Childers offers up a list of detailed observations from his time spent in Australia, sung over a mesh of intense percussion and grizzled guitar. He sings of koala bears carrying STDs, kangaroos that revel in fighting each other, and of course, the lengthy flight time (“forever and a day”) required to reach the land down under.

On this jangly, laid-back track, Childers wraps his twangy voice around lyrics that ponder recovery from past experiences of a drinking spree, wondering if friends are “off together somewhere stumblin’ through the streets.”

This full-throttle tracks finds Childers bringing his coal-dusted sound and wise-beyond-his-years lyricism to distilling stories of lessons learned the hard way, whether that’s of inauthentic friendships or the loneliness of hotel rooms. Perhaps the most potent of those lessons comes with the lyric, “Hate is a thing that can poison your veins/ And get in your eyes when you’re sweating onstage.”

This rustic, country-leaning track depicts the ambitious grind of an aspiring musician, and the endurance required to spend years “road-dogging in a stripped-out van,” creating songs and playing grimy bars in hopes of using music to pay the bills.

Childers packs this steady, guitar-fueled jam with advice that works as well in a woodsy area filled with poisonous snakes as it does in the world of personal relationships: “Watch out where you reach…there’s copperheads everywhere.” It’s a fierce jam-band vibe with a robust and timely message.

On this rootsy groove, Childers sings of his desire to travel to India and immerse himself in the beliefs and practices he’s been examining. Referring to himself as a “backwood searcher,” he unspools his path of studying Hindu scripture, learning about Dharma and longing to reach deeper spiritual truths through his journey.

“Poachers” introduces listeners to a character named Trill, who is also mentioned later on the album. The song finds Childers explaining to his friend the importance of having a hunting license, as he imagines what would happen if cops took them in for not having a current license. “They were crossin’ state lines, they were drivin’ a Caddy/ With a cab full of dogs and a trunk full of meat,” he muses on this lilting track.

Fiddle and serene chanting open “Tomcat and a Dandy,” as he relates a story of a young man whose days are filled with traveling and chasing romances, before the song takes a turn toward imagining how mourners will remember him, and hoping he’s properly and joyously celebrated when his passing comes about — or, as he sings, “Raise a toast and toss me roses from the balcony.”

In this longtime fan favorite, Childers spins a tale of a young man desperately attempting to capture the affections of an older woman. “I know I’m younger than most/ But I’m willin’ if you’ve got the time,” he earnestly sings, as the song’s protagonist offers his guitar playing and harmonies as a hopeful enticement, and the song builds into a sensuous, fiddle-laced interval.

Childers has long included this fan-favorite in his shows, and now it is featured on the new project. “Nose on the Grindstone” is classic nuanced Childers songcraft, detailing the story of a son recalling lessons learned from his father’s long hours doing blue collar work, juxtaposed with the son’s addiction struggles. Childers masterfully weaves lyrics that display the tension in the son’s warring desires to make his father proud, but also the relentless pull toward addiction.

One of several hunting-oriented songs on the album, the project’s closing song “Dirty Ought Trill” leads with sizzling, rock-tilted guitar, and again highlights one of the album’s characters, Trill. “Ain’t a man in the holler like Dirty Ought Trill,” Childers sings, celebrating a fierce and feared hunter.

Over a boot-stompin’ groove, Childers pulls no punches, singing of harboring deep distain for someone, though the song never lists a concrete reason for the deep-seated hatred. “To put it plain, I don’t like you, not a thing about the way you is,” he sings caustically over a latticework of guitars and banjo — before noting that if he ever contracted rabies, his enemy would be a prime “bitin’” target.

The album’s swampy-rock opening track blends signifiers of both rural living and upscale successes, becoming an anthem of how it seemingly feels to have made the “big time.” “With albums gold and platinum overflowing to the ceiling/ Eatin’ big time is a feelin’ with the friends that I have made,” he sings over fuzzy guitar licks, boasting of thousand-dollar watches and being bold in his determination to enjoy every ounce of success.