Morgan Orion does not seem to know it’s the future.

Donning a button-down sweater vest and clutching a stainless steel teakettle in his right hand, the 22-year-old Champaign musician opens his front door.

“Want some tea?” he asks, as he walks into the kitchen and fumbles through a cupboard. He doesn’t wait for a response.

He prepares two mugs of tea and whisks them down to his instrument-littered studio in the basement, where a vinyl Beach Boys’ “Pet Sounds” is crackling its fourth, B-side track.

“I guess I just wasn’t made for these tiiiiiiiimes,” Orion subconsciously echoes, as he carefully situates himself on a wooden chair in the center of the dim room.

He scratches his head; tugs at a section of untamed, wavy blond hair until it sticks out parallel to the floor; and exhales after a long sip of peppermint tea.

“So where are you from?” he asks, setting down his mug and picking up an acoustic guitar just to hold something.

Orion is genuinely interested. His finely tuned ears have detected a slightly different accent he likes but can’t pinpoint. It’s bugging him.

When he learns the voice is that of a Wisconsinite’s, he has another question.

“Do you know Jeremiah Nelson?” he probes, referring to a Madison, Wis., musician he admires. “No?”

He walks in an excited, jittery manner in the direction of his computer, which sits reticent in a dark corner presumably loaded with Nelson songs. On the way, however, the lull of the record player distracts him. He forgets his original mission and switches out “Pet Sounds” for an album featuring Jonathan Richman — a veteran Velvet Underground-inspired musician known for low-key instrumental backing and lyrics expressing a child-like outlook on life. Orion is often compared to Richman.

Orion takes a seat again and just listens for a while to the cranked-up lyrics. A minute passes. His left foot, clad in a meticulously tied suede boot, keeps perfect rhythm. He is someplace else.

Then his lips begin to move. The music is just loud enough that his voice is inaudible. He realizes it after a few seconds and jitters over to twist the volume so low it’s nearly off. He doesn’t like music as background noise.

“I hate distractions,” he explains, noting he doesn’t have TV or Internet. “I don’t think people should have Internet on their bodies at all times. I think smartphones are pretty f***ed up.”

Orion’s attraction to a simpler time comes through in his music. His recently released album “Lovesick” is a lyric-heavy nod to ‘50s rock ‘n roll, doo-wop and country.

“I went through a phase where I was buying and fixing up typewriters and distributing them to my friends,” he mentions, smiling in spite of himself. “I guess I wanted to start a typewriter community.”

Orion himself is the proud owner of a Royal Quiet DeLuxe typewriter, which was manufactured in 1950. At home, he types poetry and song lyrics on it. When he’s on the go, though, he finds scribbling phrases on napkins or candy wrappers more practical. Song ideas strike at any time.

Orion calls his music-making process “organic.” He makes music like he makes soup.

“I don’t have a recipe, but I’m not just throwing stuff together,” Orion expounds, as he strums lightly on his guitar. “I know what the carrots go with, just like I know what chords compliment each other.”

Once, in a creative burst, Orion typed several verses on a piece of paper. Then he cut them apart and scrambled them up. He got a nice song out of the process, but he didn’t believe it was successful because he couldn’t “feel” it. He believes his successful songs make him simultaneously happy and heartbroken because they celebrate all of his emotions.

Orion credits his music abilities to his family members, who continue to inspire him with their many talents. His sister is a playwright in New Orleans, where Orion goes twice a year to play with random musicians he has befriended. He’s considering moving there.

“I will always want a relationship with Champaign-Urbana,” he states, noting his excitement for his next local show — 5-8 p.m. Friday, March 2, at Potbelly Sandwich Shop, 501 E. Green. “But New Orleans is so collaborative and friendly. I feel like there’s always a period of dormancy here because of the winter, but the music stays alive in New Orleans because there’s no winter there.”

Unfortunately for Orion, one aspect is lacking in both Champaign and New Orleans.

“I wish there’d be more dancing in the streets,” he adds, as he noiselessly sets down his guitar. “Why not?”