Darius Rucker (center front row) and his fellow co-writers (including Radney Foster, right front row) at the 2010 CRS ASCAP-sponsored event, "Storytellers With Darius Rucker," on February 24 in Nashville, Tenn. Photo by Bev Moser, courtesy of AristoMedia.

It takes a certain amount of guts — and a lot of self-confidence — to work as an artist, continually pushing against the odds until maybe, just maybe, you get a chance to break through. And a story about his pre-stardom days suggests that Darius Rucker always had the attitude it takes.

When he first heard Foster & Lloyd’s “Crazy Over You” on an AM radio in 1987, Darius was hooked on country music, and the following year, he went to see the duo at a South Carolina club after he finished his shift at a retail store. They’d already started their set, and Darius proceeded to down a few brews. He soon began shouting repeatedly for them to play “You Can Come Cryin’ To Me.” They didn’t. Instead, Radney Foster and Bill Lloyd closed out their regular set, then came back for an encore, only to hear Darius screaming for the song again. Radney politely told him he had missed it when they sang it near the start of their show, but Darius belligerently called his attention to the racial makeup of the audience.

“I’m the only black guy,” Darius said, as he recounted Wednesday during the Country Radio Seminar. “Are you tellin’ me you can’t play the song I wanna hear!?”

That story was an appropriate lead-in as Darius sang “You Can Come Cryin’ To Me” with Radney Foster during an ASCAP session, “Storytellers With Darius Rucker,” at the Country Radio Seminar. Darius trotted out a host of songwriters he’s worked with — including Frank Rogers, Ashley Gorley, Clay Mills, Chris DuBois, Chris Stapleton, Dave Berg and Rivers Rutherford — as he delivered a semi-acoustic bit of insight into the creative process for radio executives in town for the annual convention.

Artists wisely work with co-writers they’re able to bond with, and they end up forming a sort of satellite friendship around the act. They’re rarely recognized or credited outside of Music Row circles, but without their melodic contributions and lyrical abilities, many artists would have lesser material. Darius was cognizant of their aid as he performed eight of the 12 songs on Learn To Live, an album that converted him publicly from the lead singer for the ‘90s pop/rock band Hootie + The Blowfish to a bona fide country solo star.

“It’s really cool to have all these guys in the room at the same time,” Darius said. “They changed my life.”

Darius swapped verses or lines with some of the writers and got harmonic input and/or guitar backing from most of the rest. Throughout, the event had an informal air about it, the band providing character to the songs through a very-country fiddle and through an electric piano that provided a 1970s vibe, reminiscent of such divergent influences as Don Williams’ country classic “Tulsa Time” and the Looking Glass’ “Brandy (You’re A Fine Girl).”

The creative process of making an album thus unfolded for the CRS attendees in bits and pieces: Darius finding inspiration for “Alright” as he nursed a staph infection in his knee, pulling “Don’t Think I Don’t Think About It” from Clay Mills’ breakup with a girlfriend, and essentially writing the title track on assignment after Frank Rogers — the album’s producer — announced they needed “something peppy and radio-ish.”

In the worst of circumstances, the creative process can lead to a clash of egos and bruised feelings. It would appear that the process of Learn To Live built a web of friendships, given the volume of writers who took part in the performance and their playful interaction.

As the session neared its end, Frank made an offhand remark that was barely audible over the speaker system. Darius didn’t hesitate to pounce: “He beat me in PlayStation this weekend, he’s gotta tell everybody. I’m like, ‘Grow up!’”

The attitude permeates all.

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