By Adam Lucas

 

LITTLE ROCK—Eric Church had a lot to share with the crowd in Arkansas. If he could just make it to the stage.

                  

The Free the Machine tour reconvened at Simmons Bank Arena on Thursday, and Church was ready to make his usual grand entrance to “Hands of Time.” Well, he was ready. The door to the stage wasn’t quite as ready.

                  

If you’ve never seen about a dozen people immediately sprint around backstage, then just wait until the next time Church tries to go through the rear stage door and it doesn’t open. Perhaps it was an homage to stage manager Sambo Coats, who is out this weekend with an injury. 

                  

“I was a little late,” Church told the crowd later in the show, “because the doors were locked. I was ready to kick ass on Hands of Time. But I learned an important lesson about those hands: they don’t open doors. I thought I was going to have to come around the side.”

                  

Don’t ever say Chief hasn’t overcome adversity on this tour. A couple of weeks ago, he took an unscheduled nap in the Omaha arena seats during a midnight pre-show walk around the arena and was AWOL for part of the night. Tonight he couldn’t get through the stage door. The way things are going, better check that bus tire pressure on the way to Kansas City.

                  

The door jam was just the first in a night with multiple surprises. With some free time on Thursday afternoon, the band had assembled and come up with a few ideas. That led to a terrific moment when trombonist Roy Agee suddenly appeared from the rear of the stage during “Cold One,” shocking all but a couple of the people on stage with his sudden appearance. That solo hasn’t been part of that song during this tour, but on Thursday it was. And if the people on stage looked surprised to suddenly see Agee waltzing up the middle of the stage, it’s because, well:

                  

“It’s because they were really fucking surprised,” Agee said with a wide grin.

                  

They were probably equally surprised that Church spontaneously decided to share a story about the time he taught his older son to throw a punch. It concluded with his wife walking into the room while Church was showing the finer points of pugilism to his then 10-year-old son, who was wearing a chest protector. 

                  

“Now that,” Church said, “was fear.”

                  

Even he was a little surprised that he’d decided to share that particular story. “It’s like a couch session up here,” he said.

                  

But there was one part of the evening that went decidedly according to plan. Vocalist Joanna Cotten was raised less than 90 minutes away in Forrest City, Arkansas. She walked on stage wearing a Razorback football jersey, and in “Hell of a View,” Church changed the words to, “Let’s paint it Razorback red tonight.”

 

“I tried to say something about you being from Arkansas,” he said to her on stage with a shrug.

 

“But you don’t know how to call the hogs,” Cotten replied. The entire conversation was off-microphone, but it was as if the crowd just knew what was required. Some rumblings of calling the hogs began, and Church just looked at Cotton and shrugged.

 

“Aw hell,” he said, “go ahead and do what y’all do.”

 

Which is how the big-time rock star had to slide over while the Arkansas girl stepped to center stage and the arena rocked while she called the hogs. Then, and only then, could the show proceed with “Springsteen,” “Drink In My Hand,” and the rest of the evening.

                  

Beginning with “Rocket’s White Lincoln,” when she informed the crowd, “We going out tonight/because it’s hometown night,” Cotten’s roots were an important part of the show. “It’s homecoming for JoJo!” Church told the crowd midway through the set.

                  

And he had even bigger plans for her. After a searing version of “Some Of It,” he gave her a very subtle nod. She brought her microphone to the front of the stage and stood beside Church, and he proceeded to showcase her for the hometown folks. First was “Like Jesus Does.” As she stretched out one verse of the “liiiiiiiiiiike,” Church simply strolled to the side of the stage and watched Cotten on the video board, shaking his head in amazement.

                  

As usual, they ended that song by harmonizing the final “like,” stretching it out as far as each of them can. When Church won the contest—“He’s the boss,” Cotten has said before about whether she might be tanking—he even seemed a little regretful. “I should’ve let you win,” he said. “At least in my hometown!” she answered.

                  

But when he tried to start another “Like,” she wasn’t having it. Competitors don’t want any gimmes, and Cotten is definitely a competitor, which is why she’s such a good match for Church. On the nights he needs a little spark on stage, she pushes him. And he does the same for her, which is why anytime they’re together—as they were when he added “Mixed Drinks About Feelings” to the end of the set list—is dynamic.

                  

Church must have been inspired, too, because he scratched the usual show closer. “I’m not sure the two of us have ever done this by ourselves,” he said before they began, and then paused for just a second. “Shit, that’s a lot of pressure.” 

                  

Not surprisingly, though, they seemed to thrive on the stress, and nailed a very rare duo version of “Holdin’ My Own” to end the night.

                  

Cotten eventually walked off stage waving a red Razorback football jersey. And Church, well, he exited the stage much more easily than he entered it.