08/17/2025
DAVID CHILDERS INTERVIEW BY PARKE PUTERBAUGH just released! See below!
David Childers is a hugely talented singer-songwriter whose music leans in several different directions, often at the same time. Like Bob Dylan and Townes Van Zant, heās a folksinger whose words scan like poetry. Thereās a touch of country in Childersā work, both in the old-school style of Hank Williams and the literate outlaw approach of Steve Earle and Guy Clark. Heās got a spitfire rock and roll side, too, especially when heās working with a full band. His songs and delivery recall Johnny Cashās rugged, down-to-earth approach. Both men exhibit a sharp eye for storytelling and detail rooted in everyday experience. Childers' voice is plainspoken and conversational, and his words are both artful and artless: poetry without pretense. Heās not overly fond of the term Americana (āIt makes me yawn,ā he says), but it probably comes closest to describing his seamless embrace of various rootsy styles.
Born and raised in Mount Holly, North Carolina, Childers still lives there. That doesnāt mean heās never gotten out of town. As a teenager he attended military school in Virginia. He was an undergraduate English major at UNC-Chapel Hill, earned an MFA in poetry at UNC-Greensboro, and then got his law degree at Campbell University. Once Childers hit the road as a late-blooming touring musician at the age of thirty-eight, he probably wound up logging as many miles on I-40 as some long-haul truckers. In addition to building a following in the Southeast, he cultivated pockets of fandom in places like Cleveland, Ohio. His music has even taken him to Europe.
Behind Childersā affable drawl and easygoing demeanor lies the soul of a polymath. He is first and foremost an accomplished musician, having released fifteen albums dating back to the mid-1990s. For his celebrated body of work as a performer and recording artist, Childers will be inducted into the North Carolina Music Hall of Fame on October 16th. But music is just one facet of Childersā broad creative palate. He is also a visual artist in a folk-art style. Some might call him an outsider artist. His visionary paintings adorn his album covers and are exhibited in galleries and sold to aficionados. Like his songs, his artworks illuminate hidden corners of human existence with an empathetic eye toward what songwriter Delbert McClinton called āvictims of lifeās circumstances.ā Thereās abundant religious imagery, too, reflecting the Southern gothic tradition.
Childers also writes poetry. Before he ever recorded a song, a collection of poems entitled American Dusk was published in 1977. On a whole other track, for more than three decades his main gig was practicing law. He was also an athlete, playing football, basketball and rugby for various school, club and city teams. He learned to read Latin and is a voracious student of history. To state the obvious, Childers is a man of many interests and talents.
A conversation with David Childers is like taking a high-tech hayride. At first he might strike you as a Sam Ervin-type country lawyer with an unhurried, folksy drawl. Ninety minutes later you realize your casual gravel-road ramble has actually been more like a trip on the interstate, in terms of milage and scenery covered. Subjects veer from songwriting to beat generation literature to James Garfieldās grave in Cleveland to the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam to bars in Chapel Hill to clubs in Nashville to the tone of Miles Davisās horn to the punk-rock band X ā¦ and on and on.
When Childers builds up a head of steam, he starts saying āmanā and āyou knowā a lot. They function as interjections that add a certain rhythm to his conversational flow. You can almost tap your foot while he talks. At the end of the interview I learned it was his seventy-fourth birthday on that very day. I felt like I was the one whoād been given a present by getting to talk to him for so long. It struck me that this native son is a true character whose feisty creative spirit belies his age. By all means come out and see this NC legend at The Back Table this afternoon from 2pm-4pm. Tickets are $25 at the door.
Here is an edited version of our freewheeling interview.
In surveying your work, which extends into so many areas, Iām reminded of a line from Walt Whitman, rather recently appropriated by Bob Dylan as a song title: āI contain multitudes.ā Are you familiar with that?
No, Iām not. āI contain multitudes.ā It makes sense. That sounds like old Walt. I was actually making a collage today with him in it.
Youāve had a lot of varied interests and pursuits in your life: art, poetry, songwriting, performing.
Yeah, I guess thatās just how I am. I get bored easily. I feel very fortunate and blessed to be doing what Iāve always wanted to do, which is to be an artist and play music.
How early in life did you realize you had artistic instincts and a creative streak?
Probably when I was seven or eight years old. I used to draw a lot. I didnāt think much of it. I had a cousin that drew. My brother and mom drew. She also read a lot. We had a lot of books and cool records and stuff around the house. My mom was like a liberated woman back in the 1950s. And I had this cool uncle whoād come up here and bring records and books. Then I had this other cousin who was into literature and music and stuff. My dad was the only straight person in the family! (laughs) He actually started out wanting to be a writer but he went to law school and was kind of a politician. But he always encouraged me.
What kind of cool records did you have in your house?
Well, folk music like The Newport Folk Festival 1960. Woody Guthrie, Hank Williams, Louis Prima, Elvis Presley. Stuff like that. It just ran the gamut. You talk about variety, that was pretty much the way it was. You could walk down the halls and look on the bookshelf or go to the record player. My brother turned me on to Bob Dylan when I was about fourteen. Thatās when I really started writing seriously. I was memorizing a lot of his lyrics. I remember walking home from school one day when I was about fifteen. I was like, āWhy donāt you take the meter and the syntax of āGates of Edenā and write your own lyrics to it?ā Which was the kind of thing he had done, certainly. Thatās a pretty tried and true method. And thatās how I knew I was writing poetry. I never thought Iād be a performing musician, but I had a lot of encouragement. There was a lady next door who would type up my poems for me. I got a typewriter when I was sixteen and went off to military school for my last two years of high school. I took that typewriter with me and just had a blast on it.
Your first album, Godzilla! He Done Broke Out, came out in 1994. What label put that out?
My wife and I did it on our own dime. I borrowed some money and recorded over in Charlotte at a place called the Sonic Cafe. Itās actually a pretty good record. I was trying to break into the folk music scene. My band was David Childers and the Mount Holly Hellcats. (chuckles) There was a label called Rank Records that put out the next album, Time Machine. They also reissued Godzilla. The Rank Outsiders was a band from Charlotte, and that was their label. They took me under their wing and took me to Nashville, where we did Time Machine. When I got back I was like, āWhy go to Nashville when thereās studios in Charlotte that are just as good?ā I donāt really have much use for Nashville, though I know some really good people there, like Jim Lauderdale. Heās been a good friend to me and my music.
Your opinion of Nashville is evident in a song called āStreets of Nashville,ā which is not a terribly positive view of Music City. The line that sticks out is, āYouāre not what weāre looking for.ā
Thatās what I ran into, totally. āYouāre too left wing.ā Thatās what Iād hear. And Iād say, āWell, Iām proud to be left wing, and I donāt make no bones about.ā
Did you ever live in Nashville?
Hell, no! I had no desire to do that. Iāve been back in Mount Holly since 1981. I started practicing law then and I quit in 2016. But I started really playing music out seriously about 1990, and I was doing both law and music.
Did you ever get ideas for songs from your law practice?
Oh yeah. Mostly just from living. You know, a lot of that stuff is just made up. I used to write short stories. I wrote a lot of poetry. I studied poetry in Chapel Hill under this lady named Carolyn Kizer. She was a poet in residence. She introduced me to all these great writers like Robert Creeley. I met William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Ed Dorn. There was a bunch of āem. Iād go to her house and weād read poems. Thereād be these great poets, and weād drink and get to know one another. Creeley was particularly kind to me. He wanted me to come up there to Buffalo for graduate school, and Carolyn wanted me to go to Columbia, and Iām like, naaahhhā¦ I got married right out of college. I went to UNC-Greensboro and got an MFA. I was there from 1975 to 1977. I also had a job at the Greensboro News & Record.
What were you doing at the N&R?
I was the low man on the totem pole. I sold classified ads on the telephone.
You did that while you were studying poetry and literature at UNCG?
Yeah, thatās right. And I was playing music down at Aliciaās, which was a little club in a basement on Tate Street. I was playing rugby, too. But my main thing was writing, and I was getting published in a lot of small magazines.
Like Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Steve Earle, you have a solo acoustic side but also often work with a full band.
I love doing both. Iāve never turned down gigs, if I can help it. Iāve got a great band. Iāve been through a lot, you know: rock stars, egomaniacs, drunks, drug addicts. The guys Iāve got now are just as steady as they can be. And theyāre just about the music. Weāre all on the same page with the same idea in mind, and it translates to the audience. Weāre getting really good ones these days.
What kind of music do you listen to for pleasure?
I still listen to Dylan, Van Morrison, Michael Hurley ā thatās a guy I came to like a lot. Miles Davis, John Coltrane. Thereās a lot of other jazz musicians I picked up on through those guys, ācause I didnāt really know much about it. I used to hate jazz. But I remember one night I got Miles Davisās Kind of Blue and sat out in my yard, and there was a point where I was like, āThis is just brilliant stuff right here!ā Iād recognize his horn anywhere. Heās got the sweetest tone.
Who do you consider part of your musical community?
Thereās a lot of people around here, particularly younger people. Youāve never heard of them yet. Thereās local bands that are just really good. We kind of nurture our own scene around here. A band called Shinyribs [a nine-piece band from Texas], who used to be the Gourds, theyāve been good to me. Weād get a lot of lot of gigs with them. Scott Miller [a notable singer-songwriter from Virginia] has been real good to me. Malcolm Holcombe [a revered North Carolina singer-songwriter who passed in 2024] was a really good friend, and I miss him. Matter of fact, he needs to be in the North Carolina Hall of Fall of Fame, and Iām gonna work on his induction, ācause he deserves it.
You made an album with Greensboroās own Bruce Piephoff, who was another graduate of UNC-Greensboroās MFA writing program. It was called Army Town Madrigal, and it came out in 2016.
Bruce is dead now, too. (pauses) I liked Bruce a lot, and that was a pretty good old record. That was fun. We recorded that here at my house, pretty much
I should probably ask about your friendship with the Avett Brothers. Were they helpful?
Oh, those guys have been great to me, man! Theyāre from Concord, which aināt far from here. I met them through my son, Robert. He was a big fan of theirs. He said, āThese guys are like bluegrass punk-rock!ā This was in the late 1990s. To me, they were like kids. I didnāt take them that seriously, but we did a few shows together. Then there came where it was like, āOh, weāre not going to do anymore shows with you ācause weāre hitting the big time.ā We kind of fell out for a while but Bob Crawford [the Avettsā bass player] helped us reconcile. You know, those guys started playing a couple of my songs, and it just made a huge difference. That was a really significant thing.
You made a couple albums with Bob Crawford as the Overmountain Man.
He was the producer, he financed them and played on āem. Thing is, I reached this point around 2007 where I was just sick of myself. I didnāt wanna see my name in print. I didnāt even wanna hear my name. I didnāt wanna play out anymore, and I just quit playing for a while. Bob got me off my ass. I sent him some lyrics, and he went and hired a bunch of musicians down at East Carolina. He was sending me these recordings where heād written the melodies. Bob got me to start doing it again, and Iām really glad he did. Eventually I just started using my own name again. But we made a couple of really good records as the Overmountain Men. Iāll stand by those records. I still play a lot of those songs.
You mentioned Johnny Cash. You have a song called āThe Young Drunk,ā which sounds like something he couldāve recorded in his early days at Sun Records.
Do you remember the New Establishment? I wound up there on of my first days in Chapel Hill. It was a great place, and the guy that ran it, Dave, was just a saint. Dave kind of helped me keep my s**t together, as much as I could. I was an alcoholic, you know, and I wrote the song about that. Chapel Hill in the old days was a whole different place. My dad and my cousin went there. Iād go up there and it was just magic back in the 1950s and 1960s. I got exposed to so much.
You were an English major at UNC. What did you study?
I got into creative writing. I loved Thomas Wolfe and Jack Kerouac. Kerouac was a huge influence on me. I read all the books of his I could get when I was a freshman. When I went to college it wasnāt to get out of the Vietnam draft. I wanted to learn about literature and art. I wanted to expand my horizons. Shakespeare in particular. They had these classics courses, and I loved those things. I took all of them I could.
Did you get your law degree there?
No, I went to Campbell University. They wouldnāt accept me at Chapel Hill. Iām glad I went to Campbell. It was down in the damn to***co country. There wasnāt anything to do but study. I had just quit drinking, and it was good for me.
Youāve addressed drinking and partying in your songs. But youāve also made a couple of gospel albums. You represent both Saturday night and Sunday morning in your work.
(laughs) Well, yeah! Iāve written some songs and I enjoy gospel music ā certain kinds, like the Louvin Brothers. Iām a Christian. Christ is a very important part of my life. I donāt make a big deal about it. I just try to live it.
