapolis couple. His new mother was an elementary school teacher, and his father set up group homes for troubled juveniles.

After four years, the family, including an older brother, moved to South Dakota and then to St. Louis before settling in the late ‘70s in the Seattle area; Droge lived there until moving to Portland, Ore., two years ago.

After an early infatuation with the music and costuming of cartoon rockers KISS, Droge began rummaging through his parents’ ‘60s-dominated record collection as he entered junior high school, and he discovered the music that eventually shaped his vision.

He responded especially to the restlessness reflected in such songs as Paul Simon’s “The Boxer” and Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone.”

“I was intrigued by the idea of someone who is a sort of nomad and doesn’t have any ties, any normal lifestyle--someone who is constantly in search of new adventures, new experiences,” he says.

D roge, who started writing songs during his late teens, was fronting a band called Ramadillo by his early 20s and working day jobs as a dishwasher, busboy and pizza cook.

At the pizza joint, he and co-worker Mike McCready spent their free time talking about music, sharing favorite tapes. McCready, now a guitarist in Pearl Jam, introduced Droge to the music of the late Gram Parsons, whose work in the late ‘60s and ‘70s with the Flying Burrito Brothers forged a masterful blend of country emotion and hard-edged rock observation.

“I fell in love with the fragileness of his voice,” Droge says of Parsons. “He wasn’t a great singer in a technical sense, but he sang with such urgency and immediacy. The songs too were very simple and pure--stories about the choices people have.

“There was also these religious overtones to a lot of what he did, mixing gospel and rock ‘n’ roll elements about temptation and salvation in ways that left you wondering just where he stood. It’s not too clear to you.”

Of the songs on Droge’s own debut album, “Fourth of July” comes closest to the evocativeness and mystery of Parsons’ most haunting works. The bittersweet song, which also reflects some of the heartwarming conviction of John Prine, deals with the anguish of a friend’s suicide:

On the Fourth of July See the sparks in the sky . . . (It’s) a good day to die They’ll celebrate each year Your independence from here

“The song was about a friend who climbed up a mountain on the Fourth of July and allowed himself to freeze to death,” Droge explains softly. “I was sitting around one afternoon thinking about him and wishing I had been around at the time he made that decision. So the song is partly about regret and guilt--feeling like I wasn’t a good enough friend.

“But there’s also part of the song that is a salute to him--and the fact that every year I’ll be able to remember him on this holiday. I’ll think about him and use all the fireworks to celebrate his independence from this world.”

Droge made a few demo tapes through the years, hoping to attract record company interest, yet he wasn’t satisfied with any of them. He mentioned to McCready two years ago that he wanted to save enough money to go into the studio for a week and make a professional demo.

In an act of generosity, McCready, who was by then reaping the rewards of Pearl Jam’s success, gave Droge $5,000--no strings attached--to record the demo.

Impressed by the results, Kelly Curtis agreed to manage Droge, and Brendan O’Brien, who has produced two of Pearl Jam’s albums, signed Droge to Rick Rubin’s American Recordings.

“The funny thing is that when I first heard the demo my initial thought was ‘Why does this 40-year-old guy want to start making records now?’ ” says O’Brien, who also produced the album and is now in the studio with Paul Westerberg.

“There was just such maturity in his voice and his songs. So I was amazed when I found out he was only 24. The thing I like about him is that he can write straightforward, simple songs with a real catchy hook and also write songs, like ‘Fourth of July,’ where you can feel all the pain that he is describing.”

There is in Droge’s music a healthy mix of optimism and disappointment, leading one to wonder about how he balances these feelings in his own life. The phrase “faith in you” pops up in two songs. In one the faith is rewarded, whereas a couple’s happy ending seems just out of reach in the other.

Droge smiles when asked whether he is an optimist or a pessimist.

“Well, I think of myself as definitely an optimistic and positive person,” he begins. “But as soon as I hear myself say that, I start feeling more negative because it’s so hard in this world to count on anything, including human interaction.”

Droge, who plans to record his second album this summer, pauses and looks across the room at his unpacked suitcase on the bed.

“In some ways,” he continues, “That’s probably what all this search is about. Everyone is looking for something to believe in.”*