‘Magic’ and some hard years bring Rowe some attention

“You start out frequenting the open mics. You scream over drunk jocks who actually think that Nickelback or even ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ is in your repertoire,’’ he wrote in November. “You play for no one on a Tuesday night except the waitress who is listening intently and moved enough to buy a CD with the only tip money she has left.’’

You are supposed to laugh at that account, which Rowe swears has been his reality for most of his career the past decade. Maybe that’s why it’s so satisfying to see that “Magic,’’ his moody sophomore album, is reaching a wider audience. He performs at Club Passim on Tuesday.

Anti-, which is home to many of Rowe’s musical heroes (Tom Waits, Neko Case, Nick Cave), recently released the album, which Rowe was previously selling to fans at his shows. Even those were mostly around Troy, N.Y., where Rowe was based until he moved farther north to Saratoga Springs.

He was the classic do-it-yourself musician, not to mention an avid outdoorsman whose website links to his heartfelt testimonials about foraging and harvesting wild plants. (As if his woodsy beard didn’t already tip you off.) Rowe wasn’t sure he would break out until Andy Kaulkin, head of Anti-, heard “Magic’’ through Rowe’s manager and decided to put it out.

It’s easy to hear what might have appealed to Kaulkin. Rowe will remind some listeners of other dark-hearted troubadours, from the closing-time stillness of Waits to the ravaged husk of a voice eerily similar to Greg Brown’s. “Time to Think’’ — with lines such as, “There’s a lot at stake/ A glass of wine/ One last drink to hide behind’’ — conjures up the smoky refrains of Leonard Cohen.

Rowe’s first album, “27,’’ a reference to his age at the time, was recorded in 2003. He would rather not think about it. “The jump in sound [between the two records] is pretty dramatic,’’ he says. “I don’t think it’s very good, but I don’t deny it.’’

He’s grown since then — as a writer, singer, and specifically as a live performer — and hardly recognizes his voice on his debut. Still, it was the logical first step for someone who knew music was his destiny.

“I had always had a band when I was in high school, and I played my first show when I was 18,’’ he says. “I always knew I wanted to do music for a living, and I didn’t really put much stock in doing anything else, although I had every kind of labor job you could think of just to be able to afford to play.’’

Now that Rowe isn’t his town’s best-kept secret anymore, he’s adjusting to his new life on the road and garnering new fans. That was always part of the plan; Rowe just didn’t know how to do it on his own.

“Here’s the thing: I’m probably the most unorganized person that I know. My only reason for staying local is because — well, if you saw my car, you’d understand,’’ he says. “I need help. I need other people that are passionate about the music and have the know-how to help me out with the other aspect of what I do. I’ve been lucky enough to have that. You gotta go with what your gifts are.’’

James Reed can be reached at jreed@globe.com.

Correction: Because of a reporting error, an earlier version of this story misstated the day of his concert at Club Passim. It was Tuesday night.