Observations From a Tyler Childers Show—Minneapolis Armory 6.14.23.
Real Cowboys Wear Sleeves
Take one look at the filled-to-the-gills Armory that came out in support of Tyler Childers, and it made you wonder what percentage of his fanbase would also enjoy, say, the current King of country music, Morgan Wallen. Based on the crowd, the overlap would be surprisingly small between the Kentucky crooner Childers and the pride of East Tennessee, Wallen. The Childers crowd was nearly devoid of bro-country boys. If you happened to be wearing a sleeveless flannel like you were headed to a Halloween party dressed ironically as a red Solo cup country music fan, you would have been sorely out of place.
At least one Yellowstone t-shirt was seen in the crowd, but so was a Reggie Bush Saints jersey. Huh? If you were to kick the tires of Tyler’s fanbase, you better have steel toes on. They were dead serious. The average height had to be 6’3” (not great for floor seats at the Armory), facial hair was omnipresent, and most in attendance probably changed their own oil. Even the whistling was different after songs. You know that farm-strong, two-fingered whistle that only Grandma at the cabin can do when she calls everyone to supper (or dinner), well, seemingly 80% of the people in attendance could whistle just like that. Childers crowd weren’t the guys who watch Yellowstone, they were real life Rip Wheelers and the beautiful women they brought with them. A good place not to get in a fight: a Tyler Childers concert.
The Zach Bryan Effect
Tyler Childers has a rabid fan base. The Armory was jam packed, and Childers’ tickets were sizzling on the secondary market. Not only was the Armory crowded, but most in attendance knew every lyric to every Childers song, and they happily mouthed every word. The meteoric rise of Zach Bryan, who regularly name drops Childers, has only furthered Childers momentum.
If you’re more familiar with Zach Bryan, think of Tyler Childers as Zach Bryan’s older, cooler brother. Tyler is Zach’s Americana elder, ready to yell at Zach and hang him on the doorknob by his underwear if he ever catches him trying to sneak into his room to look at his records. While Bryan is already more popular than Childers, Tyler will always be cooler, borderline aloof. If you’re a hipster, Childers is recession proof—a Kentucky church singer that has more in common with Hank Williams Sr. than anything you’ll find on the radio.
Critics will always love a guy like Childers more than the equally authentic Bryan. Why? Because Childers doesn’t care what they think. Look no further than the fact that he doesn’t play his most popular song, “Feathered Indian,” at his live shows. Perhaps this is because “Feathered Indian” doesn’t quite land in woke-as-the-Washington-Commanders 2023. Regardless, Childers seems like the type of guy who wouldn’t play the hits because he’d get tired of them before everyone else. He doesn’t wear anything flashy when he performs, opting for a navy-blue long sleeve, and he even started the evening by wandering onto stage, sitting down, and playing a handful of songs acoustic with just his guitar by himself while sitting on a couch out of view for most in attendance, while occasionally stopping to mumble something no one could make out.
A Religious Experience
What most Childers fans love most about Tyler is his completely unique voice. He sounds like someone you’d find in a Southern church that has way better music than the one you go to on Sunday. Look no further than this vintage clip of a younger Childers singing “Shake the Frost” at the Huntington Music and Arts Festival.
Childers’ most recent album, Can I Take my Hounds to Heaven, leans into this spiritual side. And Childers had the neck hairs sitting and standing as often as a Palm Sunday service throughout his show covering Hank Sr.’s “Country Church,” and his original “Way of the Triune God.” It was enough to make you do the sign of the cross, if you didn’t have a drink in one hand and a spitter in the other.
The Uncool
Rock critic Lester Bangs famously said, “the only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool.”
Childers is known for his goofy music videos, and even the video projections he chose to display above the stage seemed like he wasn’t really trying very hard. It’s clear Childers has a sense of humor. Look no further than Childers straight from a Matthew McConaughey Master Class introduction of his band he’s perfected this tour. It’s worth the price of admission.
Childers is cool because he’s not trying to be cool. While he’s the type of ginger that’s cowboy enough to call “Red,” he’s still a ginger. And a lot more clean-cut than his Google images might have indicated. To look at him, you’d expect Childers to be speaking at an IT conference about the pratfalls of phishing scams, and the importance of not clicking on unknown emails from the outside. And then that voice comes out . . .
At one point Childers even used his platform to ask the crowd if anyone had an old tractor or some sort of vintage farm equipment, he hasn’t been able to find on the Internet, offering to trade a generous string of tickets for it. Nerdy and authentic in equal measure.
It’s no surprise that Childers isn’t down with the conceit of the encore either. Instead, he simply declares “this is the last song,” and it is. He runs the show.
A Universal Sound for America’s Great Divide
You’re not going to hear a “Let’s Go Brandon!” chant breakout at a Tyler Childers show. There are no bedazzled jeans or oversized belt buckles, just a mass of baseball cap wearing men and spaghetti strapped tank top women ranging in age from 18 to 70.
Near the end of the night, Childers’ played “Universal Sound” from his album Purgatory. It would seem this 2017 track is placed at the end of the setlist for a reason, or maybe a few. Noticeably absent from a Tyler Childers show is the sea of people watching the show through their phones instead of with their eyes. To the contrary, most in attendance were content to just dance, put their arm around the folks they came with, and sing along word for word. As Childers puts it in “Universal Sound:”
Ain't got bars, nor the charge to call her anyways
My mind's a mile a minute, and my thoughts they bark like hounds
I focus on my breathing and the universal sound
I think about the vices I've let take me over time
I recall when I was a baby, I didn't need nothing around
But a little bitty rattler and the universal sound
I'd close my eyes
It was all so clear
It was all right then
It was all right here
I focus on my breathing and the universal sound
“Universal Sound” is precisely the cosmic paddleboard ride we can all use these days. A reminder that all it takes for us all to come together is a few mason jars.
If America is indeed as divided as we think, the Childers crowd would seem to be the ones who will win in the end. A group of men and women with values as timeless as kids running rods in hand to a nearby watering hole. A group of people with priorities who know how to do things and get things done, content not to chase it, and with the presence of mind to remember to take a breath.
Amen.
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