Little big rock

What: Little Man with Red Pens and The Rockford Mules

When: 9 p.m., Friday

Where: The Turf Club,1601 University Ave. W., St. Paul

Chris Perricelli subscribes to the less-is-more mentality for rock ‘n’ roll. Over the course of four LPs and this month’s EP “Orbital Amusement” the Little Man leader has cultivated a collection of songs steeped in the trappings of rock tradition, and the group’s roster has always been decidedly limited to a trio. After all, it’s only more alluring to watch one guitarist stir up towers of harmonies in a way that many axe-stacked bands can’t.

“I’m a huge Zeppelin fan, and they’re basically a three-piece with a singer, and if you hear their live stuff it’s crazy,” Perricelli said. “Same with The Who. They didn’t have a second guitar player, and that’s really great rock ‘n’ roll if you can make it work like that.”

There’s no denying that Perricelli knows his elders, but the spattering of T-Rex and Thin Lizzy throwbacks crawling across America’s modern music scene almost makes it a moot point. What separates Little Man from the pool of nostalgic competitors, however, is their ability to approach canonic bands not as creative crutches but as peers.

“There’s the familiarity of classic rock that people like,” he said, “but then I’m bringing it to them in a different way — a way that’s present and fresh rock.”

There’s an undeniably timeless quality to the music Perricelli and his supporting players convey. His treatment is also ever-evolving. Their 2007 collection of ’70s rock sensibilities, “Soulful Automatic,” nabbed them a best-band nod by City Pages that year. 2008’s “Of Mind and Matter” marked a stylistic digression with its psychedelic harmonies and a more notable focus on spiritual subject matter.

Their new EP once again trends towards new directions, most notably in its brashness. It is a guitar record through and through. Many of the tracks drip with the kind of ebb and flow between rolling drum patterns and Perricelli’s distorted riffs. Even with lean track lengths, the frontman still finds plenty of space to cram in solos.

“The guitar is a lot thicker, so mixing it was a bit of a challenge,” he said. “Fitting everything in right took some time.”

Even more impressive is how the release’s comparatively basic parts construct such a sonically intricate whole. While Little Man’s supporting lineup has evolved over the years, Perricelli has grown particularly fond of the chemistry between himself, bassist Brian Herb and drummer Sean Gilchrist.

“I like the trio,” Perricelli said. “There’s just something about the way that we play that makes it sound big, and I think that’s impressive to people.”

While the guitar may conquer over some of the bass lines on “Orbital Amusement,” the interplay between Gilchrist’s drums and Perricelli’s guitar has the kind of seamless fluidity that made “Led Zeppelin I” such a head-bobbing listen decades prior. It’s something that was largely gained from a few percussive renovations in the Chicago space where they recorded portions of the EP.

“They put a wood floor in, and it was a bit more live-sounding,” he said. “There was that kit sound in the room, so that was really cool.”

That live element of Little Man is something that Perricelli values as highly as his recording. Much like a particular purple-laden Minneapolis native, the Little Man singer and guitarist is a man of short stature (he’s 5 feet 2 inches). While Perricelli may use this small superficial joke as the group’s namesake, his fervor on stage leaves this aspect of his rock persona as little more than an afterthought.

“I’m a performer as much as I am a recording artist,” he said. “It’s my favorite thing to do, and I want to be giving energy out and having people get it.”