Review: Tyler Childers’ new album delivers his gospel in triplicate

As the title tune to Tyler Childers’ boldly imaginative (and expansive) new “Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven?” album unfolds we hear music fortified by strings and brass, get hit with a worldly query (“How can a person who is noble forge an ignoble act?”) and hear an aural quilt of spiritual and earthly reflection fade as the friendly feedback of dogs bark a final chorus of their own.

But wait. The song surfaces again in a stripped-down revision – a give and take of guitar chatter and twang playing over the soulful wail of B3 organ – that pushes the urgency of the Lawrence County, Kentucky, songsmith’s singing to the forefront.

Not enough? Then get a load of a third version – an otherworldly, ambient offshoot that tosses looped grooves, spoken word samples and disembodied vocals over a punctuated shower of ’70s style strings.

Three shades of a single song. Think that’s wild? Well, brace yourself because Childers gives the same treatment to seven other tunes. What results is a gospel service (of sorts) in triplicate – a three disc/vinyl LP set that explores a set of spiritually inclined works through a trio of variations.

The album’s three discs are divided into “Hallelujah,” “Jubilee” and “Joyful Noise.” “Hallelujah,” the most elemental of the pack, offers lean arrangements that allow Childers’ expert touring band, the Food Stamps, to join him in the studio. “Jubilee” pumps up the production, employing strings, brass and, at one point, sitar to upsize the songs. “Joyful Noise” is a record of remixes, a tripped-out scrapbook of beats, blurred melodies and sampled voices (ranging from Andy Griffith to Thomas Merton to Jerry Clower) that purposely strays from the songs’ compositional designs.

Those anticipating a wealth of new Childers music may be initially disappointed. Of the eight core songs, two are traditional, one is a gospel staple and another is a reworking of an older Childers work (“Purgatory,” which is slowed from the bluegrass drive that dominated the original reading on his 2017 album of the same name into a more direct slice of electric, earthy deliverance.)

But that quickly ceases to be an issue. The color and conviction Childers gives to the material that didn’t come from his own pen is as distinct and creative as the songs that did. Take the album-opening “Old Country Church,” a staple covered by generations of country and bluegrass artists (from, among others, Hank Williams to Brent Cobb).

The “Hallelujah” version is a rich, roots-savvy romp topped by suitably churchy B3 fills. The “Jubilee” version ups the jubilation with horns that recall Allen Toussaint’s regal brass arrangements for The Band’s “Rock of Ages” while the rhythmic drive brings to mind vintage Little Feat with a touch of Leon Russell piano flair. Then there is the “Joyful Noise” remix, which opens with bits of homespun conversation before easing into a hip-hop-leaning beat colored by bits of brassy synth that downshifts to where the organ takes on a funereal mood.

The first time through, I listened to “Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven?” one song at a time, taking all three versions in before moving on. On second listening, all three discs were approached in succession. The latter is likely the better way to appreciate the scope of the album. The “Hallelujah” and “Jubilee” discs are companions, the latter a more enhanced and studio-savvy extension of the former. “Joyful Noise” is best listened to on its own. The remixes often stray so far from their blueprint versions as to become unrecognizable. That’s not a criticism, per se. In fact, the often otherworldly ambiance that results, via the redesign of West Virginia DJ, producer and remixer Charlie Brown Superstar (Brett Fuller), welds the music into a fascinating suite. It may be a head-scratcher of a record for some Childers fans. But to my ears, “Joyful Noise” is the most arresting and imaginative sonic Americana adventure since the second disc to Hank III’s lost 2006 epic, “Straight to Hell.”

Of course, Childers has his sights set on higher terrain here. While calling “Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven?” a straight-up gospel venture is misleading, there is no denying the sense of salvation and renewal embedded in these songs, especially the new Childers originals. That’s especially true of the gem of an album-closer, “The Heart You’ve Been Tendin’,” a song of self-fortification that favors personal faith as the most powerful of spiritual paths. “You’ll either go through life like you know what you’re doing,” Childers sings, “or run around aimlessly, scared like a child.”

The initial versions underscore two shades of sleek, discreetly desperate Southern soul before morphing into a remix that fades into an almost tribal variation of a heartbeat.

Indulgent? Perhaps. But Childers consistently backs up any sense of artistic luxury here with roots-driven authority and a comprehensive sense of imagination to make this three-sided devotional a minor epic. So release the hounds and strap yourself in. You’re in for quite the ride with this one.