Tyler Childers Fused Empathy with Psychedelia at Fort Worth Show

Any review of Tyler Childers’ work must begin with the voice. Yet to describe his vocals can, at times, feel like a fool’s errand. It is, as Pitchfork says, a “scuffed-up twang.” But that’s just scratching the surface. Childers’ vocals are riddled with sorrow. It’s the vocal equivalent of a cigarette, a glass of bourbon and a story that’s been passed down too many times to count. It’s like he’s reaching down through generations of his Kentucky homeland and pulling up all the joy and heartbreak his people have ever experienced. And while there are plenty of incredible voices in country music right now (Colter Wall, anyone?), it’s safe to say there is no one with a voice like this, let alone the lyrical prowess to match. 

At a concert in Fort Worth’s Dickies Arena on Saturday, Childers showed off that voice, that lyrical mastery and the penchant for psychedelia that have helped him carve out a niche in today’s country landscape. The show was a rundown of some of his greatest songs, including, of course, “All Your’n,” a love letter that has likely served as a crash course in the Childers style to many new fans. By the time he got to that track (sixth on his setlist), most of the crowd had joined their voices with his. They waved their phone lights in the air and sang at the top of their lungs, likely hoping they could drown the hurt. That’s the other thing about a Childers song: Even the happy ones contain a clear knowledge that darkness is never far away. You have to keep scrapping your way to the light. 

The show was part of the “Mule Pull '24 Tour,” a nod to a particularly biting story from his Kentucky upbringing. He grew up playing guitar and doing landscape work in and around Lexington, and one year, the mill where he worked asked him to play some music at the office Christmas party. Childers tried to impress with a tie and some nice shoes, only to be told by a man at the party that he looked like “a mule looking over a picket fence.”

“I thought, ‘I’m a mule,’” he told The New York Times last fall. “I’m a poor working man’s animal, and I’m looking over the fence in somebody else’s yard. Do I even belong here?”

The artist reclaimed the image of a mule on the cover of his latest album, Rustin’ in the Rain. He holds a mule in one hand while staring you dead in the eye, daring you to doubt the mule’s majesty.

The concert itself was full of animal sights and sounds. An animated mule pull acted as a countdown to the start of the show, and the first several songs were played in front of a large screen showcasing psychedelic images of fish, cows and pugs. At one point, Childers’ band, The Food Stamps, conducted a jam session alongside sounds of a roosters’ incessant crowing.

Much of the first half was loaded with fan favorites, including several songs from Country Squire, the 2019, Sturgill Simpson-produced album that catapulted Childers to fame. On songs like “Creeker,” Childers punched the notes with such ferocity that the veins in his neck stuck out like shallow purple rivers. At other times, he was the picture of serenity, tuning his violin for the next song while his band raged on behind him.

The Food Stamps — a bunch of guys from Kentucky and Tennessee, as Childers tells it — brought everything from an accordion to a fiddle to a synth and an upright bass. Their frontman would often step back from his mic to survey their versatility, nodding his head to their playing like an appreciative teacher. The highlight, though, was the storytelling these instruments made possible.

Childers, now 32 and sober, has been vocal about his history of drug abuse, and songs like “I Swear (to God)” are laced with references to forgotten nights and rough mornings. When paired with his grief-laden voice and the vibrato he often employs, these tunes sound more like self-indictments than anything anyone would ever want to emulate. More often, though, the stories are about the people who populate his home — people he wants to both make proud and push outside their comfort zone.

He played four songs — including “Follow You to Virgie” and “Shake the Frost” — alone on stage with nothing but a guitar, belting out confessions of love that double as appreciation for Kentucky, its nature and the humble strivers who live among the mountains. He also sang a stripped-down version of “Nose on the Grindstone,” a lament of the opioid crisis ravaging Appalachia. When his band rejoined him for “In Your Love,” it was impossible not to think of the song’s music video, which features a love story between two male coal miners. The video was the latest attempt by Childers to infuse his work with the kind of empathy he feels has been lacking from his genre.

“The problem with country,” he told The Guardian in 2019, “is we’ve turned the props into the play. Let’s not just Solo cup and pickup truck to death. Let’s handle this in a smart way. Nobody is thinking about lyrical content, or how we’re moving people, or what’s going on in the background of their minds.”

A year later, when fellow Kentuckian Breonna Taylor was killed by police, Childers felt compelled to release a video addressing the inspiration behind his album Long Violent History. It was inspired, he said, by stories like Taylor’s.

He didn’t play that song for the Fort Worth crowd, but every song he sang was overflowing with the kind of empathy he yearns for his countrymen to adopt.

“People are like, ‘Oh, you are so brave,’” he told the Times, in reference to his support for racial equity and LGBTQ+ rights. “I think it’s sad that’s a brave thing. To me, it’s just about love. And that’s all it ought to be.”

With that knowledge, it’s clear every song is about much more than his love for Senora May, his wife and fellow musician. From “House Fire” to “Heart You’ve Been Tendin’” Childers’ tracks are about devotion and respect. They are, ultimately, about working to be the best version of yourself. That’s the best way we, like the mighty mule, can be of use. 

“Like a team of mules, pulling hell off from its hinges,” he sings on “In Your Love,” “it's for love that I'll keep tendin.’ I will work for you.”