A perfect square stage set, with lights cut, save a lonely spotlight. The reverb of an early Kings of Leon song echoed in the background while Zach Bryan and his Highway Boys settled in, facing every direction.

The opening licks of the Star Spangled Banner on electric guitar by an urban cowboy pierce an anticipatory silence. My eyes were having a hard time telling the truth from where I stood.

Tsunami-esque, there was a longer-than-a-second but shorter-than-a-moment’s pause, followed by an insane wave of crowd response to a mic’d up primal cry that could rival Ric Flair.

Steve Clark, drummer extraordinaire, answered with a percussion lead-in, calling almost 18,000 people into what was sure to be the most jacked-up revival a Wednesday night Milwaukee has ever seen.

So, hoo-ooh-ooh-old on tiii-ight/’cause I’ll be workin’ ohh-ohh-ohh-vertime...

The pipes were all warmed up as we cruised through the next songs, including “Godspeed” from Bryan’s debut LP DeAnn, followed by an unreleased “The Great American Bar Scene,” though aptly changed to “Wisconsin” to warm reception by a crowd highly indoctrinated to the ways of taverns, gambling by way of football game day pools, shakes of the day and pull tabbies, darts, and maybe a fight or two.

All us ‘Sconnies born and raised here, most likely in a bar scene, understand this life well.

Where them bets are tough and bartenders mean/In the great American bar scene…

Bryan made promises for his next studio album to come out this year and treated us to two other songs that haven’t made their way onto physical format yet: “Better Days” and “Sandpaper.” He did some talking. Told a few stories here and there and fucked around with his band in the background, who were mostly just hometown kids, some of whom he’s known a minute. Many touring band members have previous tour experience with them boys of faith and have made performance contributions in the studio.

High tide, it’s been risin’ up/I’ve been gettin’ up…with some boys I used to knowwww/We’re tryin’ to get our pockets up/This year has just…been movin’ fuckin’ slowwww…

On lead guitar, we had Graham Bright, a childhood friend of Zach Bryan, who brought a consistent and commanding presence to the stage through his guitar. Noah Le Gros, infamously known as The Last Great American Cowboy for his role in the “Yellowstone-verse” joined on backing guitar, adding a blend of country charm and internet-style Western influences to the mix as a compliment to the band. The cowboy hat, tattoos, and leg-day skipping physique would’ve made all the gals dressed for summer weather in overt winter drop their panties if they had been wearing any. Which they weren’t. Anyone standing in the women’s line knows it was tits and clits out only. (By the way, I seen what ya bitches done to the toilets outside the club-level lounge and it was, quite literally, some next-level shit.)

But you stuck around when I was down/And I’ll owe you all my days/Them boys of faaaiiith/Them boys of faaaiiith…

Bassist Zephyr Avalon‘s name resembles a word salad RHCP song title, echoing Flea’s energetic stage presence and edging on the diverse funk sound of the late Jaco Pastorius. Greatest Fiddler of All Time Lucas Ruge Jones, hailing from Decorah, Iowa, is renowned for his skillful fiddling, contributing an intriguing blend of Appalachia-Southewestern folk-country fusion through violin, mandolin, and trumpet. Read Connolly followed up on both pedal steel and banjo. Read’s resume includes work with other artists, such as the on-on-the-verge-of-absolutely-exploding Charles Wesley Godwin (who Zach Bryan paired with on “Jamie” a song featured on the Summertime Blues EP and a few other things)

and his own solo projects, as well as a background as an instructor at West Virginia University. JR Carroll, pianist, has also ventured into producing his own solo music. (And while I’m hopeful I captured each man on stage that evening, with simple trolling of song and album credits it’s clear that each member of the band demonstrates remarkable proficiency and versatility across various instruments and vocals.)

Through their incredible musicianship, I gained a newfound appreciation for the song, “Tourniquet.”

The steady keyboard throughout the background coupled with a lyrical double entendre created an extended metaphor that brilliantly ran alongside the accompaniment. Sometimes hearing a song live be like that in which it deepens the understanding and pairs it with an unreplicable experience.

Another standout was “Boys of Faith,” a track that features the talents of Eau Claire, Wisconsin-native Bon Iver, known for his significant contributions to the music industry since the ’00s. Hearing it play out in front of me and singing in unison with tens of thousands of born-again friends elevated the experience to epic proportions on the Likert scale.

Remember all the days we had?/I’d say it ain’t so bad/Keep those heavy eyes soft and kind…

Zach Bryan consistently expressed sincere gratitude for all his boys on stage along with thanking the crowd almost after every single song, which is not an exaggeration. It was a gesture that embodied the essence of Wisconsin and Midwestern niceties, even though it was coming from an Oklahoma kid.

And if voices weren’t a bit hoarse by the time he got to “Burn, Burn, Burn” you weren’t concerting right. We hopped in the back (sans The War and Treaty with whom the song is originally partnered) for “Hey Driver,” showed reverence for “Sweet DeAnn,” and found ourselves all at the beginning of the end for “Quittin’ Time.”

This labor I’ve been doing ain’t got no reason or rhyme/And I can’t hardly wait for it to finally be quittin’ time…

Then, ZB and his boys exited out as righteous as they came in.

Amidst an immediate uproar from the crowd, I reluctantly beelined for the bathroom queue. Stopping by an apparel set, I passed on the $90 hoodie, but then took the $50 tee shirt. And, no judgment—I would’ve dropped disgusting amounts of money on a special tour vinyl of some kind had there been any. Your loss, Mr. Bryan.

After loading up on another two rounds of bevvies for me and my pal, I pushed back to the club-level patio to see the band’s triumphant return, now sporting Milwaukee Bucks jerseys, Lucas complete with a cheesehead. Thus began the benediction with familiar repetitive guitar strums and strains as the boys settled back into their respective places on stage.

Gather round this table, boys/Bring your shame, I’ll lose my voice/Screaming at the gods about the bad we’ve done/Merle said mama tried but the prison still won…

“Revival” beckons to gather, to strip thyself clean while reveling in the mess of our shitty choices and the presence of sketchy people, rooted in the determination to do and be good, despite the dichotomy of relatable struggles and contradictions that may be appreciated by believers and heathens alike.

Your transgressions are mine as well/Anger grows in my bones if you could not tell/But I’ll find comfort in company/Lord forgive us, my boys and me…

True to form, ZB pulled up a newly re-signed AJ Dillon, running back for the Green Bay Packers, onto stage for the sermon. He’s been known to spotlight athletes at other stops, most notably Christian McAffrey from the 49ers who treated fans to a piano solo at Red Rocks some time ago, and Brent Rooker from the Oakland A’s who urgently hit a two-run homer to win a game against the Royals, ensuring he could make it to the ZB show on time.

‘Cause we’re having an all night revival/Someone call the women and someone steal the bibles…

The congregation danced, and there was one final refrain as all the faithful disciples felt their remaining vocal chords stretch and snap. But it was nothing last call beer couldn’t fix.

For the sake of my survival/Baptize me in a bottle of Beam and put Johnny on the vinyl…

As the echoes of the last chord faded out into fog machine smoke, and the crowd began to disperse, the show quickly became a memory. Through the power of music, Zach Bryan and his band had created a church unlike any other, uniting all sinners in a stadium service of his life, love, loss, music, and intelligent creativity.

And inspired by the love and fellowship of really fucking good friends.

I’ve isolated myself a great deal over almost the last decade. Becoming a mom, relocating a few times, the pandemic, struggling with adjustment, feeling hot and cold on the career path I thought I wanted, and not having a relationship with blood family all added up and created a mostly socially solitary life. It was one that, although I’ve taken a large chunk of responsibility for, I’ve also accepted it and been largely okay with it.

And with that, there’s still been this core select group of friends I’ve been able to keep, trust, and know well, who also get me in return.

This girl is one of these such people. Meet my homie, Krystel.

We’ve been friends since the moment we met and this was middle school-era. I’m not going to date either of us, but…it was a long time ago.

This chick is down for anything. From listening to Nine Inch Nails and Limp Bizkit and RHCP and spying on the hot neighbor down the street from my bedroom window in 8th grade to rolling around in a busted-up silver Chevy Lumina to the sketchy part of Milwaukee so we could go to Hot Topic at Southridge Mall in high school, staying out late, rolling down back roads to corn fields in the middle of the night and laying on the car’s hood, staring at the stars,

talking about how it’ll all be when we’re old, getting absolutely lit in college, trolling Lake Geneva, getting naked and swimming out too far in the lake at bar time, choking on water from laughter. We studied our asses off and earned advanced degrees. Added and subtracted men and pounds, birthed children, lost dads and real good dogs, and ran marathons. Seen really great fucking shows. Traveled all over. Many of these experiences were paralleled at different times and zip codes, but it’s always felt like we’ve been together.

And to her, Zach Bryan is just some dude (I didn’t ask her to name three songs, tho!), and the ticket to eat and drink all you want was a bonus,

but when I asked her if she was down to leave her patients and family for only a night five hours away to come to an unholy gathering of dicked up cowboy wannabees with me, it was a simple and emphatic, “YES.”

Like, literally, no second thought, just a reflex response. “YES!”

Krystel understood the assignment, as the kids say today or whatever. She embodies what I think is quintessentially Zach Bryan. Your sis needs you? You go. Beer to be drank? You go. Memories to be made? Yeah, you go. Fights to be had, bodies to be buried, creative truths to be spoken? Let’s go.

This show was more than just a concert; it reflected the path of how I got to be here. How Krystel got to be here. How Zach Bryan got to be here, all his Highway Boys, and the fellow disciples in the crowd. His music magnifies what it’s like to love, lose, and have true friends who care about you. He reminds us, lyrically, of the precious connections that sustain us through life’s twists and turns. It was a night where songs were enmeshed with strong memories, leaving an indelible imprint on both heart and soul, reaffirming the timeless power of music to bridge the gaps between us and all our good homies.

(Especially the ones who hate Ticketmaster but then will pay hundreds of dollars for it on vinyl.)

Zachary Lane Bryan and band, thank YOU for such an iconic awesome evening. No words can really do the experience justice.