SEATTLE—Suddenly, Eric Church just had to go meet them.

Saturday night at Climate Pledge Arena, Church wandered the crowd more than any other show so far on the Free the Machine tour. He left the stage during “Springsteen,” went down the stairs, and walked between the stage and the rail of the pit.

(This is probably also where he developed a new appreciation for the gymnastics photographer extraordinaire Anthony D’Angio does every night when he squeezes back there—it’s tighter than it looks.)

He shook hands, he posed for pictures, and he presented his Ray-Bans to 14-month old Bailey, who had been one of the most well-behaved members of the pit for most of the evening.

Sometimes you wonder if Church really gets the opportunity to appreciate the incredible range of every single type of people brought together by one of his shows. There is no way that these individuals would ever be together under the same roof anywhere other than if they came together—or gathered again, you might say—to sing along to “Give Me Back My Hometown” and “Stick That In Your Country Song” and “Record Year,” all of which made Saturday’s setlist. Some are singers and know every word. Some are dancers and can’t stop moving. Some do both. Some do neither. All want to be in the building.

Just a couple of front row pit spots away from Bailey was 11-year-old Aria. She’d made the one-hour ferry ride and two-hour drive from her home in Orcas Island with her parents and best friend. The occasion was a big one: Aria had received tickets to the show, her first-ever concert, for her 11^th birthday in September.

Those tickets were farther from the stage, but a crew member passed by and happened to notice the family. He immediately upgraded them to the pit, where Aria had a much better chance of presenting Church with the bracelet she made for him. It read “Country Rocks,” which is not surprising from a girl who said her favorite song was “Creepin’.”

She’s right, it does rock. But near the back of the floor seating, Jacque Knight and her two coworkers were making sure even those who never heard a note still had the full experience. Knight has been fluent in sign language ever since becoming the legal guardian for her 12-year-old sister. When the arena gets a request for a signed performance, they call Jacque, who says she loves the opportunity to be exposed to a wide range of music she wouldn’t otherwise hear.

The question we’re all wondering: it’s easy to understand how someone would sign a play or a speech. But…how do you sign music?

“It’s something that allows me to be really creative,” Knight said. When Church sang that he “walked through glass barefooted,” the signer paired the actual words with a very good representation of walking through glass barefooted, right down to the grimace on her face. When the notes went high, she signed above her head. When the notes went low, she signed below her waist. To watch was to realize that not every performer on Saturday night was on the stage.

If you really stop and think about it, it’s pretty amazing. Each stop on this tour brings together lawyers and bricklayers and white collar and blue collar, and no one really seems to care about anything other than how long you’ve been following the Chief.

And in Seattle, they can correctly say they’ve been doing it for a long time. “Our very first sold out show was here in Seattle,” Church told them. “It was at the Tractor Tavern.”

Now he’s playing to much bigger audiences, and also trying to introduce those crowds to artists with whom he feels a bond. He brought Charles Wesley Godwin on stage late in Saturday’s set, where they teamed up with Joanna Cotten to sing the Haggard/Nelson song “Pancho and Lefty” and “Sinners Like Me,” which was probably part of that Tractor Tavern set.

They’d started talking Saturday afternoon in Church’s dressing room. “This is way under-rehearsed,” he told the crowd before they started. “By which I mean not rehearsed.”

It turned into a great moment. It also left Godwin musing about exactly why Church is able to bring all these different people together under one roof for one night and make them forget everything that makes them different. Godwin stayed on the side of the stage to watch Saturday’s finale, “Through My Ray-Bans,” a song that is a living reminder that the world Church sees on stage every night is very difficult to replicate.

“We were actually talking about that earlier today,” Godwin said. “I think what I’ve seen being out on the road these last couple of weeks with him is that Eric is very comfortable with himself. He’s going to say what he wants to say and he’ll say it how he wants to say it. Look at his latest record. He doesn’t just throw together eight songs and put them out for no reason. It’s an album. He’s two decades into this and he’s still authentic and still doing it his way. People connect with that because they know they’re always getting a real representation of him. Everyone connects with that no matter who they are.”