Album Review – Tyler Childers – “Snipe Hunter”

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Indie rock-inspired Americana (#570.5) and Appalachian Music (#519) on the Country DDS.


It’s nowhere near as good as some of the hyperbolic proclamations being bandied about profess, and it’s not even close to the colossal letdown that others are alleging. It’s an album that finds Tyler Childers finally gracing fans with actual new, unheard material, showing off his knack for taking bumpkin-isms and making both hilarious and meaningful moments from them … and then Rick Rubin misunderstanding this material, and scuttling what otherwise would have been a pretty solid album, and still is in moments.

The Snipe Hunter starts off strong with an impassioned though tongue-in-cheek track called “Eatin’ Big Time” that captures Childers somewhat sarcastically bragging about his Gold and Platinum records and $1,000 watch. “Eatin’ big time” was like an inside joke between Childers and his entourage back when he still haunted social media. It underscores how Tyler is sometimes at his best when he can work his deadpan humor into the equation.

But as you go into the second song “Cuttin’ Teeth,” you immediately pick up on one of the biggest foibles of this record. Tyler Childers sounds like seven different singers during this 13-song album, with Rick Rubin either allowing or encouraging Childers to go places vocally that are unflattering. Along with all the other assets you can praise Childers for, he’s an incredible singer. The pain he brings, and the inflections that comes across so naturally to his tone is what has made Childers such an intriguing artist.

But whether it’s getting him to sing in unusual keys, running his vocal signal through unnecessary filters, or tasking him to scream out stanzas under some misguided notion this creates an emotive experience, the times that Tyler Childers actually sounds like Tyler Childers on this album are fleeting, and come most obviously in the two songs released early from the album, and the ones we already had previous versions of: “Oneida” and “Nose On The Grindstone.”

This same questionable approach of being experimental for experimental’s sake besets multiple songs on the album when it comes to production, arrangement, and music, especially in the second half. Some have claimed this is an album that’s more intentionally indie rock, and folks shouldn’t criticize it just because it’s not country. But most of the songs themselves are actually the folk-based Appalachian country Childers is known for. It’s the production that feels out of place, not audience expectations.

And though it’s easy to offer up Rick Rubin as the sacrificial cow for Snipe Hunter‘s weaker moments, if we’re being honest, some of Tyler’s new songs are somewhat weak as well. “Bitin’ List” is a silly song, but just like “Eatin’ Big Time,” it shows off the endearing humor of Tyler’s personality. However, “Down Under” is just a dumb song that sounds like it was written from boredom on a plane back home from an Australian tour. You allow for one or two silly songs from Childers. But Snipe Hunter has one or two too many.


Yet those that can’t find a reason to praise the album’s strong moments are selling themselves short. If we’d never heard “Oneida” and especially “Nose To The Grindstone” before, we would be lauding them as two of Tyler’s finest, because they are. It’s not this album’s fault other version have been worn out previously. “Getting To The Bottom” is a good song, even if it’s a key too low for Tyler’s vocal sweet spot. “Watch Out” and “Poachers” are solid tracks as well, and ones you look forward to seeing live.

There’s nothing political about this album at all, but “Tirtha Yatra” is certain religious, with Childers using the song to recall his exploration of Hinduism, even if it’s in done in his folksy, Appalachian attitude. The next song “Tomcat and a Dandy” is very Appalachian, but with “Hare Krishna” chants in the background, pulling it into the domain of the religious as well.

Tyler Childers should be allowed to explore his spirituality through his music, and both “Tirtha Yatra” and “Tomcat and a Dandy” are well-written Tyler Childers-style songs. It’s just the production once again that sours the experience. Both of these songs served more straight would have resulted in a much more entertaining and sustainable listening experience.

The final song “Dirty Ought Trill” that should have been the “Whitehouse Road” of this record, meaning song exploiting the best of Tyler’s knack for building characters and bringing them alive with Appalachian vernacular. But the track’s turned into some pseudo hip-hop thing that ultimately becomes one of the primary culprits for people registering their strong disappointment with this record since it’s the last thing they hear. And just like on the first song on the album, there’s unusual overcussing that doesn’t work toward emphasis, but comes across more like a 12-year-old just learning to swear.

With the strong and fresh material that Tyler Childers brought to this project, Snipe Hunter could have been a retrenching, revitalizing album for his career that overall has been coasting off the strength of the now 8 year old Purgatory. It could have been what Weathervanes was to Jason Isbell, or The Price of Admission is to the Turnpike Troubadours. Instead, there’s too much weirdness misunderstood as creativity or “boundary pushing” to resonate deeply.

For all we know, Rick Rubin is the brilliant producer he gets credit for. But he doesn’t know his way around Appalachian folk music. That’s made clear by the results of Snipe Hunter. If Rick Rubin did anyone a favor, it was Cody Jinks who released his new album In My Blood the same day. The contrast between the Cody Jinks album really makes a strong case for artists sticking to what they do best as opposed to wild experimentation under a misguided notion of exploring creativity.

Tyler Childers chose to work with Rick Rubin, and made a purposeful effort to include more original material on this new album under the correct notion that what he’d done one his last few releases wasn’t working, or at least as good as it could be. But it’s fair to assess that when it comes to making albums, Childers is still searching for his compass point after parting with Sturgill Simpson as producer.



Nonetheless, this album benefits from subsequent listens. Since it intentionally challenges the listener, and makes such wild mood swings in approach, giving some time for the strength of the written material and some of the better tracks to reveal themselves is strongly advised. This is not a bad album. No matter your tastes, most anyone can cherry pick their way through it and find some good stuff.

So why are we seeing such a strong negative reaction to Snipe Hunter, even more so than some of the questionable production deserves? It’s the same reason some are calling it the best album of the year, even though it’s still July. Often when you have a big release like this, there is one select, “exclusive” feature released. In this case it was a puff piece by Marissa R. Moss in GQ.

“He’s an arena-filling Nashville outsider who wrote a Black Lives Matter anthem and put a gay love story in a music video,” the subheading proclaims. “Now, fresh off a pilgrimage to India, he’s releasing his spiritual and artistic opus, Snipe Hunter. ‘If I’m trying to talk to another young Tyler out there, he needs to know he’s not going to hell for thinking something else different.'”

Most importantly though, a portion of the feature where Childers proclaimed his no longer plays his Double Platinum Certified song “Feathered Indians” due to the potentially offensive nature of the term “Indian” was turned into a viral meme by major social media outlets like Country Central, Country Chord, and Whiskey Riff. This created a “woke” poison pill for the record on the eve of its release, and soured the well of sentiment for many country fans, and for a record that otherwise has no political statements, aside from perhaps some mild and subtle ones.

Meanwhile, in the type of ultra elite circles a publication like GQ caters to, they’re taking this record as something you must support strictly for political purposes. Just like Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter, you’re supposed to praise Snipe Hunter to the hilt as an action of moral preening. The title of the feature is “How Tyler Childers Made the Most Visionary Country Album of the Year,” as if this is possible to declare in July, from an outlet that most ignores country, and by an author who abhors its fans.

But both politically-motivated takes on Snipe Hunter are irrational, just like much of political thought in 2025. Tyler Childers presents some great songs on Snipe Hunter. Rick Rubin presents some misguided decision making. This all results in a mixed bag that no matter your tastes or ideologies, leaves you with a feeling like once again, Tyler Childers leaves himself short of what he’s able to achieve if the stars are aligned, with his 2023 album Rustin’ In The Rain probably the superior project, if for no other reason than it was more consistently emblematic of Tyler Childers, despite the lack of more new, original material.

Some songs of Snipe Hunter remain brilliant works of Appalachia country. But when rock production is brought to them, they’re pushed into the domain of “Americana,” meaning an amalgam of American music influences. As Tyler Childers once said himself, “Americana ain’t no part of nothin,” and unfortunately, that’s what certain moments feel like on Snipe Hunter.

6.8/10

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