By Adam Lucas

 

SIOUX FALLS—If you want to get into the top ten of all Eric Church listeners on Spotify, you’re going to have to beat out a three-year-old.

                  

That would be Colt from Wisconsin, who made Friday night’s show at the Denny Sanford PREMIER Center his attended his fifth Eric Church show. Colt and his parents brought the receipts. His Spotify Wrapped plainly lists him as the number-eight listener worldwide of Eric Church.

 

The other seven most likely don’t fall asleep to “Springsteen” every night.

                  

Colt, who was easy to spot in his white t-shirt that read, “Eric Church learned that from this three-year-old,” was the perfect representative on a night with a strong group of young Church fans. 

                  

It began before doors even opened, as a group of a dozen family and friends navigated the early Church Choir entry. A premium Choir membership means early entry for the member plus one other person.

                  

The group only had three memberships, which would have left six of them standing in the biting Sioux Falls wind. No problem. “Let’s sign the kids up,” they said, and the Choir promptly picked up three new members.

                  

That put them inside in plenty of time to grab a prime spot near the front of the pit, where they were joined by a pair of girls whose sign announced it was their “first concert ever,” and by a young fan named Tucker, who was at the show with his dad and looking extremely cool in his American flag scarf and sunglasses. Some people look like they’re in a Halloween costume when they try that look. Tucker, though, pulled it off and looked natural. You can’t teach cool.

                  

And Colt, of course. He was the one dutifully raising his hands in anticipation of Church singing, “Raise your hands/all hail rock and roll.” He’d driven five hours from Wisconsin with his parents and he was going to make the most of it.

                  

Every show takes on its own personality. This one felt like it was for the kids. 

                  

Watching Colt and his parents dance in the pit to “Chattanooga Lucy,” you wondered if they knew that these are some of the very best times. Colt and Tucker and all the rest of them, they can be absolutely anything they want to be. How cool is it that for three hours on Friday night, what they wanted to be was a rock star?

                  

Maybe they fell in love with John Henry Trinko’s keys intro to “Mistress Named Music.” Maybe they want to be the next Driver Williams and get that cool guitar solo on “Creepin’.” Maybe they want to be Eric Church, because everyone does, and get to say the occasional bad word but also get to watch a packed arena sing his songs back to him.

                  

“When I was growing up, music was the main thing,” Church said. “When I look at my kids, it’s too often in the background for them. And this show is all about making music the main thing again.”

                  

There’s a decent chance that this night grabs hold of at least one of the kids in attendance the way it grabbed Church and the other two dozen people on stage. Because this felt like the kind of night that lasts. Church played “Jack Daniels” for just the third time in the last three years, and “Lucy” was making just her third appearance this tour.

                  

“I’m not sure if I’m asking for forgiveness, or if I’m apologizing,” he said.

                  

No need for apologies. Along with opener Ella Langley, he created a show that was unquestionably unique to South Dakota; he hasn’t played a concert with both “Jack Daniels” and “Lucy” in five years.

                  

It enthralled the adults and mostly captivated the kids. Even Church had to chuckle, though, when he spotted Colt for the first time. It happened during “Creepin’,” and the three-year-old was asleep in the corner of the pit. Chief is a parent. He understands.

                  

It wasn’t long, though, before Colt was pumping his fist beside his dad and singing, “Cold, cold beer.” Kids are resilient. Especially when it’s time to pledge allegiance to the Hag. 

                  

“See, now it’s starting to feel like a Friday night,” Church said after “Hell of a View.” He added “Born to Run” to the end of “Springsteen,” and he couldn’t resist an acoustic medley of “Two Pink Lines,” “Love Your Love the Most,” “Record Year” and “These Boots.”

                  

Those songs weren’t on the set list, but felt essential. He was feeling the music, feeling the energy of the crowd, and—yes—maybe feeling a little bit like a kid again.

                  

During “Springsteen,” he’d wrapped himself in a USA Olympic flag offered by the audience—don’t ever say the Sioux Falls crowd isn’t topical—and roamed the stage. His face completely lit up when he spotted Colt, now wide awake and pumping his fist.

                  

So Church climbed down from the stage and high-fived one of the world’s foremost Spotify listeners of his music. They stood next to each other in the pit, belting out the words in unison, hands clasped together, both beaming.

                  

One was a kid still figuring out where music could take him. The other providing the perfect map on how to get there.