by Jodeane Brownlee, faculty
OMAHA, Neb. — I’ve seen Eric Church a lot over the years, and one thing he always brings up is how the Omaha and Council Bluffs crowd showed up for him early. Long before arena tours, these were the rooms that were full. He says he hasn’t forgotten that, and it still shows in how he treats this market. It doesn’t feel like a line. It feels like a relationship he’s willing to maintain.
This tour supports Evangeline vs. the Machine, an album that fits his pattern of not repeating himself. The record leans into tension, change, and perspective, and those themes translated well live. In Omaha, the set moved between new material and the artists who shaped him, which gave the night a clear through line instead of a greatest hits checklist.
Church also seemed more open than I’ve seen him in the past. He smiled more, took off the sunglasses and looked comfortable in the space. It felt like an artist who knows what he wants the show to be and doesn’t need to prove it every second. That confidence played well in an arena. It also made the quieter moments land harder.
Midway through, he shifted away from the big production and leaned into the roots of the genre. The nods to legends like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, and Dolly Parton didn’t feel like filler. It felt like a reminder of what he’s building from. When an artist does that well, it adds context to the newer songs and gives the audience something to hold onto besides volume and lights.
The most emotional moment came during a tribute to Toby Keith, two years to the day since his passing. Church performed “Don’t Let the Old Man In,” and it hit with the kind of weight you don’t plan for. I remembered hearing Toby sing it in December 2023 and having the same reaction then. Some songs follow you. They land differently depending on where you are in life and what you’ve lived since the last time you heard them.
That moment’s a big part of why this show surprised me. I walked in expecting a good show, but I left feeling more connected to the material than I expected. It wasn’t just entertaining. It felt personal in a way that’s hard to manufacture.
I also found myself thinking about how long Church’s music has been in my life. I connected with The Outsiders during a stretch when things felt like they were moving in the right direction, both at home and at work. Before that, Sinners Like Me pulled me back toward country music at a time when I needed something grounded. Those albums are tied to specific seasons for me, and hearing him live again made that timeline feel obvious.
If there’s a takeaway here, it’s not that music just saves you or fixes you. It’s that music marks time. It holds memories, it changes meaning, and it keeps showing up in new ways as you get older. If you stay with an artist long enough, you’re not just watching them evolve. You evolve, too.
