Tyler Childers has made a career out of doing things differently. The Lawrence County, Kentucky native first built a grassroots following with his left-of-center country style, becoming a cult figure respected for his traditionally informed take on the genre and his unabashed authenticity. Now, he's one of country music's favorite outsider voices — and he continues to move the needle with his Elvis-inspired sixth album, Rustin' in the Rain.
While Childers first gained acclaim with his second studio album, 2017's Purgatory, his 2011 debut, Bottles & Bibles, hinted at what was to come. That record was raw and stripped-down, with spare production putting the spotlight firmly on his narrative-driven lyrics and his now-beloved soulful drawl. In the years between its release and Purgatory's, Childers further honed his songwriting and his singing by touring relentlessly with his band, the Food Stamps, which also helped build the fan base that would rabidly support Purgatory.
Childers was one of the first of a new generation of country artists to reject the traditional machinations of Nashville's Music Row in favor of building grassroots support for making music on their own terms. He did so following in the footsteps of another Kentuckian, Sturgill Simpson, who also famously avoids media, shares little about his personal life, and can be unpredictable with the timing and scope of his projects.
It's fitting, then, that Simpson (alongside David Ferguson) would produce Purgatory, with his own critical clout and cult success functioning like a stamp of approval for the then-relatively unknown new artist. Purgatory tied together Childers' many influences, which span bluegrass, gospel, blues and outlaw country. The LP opens with the hardscrabble old-time of opener "I Swear (to God)," whose Biblical allusions ("workin' on a building outta hand-hewn brimstone") won't be the last we hear from Childers in his work.
To Childers' seeming dismay, Purgatory resonated more with Americana audiences than the country music industry — even despite his unabashedly country sound and heavily narrative songwriting, much of which nods to traditional country themes like labor, poverty and faith. That conflict came to a head when he won Emerging Artist of the Year at the 2018 Americana Honors and Awards, where he reluctantly accepted the award and told the audience, "As a man who identifies as a country music singer, I feel Americana ain't no part of nothing and is a distraction from the issues that we're facing on a bigger level as country music singers. It kind of feels like purgatory."
That purgatory is faced by many country artists who don't fit the genre's mold, which traditionally prioritizes straight, white, cisgender men or artists who hew closely to the Music Row formula du jour. And though Childers may fit the demographic, he decidedly doesn't adhere to the genre's clichés: Nowhere in his discography will you hear lyrics about back roads or pickup trucks, or the pop-heavy country fusion popular on current country radio.
Growing in notoriety on the strength of Purgatory, Childers returned with 2019's Country Squire. Another Simpson/Ferguson-produced joint, the album earned the singer his first No. 1 on Billboard's Top Country Albums chart, as well as his first Grammy nomination — in the Country Field, no less, as "All Your'n" received a nod for Best Country Solo Performance in 2020. Country Squire wasn't a far cry, sonically or thematically, from Purgatory, but it did establish Childers' staying power and laid sturdier groundwork for the more experimental projects he would later release.
Childers was only able to tour Country Squire for a few months before the pandemic shut down the music industry. Like many artists, the unexpected break led him into an introspective period, which birthed his 2020 record, Long Violent History, a political statement framed as a fiddle album. Written and recorded in the wake of the police murder of George Floyd, Long Violent History is the most potent of Childers' early political statements, a middle finger to the establishment as well as a heartfelt rebuke of part of the singer's own complex Southern culture.
Childers caps Long Violent History with its title track, a biting rebuke of racial violence that seeks to bridge the empathy gap between white working Southerners and their Black neighbors. In one of the song's most affecting verses, Childers sings, "How many boys could they haul off this mountain, shoot full of holes, cuffed, and laid in the streets/ 'Til we come in to town in a stark ravin' anger, Looking for answers and armed to the teeth."
Long Violent History punctured any notion that Childers was an artist afraid to make a statement. And on its follow-up, the triple gospel album, 2022's Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven?, Childers once again bucked the conservatism typically associated with country music. That's especially heard on lead single "Angel Band," on which Childers sings of his interpretation of heaven ("There's Hindus, Jews and Muslims/ And Baptists of all kinds") and the assertion that Jesus "ain't a blue-eyed man."
The structure of that LP is also unorthodox, as Childers recorded three versions — "Hallelujah," stripped down and live in the studio; "Jubilee," more fleshed-out production; and "Joyful Noise," remixed and including samples — of each of the record's eight tracks. In addition to the project's retro sonic palette, Childers again nods to his traditional country influences with a cover of Hank Williams' "Old Country Church," and even revisits his own material with an updated version of "Purgatory."
Rather than returning with a more typical full-length LP, Childers followed Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven? with the rowdy and rollicking Rustin' in the Rain, which sits at a tight but potent seven tracks. Sonically, the album sounds almost vintage, as Childers has explained that he wrote and chose tracks as though he would be pitching material to Elvis. Even so, the music still connects back to earlier Childers releases: opener "Rustin' in the Rain," with its jaunty piano and soulful vocal, wouldn't sound out of place on Purgatory; "Luke 2:8-10" continues Childers' tradition of incorporating Biblical imagery into his music; and "Percheron Mules" is the latest in a long line of Childers tunes that celebrate rural living.
And in signature Childers fashion, Rustin' in the Rain features another major statement piece — this time with a lead single, titled "In Your Love." The track's accompanying video allows Childers space to advocate for LGBQTIA+ rights, as he tapped friend and queer Southern author Silas House to co-write a deeply tender video treatment telling the story of two men meeting in a coal mine and falling hopelessly in love. The clip is sweet and intense, with the kind of sweeping love story made for the movies and — in country music, especially — typically reserved for the depiction of straight couples.
The track was inspired by Childers' cousin, who was his "first tough critic." "[I was] just thinking about him not having a music video on CMT that spoke to him," Childers told NPR's Ann Powers upon the song's release. Throughout the interview, he stressed the need for making a statement — as he's done since the start of his career. "Even if you have the privilege of walking through this world unfazed, it's more important than ever to stand with and for and up for things, to be vocal," he added.
Although Childers has yet to break through on country radio, "In Your Love" proved to be one of his most effective statements to date. The song scored Childers his first top 10 on Billboard's Hot Country Songs chart, also landing him on the all-genre Billboard Hot 100 for the first time in his career. And with a headlining arena tour — his first full arena trek — set for 2024, Childers is clearly continuing to grow his audience by simply staying true to himself.
Whether or not he becomes a commercial darling, Childers has cemented his status as one of country music's more interesting, boundary-pushing artists. That seems to suit him just fine, as he continues to show new sides of his artistry without pandering to the sounds of the day. Like he declared on Purgatory, he's creating his own lane: "right now, I am focused on the universal sound."