Kinky Friedman’s website makes it easy to forget how he became famous as such an oddball character. At www.kinkyfriedman
.com, you can click on links for a cornucopia of goods emblazoned with Kinky’s visage: cigars, tequila, gourmet coffee, salsa. There’s also his long line of books, from mystery novels to memoirs, and a cause that’s near and dear to his heart, his Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch.

Kinky Friedman the music maverick, though, is lost in the product placement. In the early 1970s, he was a curio of the outlaw country movement, a Texas renegade who drew heavily on his unlikely quest to become the first Jewish country star.

He was gloriously in your face about it. His backing band was called the Texas Jewboys, and they riled up audiences with cult favorites such as “They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore” and “Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in the Bed.” The winking punch lines often obscured the fact that Friedman’s songwriting had more heart and whip-smart satire than most folks realized at the time.

At 67, Friedman is on the road again with a guitar. This time he’s winding up the East Coast on what he calls the “Bi-Polar Tour,” which stops at Johnny D’s on Friday.

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It’s rare for Friedman to tour as a musician (“I don’t think I’ve played in Boston since Christ was a cowboy,” he says), and the show will function as both concert and book reading and signing. We recently caught up with Friedman from his home in Texas, where in 2006 he ran for governor as an independent.

‘My audiences are very interesting to me. . . . My shows have been filled with young people who weren’t even born when my songs were recorded.’

Q. For a guy who doesn’t tour much anymore, you’ve got an awful lot of shows coming up.

A. It’s insane, even for a younger person. For one thing, I’m 67 years old, though I read at the 69-year-old level. I got this idea from Willie [Nelson, a longtime friend]. Willie believes that taking time off is a waste. He thinks it throws you off your game, and he’s right about that. One night off, and the next show is not quite there. You get in the groove, and the audience and the adrenaline will carry you.

Q. Who is your audience these days?

A. My audiences are very interesting to me. It’s not like with the Rolling Stones or some big commercial acts who basically become nostalgia. My shows have been filled with young people who weren’t even born when my songs were recorded. Everything I do is old. The songs really are old, and many of them, like “Sold American” and “They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore” really are in the Woody Guthrie spirit in that they’re applicable to today.

Q. When you started out as a country singer in the ’70s, did you already have any sense you would essentially be in a league of your own?

A. To me part of the problem was, if I had been born on an Arkansas dirt farm, I think I would have been a big country star. I think being an upper-middle-class Jewish kid with wonderful parents and graduating college [prevented that]. The only college guy in country back then was Kristofferson.

Q. What did running for governor of Texas in 2006 teach you about politics?

A. It taught me that my definition of politics was correct: “poly” meaning more than one, and “ticks” being bloodsucking parasites. When these [politicians] were young they were all hall monitors in school and grew from there. We should limit them all to two terms: one in office and one in prison. They love to stay perpetually behind the curve, which is very much true of our president today. Up and down the ladder, you’re not going to find a Harry Truman or a Winston Churchill. I lost the governor’s race, but it was a chance to be significant, and it was to a lot of people. The Crips and the Bloods [his term for Democrats and Republicans] were terrible as always. In Texas they’re very entrenched, and I was running as an independent. We would have won in a smaller state. We got over 600,000 votes, but it wasn’t enough here.

Q. Because you dabble in so much — music, politics, books, tequila — do you find people tend to know you in different contexts?

A. I call it the curse of being multitalented. If I was [guitarist] Leo Kottke, it would be quite clear what I did. I think the music has been one thing, but I got really into writing books. This latest book [“The Billy Bob Tapes: A Cave Full of Ghosts,” a collaboration with actor-musician Billy Bob Thornton] is the 32d book that I’ve churned out — I mean, carefully crafted. That’s a lot of prose.

Q. Are you surprised by your musical longevity?

A. What I find really amazing is that most people aren’t coming to [discover me]; they already know who I am. The whole idea that I’m able to do this tour after all this time, without any record support or a big hit, is amazing. Our culture wants a Barry Manilow type of thing. Barry has been more successful than God. He’s a good songwriter and a good entertainer, and he makes you feel good for a short period of time. That’s what we want. What Merle Haggard and Kris Kristofferson and Billy Joe Shaver and Willie and Bob Dylan do is give you a song that stays with you for a lifetime and makes you think.