David Allan Coe has always been country music’s most chaotic outlier. He’s the guy who wrote "You Never Even Called Me by My Name," the supposed perfect country and western song, but he’s also the guy who spent a huge chunk of his life behind bars. People call him the Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy. Some call him a genius. Others, rightfully, look at his "Underground" albums from the late 1970s and early 1980s and see something much darker. Specifically, when people search for "nigger fucker david allan coe," they are usually looking for the origins of one of the most inflammatory, offensive tracks ever pressed to vinyl.
It’s a nasty piece of history.
To understand why a guy like Coe would record something so overtly racist, you have to look at the weird, gritty independent record scene of the 1970s. Coe wasn't just playing the Grand Ole Opry; he was selling mail-order records through the back of Easyriders magazine. These weren't for the radio. They were for the bikers, the outlaws, and the people who wanted to hear the most offensive things imaginable. The song in question, often referred to by its crude title, isn't just a footnote; it’s a massive stain on his legacy that he spent decades trying to explain away.
The Context of the Underground Albums
In 1978, Coe released Nothing Sacred. It was followed by Underground Album in 1982. These weren't Columbia Records releases, though he was signed to them at the time. No, these were independent, dirty, and meant to be "X-rated." If you’ve ever actually listened to them—which, honestly, is a rough experience—you’ll find songs about every taboo subject under the sun. Sex, drugs, and, most prominently, raw racism.
The song "Nigger Fucker" is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a vitriolic, acoustic track where Coe adopts a persona to complain about a woman leaving him for a Black man. It’s not "satire" in any way that makes it palatable. It’s just ugly. Coe later claimed he wasn't a racist and pointed to his friendships with Black musicians, but when you put words like that on a record and sell it for profit, the label sticks. Hard.
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Why Did He Do It?
Honestly, Coe has given a dozen different answers over the years. Sometimes he says it was just a joke for his biker friends. Other times, he claims he was trying to be "honest" about the way people talked in the South or in prison. He spent a significant portion of his youth in reform schools and correctional facilities like Ohio Penitentiary. That environment breeds a certain kind of hardness, sure, but it doesn't excuse the blatant bigotry found in his lyrics.
You’ve got to remember that the 70s were a weird time for "outlaw" culture. There was this push to be as transgressive as possible. While Waylon and Willie were "outlaws" because they wanted to use their own producers, Coe took the term literally. He wanted to be the guy who said the things you weren't allowed to say. The problem is, there’s a line between being a rebel and just being a hateful provocateur.
The Fallout and the "Apology"
For a long time, Coe’s mainstream success shielded him from the full weight of these records. Most suburban fans buying his "Greatest Hits" had no idea the Underground albums even existed. But as the internet grew, those tracks leaked. Suddenly, the guy who wrote hits for Tanya Tucker and Johnny Paycheck was being confronted with his own voice singing racial slurs.
He’s tried to distance himself. In various interviews, he’s mentioned that his drummer for years was Black (Jimmy Brown) and that he had a deep respect for the blues. He even told the New York Times years ago that anyone who thought he was a racist didn't know him. But for most, the music is the evidence. You don't record a song with that title by accident. You don't distribute it via mail order for years unless you're okay with the message it sends.
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The Legacy of a Complicated Man
David Allan Coe is now an old man, and his touring days are mostly behind him. But the conversation around his "X-rated" material hasn't died down. It’s become a case study in "separate the art from the artist." Can you enjoy "The Ride" while knowing the same man sang those hateful Underground tracks?
Some fans say yes. They argue that he was playing a character, much like a comedian says offensive things on stage. But music hits differently. It’s permanent. It’s rhythmic. And when it’s used to punch down at a marginalized group, it loses its "artistic" defense pretty quickly.
What Most People Get Wrong
People often think these songs were some "lost tapes" or accidental recordings. They weren't. Coe was proud of them at the time. He marketed them. He made money off them. He saw himself as the ultimate free speech warrior, even if that "speech" was just recycled bathroom-stall bigotry.
Another misconception is that he was dropped from his label immediately. He wasn't. Columbia kept him for years because he was a cash cow. It wasn't until much later, when the cultural climate shifted and the "underground" became public, that the real backlash started.
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How to Approach Coe’s Catalog Today
If you're a fan of country music history, you can't ignore David Allan Coe. He’s too influential. But you also can't sanitize him. You have to acknowledge that he represents both the best and the absolute worst of the "outlaw" movement.
- Acknowledge the Source: Understand that the X-rated albums were a specific, intentional project designed to shock. They weren't mainstream country.
- Verify the Lyrics: Don't rely on hearsay. If you look at the transcripts of those songs, the level of vitriol is undeniable. It’s not just "edgy"; it’s foundational racism.
- Contextualize the Era: The 1970s biker culture that Coe catered to was often rife with white supremacist imagery (like the Confederate flag, which Coe used heavily). This wasn't happening in a vacuum.
- Listen Critically: If you choose to listen to his mainstream hits, do so with the knowledge of who the creator is. E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) in music journalism means looking at the whole person, not just the radio edits.
David Allan Coe’s career is a warning. It’s a warning about what happens when "authenticity" is used as a shield for hate. It’s a warning about how the music industry will tolerate almost anything if it sells. And mostly, it’s a reminder that once you put something that ugly out into the world, you never really get to take it back.
The best way to handle this part of music history is to look at it directly. Don't hide the facts, don't sugarcoat the lyrics, and don't pretend it was something it wasn't. It was a man making a choice to profit off of racial tension and hatred, and that is how he will be remembered by many, regardless of how many "perfect" country songs he wrote.