Beside his house, out past the lush flower gardens and natural areas tended by his wife Linda, the three or four barking dogs of various sizes, the assorted cats and the veritable symphony of birds, up the steps and around an old waterwell, premier Charlotte-area singer/songwriter David Childers keeps a small storage room.
Inside is a large table, Waltons-sized, covered with model prop airplanes, miniature soldiers, cottonball smoke-puffs wafting forth from pint-sized cannons, baby bonsai-style foliage and multiple Liliputian villages, all in varying states of disrepair. A battle has been fought. There have been triumphs. There have been some tragedies, too.
And so it goes in life. Having made it through a recent health scare, Childers views this set-up — where he hosts regular “war games” with fellow enthusiasts — as a way to blow off steam and have a little fun. For Childers, playing these games serves a similar purpose as the music he makes with his band, the Modern Don Juans: It’s healing, regenerating and a fine way to kill a few hours with good friends. But there’s more overlap than you might think. In both his songwriting and his favorite pastime, Childers is an extremely talented miniaturist, able to condense the world into small packages. He’s also a tireless fighter who won’t stop until he makes things right. He uses the dark as a guide to finding the light. And no matter what, he insists on having fun along the way.
Consider his new album, Jailhouse Religion (Little King), a document of Childers’ personal Reconstruction. Due out nationally in February, the album has already received some favorable attention beyond the QC. The Don Juans recently performed — along with Nanci Griffith, the legendary folksinger Odetta and others — on the prestigious Mountain Stage (www.mountainstage.org), and Childers was recently interviewed on megacritic Dave Marsh’s “Kick out the Jams” show on Sirius satellite radio. This is prime ministry time for Reverend Childers to preach the Jailhouse Religion gospel near and far.
And Childers has plenty to preach. “I’ve been throwing ideas down on one of these old-timey black box cassette recorders that you can still buy at the Radio Shack,” he says. “I’m puking out ideas right now. I’ll try to turn it into paint and paint some new songs one of these days. The band and I have done some good writing over the year. We have enough for two more records right now.”
Like most great artists, David Christian Childers’ artistic evolution has been determined through natural selection and not self-conscious style-mongering. As life meanders along, he keeps what matters to him and jettisons the old weight. He adapts to change — or ignores it, as the case may be.
“I hate to think that I will keep playing the same songs over and over,” Childers says. “I don’t think I do that now. Some fans complain because there are a lot of songs by now, and lots of records to hear the songs on. And thank God those people like them, and they want to hear their favorites. But I might not even remember how to play the songs they want to hear, unless I had a few minutes to practice them. I just have to keep it fresh and keep developing new stuff because I quit feeling it after a while unless there’s something new to be excited and scared about.”
Childers credits his band (new additions Mark Lynch on bass and Randy Saxon on guitar and banjo, along with son Robert on drums) with providing the necessary fuel to stoke his latest round of creative firestorms.
“It feels right with these guys. There’s a great balance. We’re all aiming at the same target. More of a team than I’ve ever had. I’ve been blessed with great players in the past, but too often they had their own agenda and it kept us from fully harnessing the creative and performance energy that I wanted. It’s like a good marriage. Nobody’s cheating too much.”
As for the 14 newbirth tunes on Jailhouse Religion, Childers hastens to add that he’s not embarrassed by them, or even bored. He’s just … used to them by now, having called their names near-nightly for almost a year.
“Some, like ‘Chains of Sadness,’ have been hidden away in closets, like forgotten children, waiting for a time to walk into the backyard and hear the roosters crowing from far away across the graveyard hills,” says Childers in his Childersian way.
Yes, he likes them all plenty. He’s just waiting for the time when they can live on their own.
David Childers plays the Comet Grill’s Christmas Party on Dec. 17. For more info, call the restaurant at 704-371-4300 or visit www.davidchilders.com or www.thecometgrill.com.
This article appears in Dec 14-20, 2005.
