Son of a (big) gun

Shooter Jennings didn't waste any time making a name for himself. One of his very first acts on earth earned him his pistol-packing moniker: Upon arrival, Jennings peed on the delivery-room nurse.

"Yeah, that's true," he says with a raspy chuckle, grinning sheepishly almost as if he remembers the moment (not that he possibly could, says his mother, but more on that later).

Over the past 28 years, the singer-songwriter has comfortably grown into both his nickname and into the mighty heritage bestowed by the name on his birth certificate: Waylon Albright Jennings.

On Tuesday Jennings releases "The Wolf," his third album of hell-raising yet heartfelt hard-core country and Southern rock. In its unfiltered appreciation of hillbillies, honky-tonks, and the high-lonesome sound, "The Wolf" makes plain that he is a chip off the old block.

Or in Shooter's case, blocks. As the only child of country royalty Waylon Jennings and Jessi Colter, the younger Jennings has been submerged in music literally his whole life. From rocking in a crib on his parents' tour bus to watching them perform from the wings as a teen, Jennings lived the life of an outlaw country star long before he decided to become one.

Although it might have seemed pre-ordained, he arrived at his decision at the end of a circuitous route. First, like all teenagers, Jennings had to go his own way, which meant away from Nashville and country music to Los Angeles and hard rock.

Sitting in a darkened Paradise Lounge last week before his gig in the big room next door, Jennings recounts how he and a few friends caravanned to the Sunset Strip with Guns N' Roses in their eyes. "When I saw Axl [Rose] step off the bus with the hayseed in his mouth, I was sold right then," he says of the classic "Welcome to the Jungle" video.

He fronted Stargunn, a band he describes as "more riff-rock-y than glam metal" - it must be noted, however, that there was a little eyeliner involved for a short while - and built up a decent following. Jennings even sang a few times with an early version of the post-GNR outfit Velvet Revolver. But in the wake of his father's passing in 2002, Jennings started feeling the pull of the music of his youth.

"When I was doing Stargunn, we were doing country covers and it was still running through my blood. And there was a respect, an admiration there, but I didn't get obsessed with country until later," says Jennings, whose goatee and tangle of shoulder-length brown hair give him a strong resemblance to both his father and Bob Seger circa "Night Moves." "I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that when you're real young, you can't really relate to country music lyrically. I could relate to, like, Aerosmith or Guns 'N Roses at 8 because I thought that was cool and crazier. As you get older, you start soaking up your parents' music a little bit and why they like it more than they like what you're listening to. I think it's a natural process for people that had music around a lot as kids."

Colter says even though her husband never saw Shooter come around to country, he was supportive of Stargunn. "When Waylon saw him, he said, 'You know the music is in good hands.' I didn't know that Waylon was looking for that . . . and then he said to Shooter, 'You're so far ahead of where I was at your age.' "

As for his famous nickname, "That was Waylon's version of it," says Colter with a chuckle on the phone from Arizona. "I just didn't feel like calling a little critter Waylon. It didn't seem right. And Waylon was such an Old West buff and we were just looking for a name temporarily to put on him."

Like his dad before him, Jennings has generally eschewed the Nashville machine, choosing to work with producers and players whom he likes, including veteran steel guitarist Robby Turner, who logged many miles alongside the elder Waylon.

"He's surrounded himself with the same kind of people because of his breeding," says Turner. "I see things of his daddy [in him]. Shooter could break down the same barriers in music that his daddy did, and that's saying a lot with the music industry."

"I don't play by the rules - it's not even rules, I just don't do it that way, I never have," says Jennings of working with Turner and his band, the .357's, instead of session guys. (His records are put out by major Nashville-based label Universal South, however.)

And also like his dad before him, Jennings, who is expecting his first child with his girlfriend, actress Drea De Matteo ("The Sopranos") - has discovered resistance on radio to his brand of gritty but tuneful odes to women, whiskey, and the wide-open road.

Although the rousing "4th of July," from his defiantly titled debut, "Put the O Back in Country," was a minor hit in 2005, he has yet to feel the love for either the 2006 follow-up, "Electric Rodeo," or the first single from "The Wolf," a countrified take on Dire Straits's '80s hit "Walk of Life."

"I don't know if it's that they don't want the way it's going to change," says Jennings, clearly exasperated at not being allowed into what he calls "such a small, tight community" of programmers and tastemakers. "Every other music embraces the new and the different, but country doesn't."

SHOOTER UP Hear songs from Shooter Jennings's new album at boston.com/clips.

What's ironic is that there is nothing "experimental" or "alt" about what Jennings is doing. Those who like the harder edges of groups like Big and Rich, Montgomery Gentry, or even Tim McGraw could find plenty to love about Jennings's straight-shooting, guitar-centric style that echoes not only his parents, but also groups like the Allman Brothers, Led Zeppelin, and another famous son of a legend, Hank Williams Jr. He even employs the lush harmonies of the Oak Ridge Boys on the chugging, instantly catchy "Slow Train" from the new album. "How much more country can you get?" he asks with a laugh.

But Jennings has found, to paraphrase the title track on "The Wolf," being a little bit country and a little bit rock 'n' roll isn't a plus unless you're Donny and Marie and it's the '70s.

Mike Brophey, program director for WKLB (Country 102.5 FM), says Jennings is in a tough spot where many artists find themselves: If Jennings had a higher profile, he would get more attention from radio - and that's still the primary way to raise your profile in country music.

"That is unfortunately a huge catch-22 with the music industry," says Brophey. "But if we play a song that's not on the charts, what song on the charts are we not going to play?"

Personally, Brophey believes Jennings is very talented. "It's not throwaway music, it's music with, I think, some meat and some soul to it, which is cool." But, "We have a fairly restricted playlist; that's just the way big-city radio is, and country music probably more so. Until he gets on the national charts, we really can't look at that with any kind of serious eye."

Jennings isn't worried, though. With a soft-spoken determination inherited from his dad, he says, "Whether we get accepted or not, we will find a way around it. If we can't, [we'll] go through it."

Sarah Rodman can be reached at srodman@globe.com.