Two and a half decades ago, you could count on hearing Graham Parker mentioned in the same breath as two other punk-inspired British singer-songwriters who’d cut their teeth in the pub-rock circuit: Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson. All three were articulate angry young men whose debut albums fused deft songcraft with a touch of the bare-knuckled ferocity the Sex Pistols had brought back to rock and roll. Costello, who’s tried on styles as diverse as country and chamber music, gradually established himself as the greatest songwriter of his generation; the equally ambitious Jackson drifted from big-band and glib Cole Porterism to dreary classical-lite. But Parker — who performs this Saturday at the Riverfest with Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, Shawn Mullins, and Catie Curtis — has stuck to literate, impeccably tasteful, guitar-based singer-songwriting. He did release a batch of clever, semi-autobiographical short stories called Carp Fishing on Valium last year. But he’s never been a musical dilettante: no pseudo-jazz, no faux classical, no duets with Daryl Hall.

And though he’s never fully connected with a mainstream US audience, his instinct for classic American soul and R&B, along with his knack for marrying literate songcraft to rootsy arrangements, should appeal to serious fans of Steve Earle, Tom Waits, and Randy Newman. Indeed, long-time fan Bruce Springsteen jammed with Parker and Southside Johnny last Memorial Day at Asbury Park’s Stone Pony. And though he’s never quite matched the intensity of his magnificent 1979 album Squeezing Out Sparks, the 50-year-old seems to have grown comfortable with his status as a cult artist and with the law of diminished expectations.

" Well, I don’t want to be as big as ’N Sync, " he says over the phone from London. " But there is something about being around for exactly 25 years that makes people more interested in you. I recently did a show in London with [former Rumour guitarist] Martin Belmont, and it was a heaving, sweating celebration. Two years ago, it would have been fine — 200 people or so, mostly old geezers. But my 16-year-old daughter was at this one, and she said there were lots of 18- and 20-year-olds. "

The new Deep Cut to Nowhere (Razor & Tie) is Parker’s 15th studio album. Recorded with Rumour drummer Steve Goulding and Figgs bassist Pete Donnelly in just three weeks, and self-produced, it has a casual, off-handed confidence and just the right mix of crunch and jangle. " For all intents and purposes, it’s a live album. We did the basic tracks in a few days, with me on acoustic guitar. It shouldn’t take any longer, unless you have some record company telling you, ‘Oh, let’s get so-and-so to sing back-up on that one . . . he just had a huge hit.’  "

Parker’s songwriting is sharp as ever — hooky and word-heavy. The Stonesy, apocalyptic " Dark Days " is followed by the beleaguered, galloping " I’ll Never Play Jacksonville Again, " a wry mock-epic about Florida coastal flooding. " High Horse " is a witty piece of ska-inflected jangle pop; the neo-rockabilly " Socks and Sandals " sketches a self-depreciating portrait of middle-aged suburbia; and, with its singularly Parkeresque title, " Syphilis and Religion " makes an acid comment on imperialism. The standouts are the luscious soul rave-up " Depend on Me, " and the painfully gorgeous ballad " Blue Horizon. " " I wrote ‘Blue Horizon’ as a companion to my story ‘The Sheld-Duck of the Basingstoke Canal’ [from Carp Fishing], and I just knew it was as good as anything I’ve written. "

" Last Stop to Nowhere, " which is referred to in Carp Fishing’s Woody Allenesque fantasy " Me and the Stones, " is another track directly inspired by one of his short stories. " It started as a parody, a throwaway, a send-up of a quiet Keith Richards–style ballad. But the more I played it and listened to it, the more enigmatic and evocative and interesting it got. "

Even more evocative is his bandsaw of a voice, which has always sounded prematurely jaded. It’s a wonderful, wizened instrument for middle-aged reflection, dry and raspy, yet still capable of the nuances an R&B gem like " It Takes a Village Idiot " requires.

Parker’s not expecting a rocket ride up the charts or an extended stay on MTV’s TRL. " I just want to make one small record label happy. I’ve gotta be realistic. Forget major labels and a mass audience, I’m a boutique act. These days I tell record labels that whatever I do will be decent, but no amount of interference on your part will make it great. "