Tyler Childers' sold-out Ruoff stop gives me hope for the future of country music

I’m a country music fan who hates country music.

Well, mainstream country. Pretty much anything released since the mid-2000s.

Traditional country has always prided itself on storytelling songs — ballads and dance tunes featuring straightforward vocals and instrumentation that includes banjos, guitars and fiddles. If you want to wax poetic about it, you can think of classic country as America's heartsong.

But the music on country radio today feels fake. It’s produced to hell. The instrumentation and vocals don’t differ much from pop or rock, complete with electronically created beats and plenty of Auto-Tune. If there’s a hint of traditional country — a stray banjo, guitar, harmonica, fiddle — it’s mixed so poorly that listeners can barely detect it.

It’s just… noise.

To make it worse, mainstream country lyrics lack authenticity, the trait long heralded as making country the definitive American genre. And fans like me are hungry for that authenticity.

That’s why artists like Tyler Childers sell out arenas and amphitheaters around the country. It's why my colleague in Nashville dubbed Childers "America's next favorite country artist" after attending his April performance.

The Tennesean's Marcus Dowling: Tyler Childers' Nashville concert makes powerful case for why he may be America's next favorite country artist

Tickets for Childers' June 27 Ruoff Music Center disappeared in minutes — I couldn’t get out of the Ticketmaster waiting room, let alone into a queue to try to snag a seat. And the response has been similar for many of the stops along his Mule Pull ’24 Tour.

It’s because Childers offers something real. He tells us stories of people from small towns facing big issues, who are trying to navigate life and love and have fun while doing it.

Childers is associated, by some, with neotraditional country, a subgenre rooted in “traditional” instrumentation and presentation, featuring guitar, banjo, harmonica, mandolin, fiddle and stripped-down vocals. The style is often characterized as a response to the blandness on the mainstream charts.  I grew up in the now-nostalgic '90s, full of artists considered part of this movement — stars even non-country fans might know, like George Strait, Randy Travis and Reba McEntire.

The success of Childers' tour and the successes of artists like Sturgill Simpson, Jason Isbell and Billy Strings demonstrate that we’re reaching an inflection point in which legions of country fans crave a return to the genre’s roots.

And they don’t need smoke or lights to sell it.

Meet Johnny Blue Skies: Sturgill Simpson to release new album, visit Nashville's Bridgestone Arena in October

Whose truth are we telling?

Country music has long branded itself as “three chords and the truth.” But the question we too often fail to explore is: Whose truth?

Country music was long seen as the music of working-class America. It told stories of people in flyover country, those of us who felt left behind by popular culture, who were working mines or plants or farms.

When I talk about authenticity, I'm speaking about a particular experience — a white experience — because let’s be honest, country music has, at no point, included Black Americans’ experiences and perspectives.

Hillbilly music, and by extension, country, would not exist without their influence. Hell, the banjo is an instrument stolen from the African Diaspora, but that’s another essay, and I'm going to direct your attention to Pulitzer Prize-winning artist and scholar Rhiannon Giddens.

In listening to what’s on country radio today, I’m loath to believe the genre represents any kind of reality lived by the majority of its fanbase. The music is like a caricature of country, glammed up and self-centered while claiming to represent people who are selfless and down-to-earth.

I get it — this stuff sells.

I’m not here to tell you what is and isn’t art. But I know what feels fake. And I know what I want from country music, and that's a story I can believe.

Music that helps make sense of the world around us

Some people listen to music to be entertained; others listen to find meaning. I’m the latter, looking for well-crafted lyrics that tell me a story and challenge me to think critically about the world around me.

Childers is from Lawrence County, Kentucky, not far from the West Virginia border and about an hour away from where Loretta Lynn was born a “Coal Miner’s Daughter.” But Childers often offers us a darker perspective of what it’s like to grow up in coal country.

When God spoke out, "Let there be light" / He put the first of us in the ground, he sings in “Coal.” And we'll keep on digging 'til the coming of the Lord and Gabriel's trumpet sounds / 'Cause if you ain't mining for the company, boy / There ain't much in this town

Lawrence County has a population of less than 17,000. It’s part of the Ohio-Kentucky-West Virginia tri-state region that has been devastated by the opioid epidemic. Only about 11% of residents have at least a bachelor's degree, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, and the median household income is less than $50,000. Childers sometimes leans into the grittier side of the life that might make a listener uncomfortable. His voice rips right through you, and his haunting delivery makes you pay attention.

That’s not to say Childers’ lyrics aren’t at times frivolous. Because life is more than the hard things we face. Country music has always been good about celebrating that, too.

The title track of “Rustin’ in the Rain,” his latest release, is a hilariously lustful romp featuring multiple extended metaphors that make the narrator a mule and a plow hoping to... be used. “Charleston Girl” includes perhaps my favorite bit of redneck shade (she’s working hard to make some sense / but she ain’t got a dime). The narrator of “Whitehouse Road” is asking for a good time to forget his troubles (get me drinkin' that moonshine / get me higher than the grocery bill).

And, true to the genre, he's got some dynamite love songs. In “All Your’n” — a song that at one point flooded my Instagram feed — he promises forever: I'll love you 'til my lungs give out.

The fans' response to the Childers tour is just one example of the popularity of this brand of authenticity. Jason Isbell, whose August 10 show at Everwise Amphitheater in White River State Park has limited tickets remaining, is winning Grammys for Americana performances (a category that often means: country that isn’t… that, and we don’t know what else to call it). Billy Strings’ country and bluegrass sound landed him two fast-selling nights at Gainbridge Fieldhouse this fall.

Before you say that stuff like this won't sell, let me remind you: come Thursday night, Childers will be joined by about 25,000 people screaming his lyrics back at him.

Tyler Childers at Ruoff Music Center: If you go

What: Tyler Childers' Mule Pull '24 Tour, supported by S.G. Goodman and Adeem the Artist

When: 7 p.m. June 27

Where: Ruoff Music Center, 12880 E. 146th St. in Noblesville

Tickets: Very limited tickets are available via Live Nation (livemu.sc/3Xtcx3s). Resale tickets are available via third-party sellers like Seat Geek (bit.ly/3za26Yh) and StubHub (bit.ly/3xpscGp).

Looking for things to do? Our newsletter has the best concerts, art, shows and more — and the stories behind them

Contact IndyStar pop culture reporter Holly Hays at [email protected]. Follow her on X/Twitter: @hollyvhays.

This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: Tyler Childers gives Holly Hays hope for the future of country music