It honestly feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to see The Lumineers live. Around the time of their first album release, I—with the combined power of a $5 box TV from the Habitat Restore, a Roku box I saved up for myself, and my very own Pandora account—began to slowly succumb to stomp and holler fever. I’m sure I heard songs like “Ho Hey” and “Stubborn Love” on the radio at some point, but what sticks out the most to me in my memory is how eagerly I’d wait for them to appear again in my Pandora queue, wedged between Of Monsters And Men and Mumford & Sons. 

By the time Cleopatra had come out, before I could even comprehend the idea of seeing them on a stage, I think I could already have been called a massive fan. After Cleopatra, I spent a lot of time in my room, listening to them on my own. I drove my family crazy with my incessant playing of “Ophelia” on our dastardly out-of-tune piano; tracks like “Patience” were more preferred, so I spent much of my time sitting on our rickety piano bench, searching for any free sheet music PDFs I could locate online. 

That’s why I was so beyond excited that, about three-fourths of the way through my sophomore year of high school, I was going to see them in concert. My then-best friend and I somehow got our moms to coordinate on driving us from East River South Dakota to Minneapolis. We made our own T-shirts—mine, a sage green men’s crewneck with a hand-drawn submarine that simply said “Submarine” on it, as it was my favorite song at the time. Unfortunately, this concert was on March 13th, 2020, the day after my school and several others shut down at the beginning of the pandemic. I climbed into my mom’s car the day they paused in-person school and was met with the terrible news: the concert was cancelled.

One major perk of purchasing a ticket was that I got a free CD of their third album, III. I spent the next two and half years with that album living in my CD slot. During the summers, when storms are somewhat frequent in South Dakota, I’d get off work at Dairy Queen close to (if not after) midnight. There was usually a bit of crouching down and awkwardly walk-sprinting to my car in the parking lot—a vain attempt to keep the rain from making the ice cream on my clothes any stickier than they already were. I’d slam the car door shut behind me and try to wipe the water away from my forehead and eyes, start up my dinky teal 2007 Camry, and immediately skip along the III tracklist till I’d find the song I was looking for. My drive home was always longer on those nights, and always accompanied by “Salt and the Sea” on repeat. 

All this is to say, I (pardon my language) fucking love The Lumineers. I’ve loved them over half my life. I wasn’t able to see them on tour for their fourth album release, Brightside, and, in all honesty, I wasn’t expecting to be able to see them on tour for their newest album, Automatic. I’d requested coverage, but a week to the concert, we hadn’t heard back. Our wonderful music director here at Radio UTD (shoutout Muna Ali; we love Muna Ali in this household) reached out one last time at my behest, and suddenly, nearly exactly 24 hours before doors were to open, I had tickets. Real, actual tickets. 

This has been a lot of preamble to tell you that I finally did it: I saw The Lumineers in concert. And, honestly, it was everything I spent years dreaming of. Our contact Julie (shoutout Julie, too—thank you, Julie) wasn’t able to get me a press pass, but she was able to secure two tickets. Pit tickets. My boyfriend and I arrived at the concert early enough to be one of the first groups in, and we magically ended up right up next to the barricade at the very front of the stage. Like, what? Hi. No. Sorry. What? Dreams, I have discovered, do come true. Even if they’re to be captured on a Samsung instead of a Canon (apologies for the quality in advance, reader).

The opener, Chance Peña, was largely new to me. I’m someone who, if I don’t know an opener’s music very well, I like to go in blind. I knew “i am not who i was” from him, and my little sister had recommended I listen to “In My Room,” but everything else was a surprise. His voice carries a lot more weight to it in person. Hearing him live was a wholly different experience than listening to him in-studio. Since last night, I’ve gone back and revisited his tracks—which do not disappoint—and can say that I was right to be a little bit shocked by the full, rich, gravelly sound he brought onstage last night. His timbre felt different live than in recording, especially the tracks I knew beforehand. While the stylistic vowel choices combined with the sheer power of his voice could, at times, make it a bit difficult to understand these lyrics I was hearing for the first time, I think I and everyone else crowded alongside the barricade around me can agree: Chance Peña deserved to sing his goddamn heart out in front of that arena last night. 

During what had to have been one of the cleanest equipment/stage transitions I’ve ever witnessed, I chatted with the barricade security guard about the concert. She was just as excited as I was. I think everyone in Dickies Arena last night was probably in the exact same boat as we were—long-time fans of the band. I’d followed The Lumineers closely enough that I recognized one of their current touring bandmates, Reverend Derek Brown, hustling between the barricade and the stage, and every annoying little nine-year-old fangirl part of me was already completely awestruck.

The band came onstage with “Same Old Song,” the opening track off their most-recent release. I don’t know why I was ever worried that I’d missed out on my opportunity to hear some of my favorites in person, because they immediately launched into “Flowers In Your Hair,” a Lumineers classic. The stage at Dickies was raised up higher than usual that night, according to the security guard, and we quickly saw why. Throughout the show, there was a drumset and piano that would rise out of the floor, onto the stage. (It was very Hannah Montana: The Movie-coded; big fan.) And, while high, the stage itself was also the longest I’d ever seen in person, with a walkway that extended out past the apron, opening up to a sort of mini-stage at the end. 

Band co-founders Wesley Schultz, clad in a Billy Joel shirt and blindingly white trousers, and Jeremiah Fraites, sporting his somewhat iconic suspenders and hat duo, made excellent use of this space. The rest of the band, at times, would stay on the main stage while Schultz and Fraites made their way out directly in front of the crowd, performing track after track. The rest of the band would join them other times, most notably violinist/pianist Lauren Jacobson and instrumental all-rounder (the band is full of all-rounders, honestly) Stelth Ulvang. Jacobson would approach the lip slowly with her violin tucked between her shoulder and chin, moving purposefully down the strip between stages, while Ulvang was definitely more energetic with his stage transitions. 

It should actually be noted that, in my opinion, Stelth Ulvang might be the most energetic performer I’ve ever seen in my life. Like, I think he has more energy than primetime David Lee Roth. He’d come onto stage, and the first thing my boyfriend leaned and whispered was, “Why are his dogs out?” I’d shrugged and said, “Bro’s just gotta feel the music.” Bro was feeling the music, for sure. I don’t think there’s enough money in the world you could pay me to be half as energetic as he was. There were headstands, there were cartwheels and summersaults, there were kicks and jumps and passionate sliding. I was beyond simply impressed. I was astounded. So was my boyfriend. That man has earned his rights to go dogs-out onstage.

The band as a whole, including guitarist/mandolinist Brandon Miller and guitarist/bassist Byron Isaacs, were like a well-oiled machine. It makes sense, with Fort Worth being their penultimate tour stop, that they’d have their act absolutely down pat, but I cannot convey to you how impressed I was with the show they put on. This group, the majority of whom have been playing together since at least 2016-2018, are more than just seasoned musicians. They’re talented performers, and it was truly delightful to watch them bring to life these tracks I’ve spent over a decade loving. 

Some highlights, I have to say, include the guests brought onstage. I had heard that Chance Peña would be coming on for “Charlie Boy” (that one used to make me cry when I was, like, thirteen for some reason), and he really did not disappoint. During his opening, Peña had shared that over a decade ago, he himself had been in the audience of a Lumineers concert. Looking in, even through a stranger’s lens, it was impossible not to be happy for him—to see someone standing in front of a massive stadium not too far from their home town, singing songs they must have loved since their own childhood with the band that gave those songs to them. 

What was equally as satisfying was the band bringing on Fort Worthian Abraham Alexander for my number one favorite thunderstorm song, “Salt and the Sea.” Alexander brought an entirely new element to the song, particularly with some blues-infused guitar soloing brought in at the end. He’s toured with The Lumineers in the past, but he’s definitely on my radar now. Yet another artist whose work I can’t wait to check out. Also, shoutout to the Reverend for somehow consistently drawing my attention to him while he held nothing more than a small shaker.

The Reverend and the rest of the band were each given their opportunity to shine after the show, with each member taking on a verse of “Big Parade,” yet another classic from the band’s debut album. Watching the band get loose and have fun—featuring some impressive posing part-way through—was exactly what we needed, before they proceeded to emotionally suckerpunch us, oh, I don’t know, about fifty-seven times.

I never expected to cry at a Lumineers concert, but here we are. I’ve seen quite a few concerts in my time, which each featured plenty of songs I’ve cried to in the privacy of my own car/room, but ugly crying in front of the barricade was a new one for me. Yet another favorite from III, “Leader of the Landslide” is a track that, for better or for worse, has always spoken to me. I’d expected to have fun shouting out lyrics with the rest of the crowd—“You told me a lie / Fuck you for that,” so on and so forth—but taking off my glasses to wipe away tears and completely smudge my makeup was something I hadn’t anticipated.

I think this, more so than anything else I could say about the concert, really speaks to how (there are no better words I could use to describe it) wonderful their performance was. I’m a crier on my own time, not at concerts. Especially in the very front row, when the band have all returned to the main stage and are ten or so feet from where I’m standing. I managed to straighten myself out during an interspersing of The Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” which was the perfect song to bring in there, but immediately lost it again after “Leader of the Landslide” resumed. I’d recovered (everything but my dignity) by the song’s end, and then I sort of just stood there, shocked. A little dumbfounded. All the stomp and holler haters out there would probably laugh to hear it, but yes. I cried at The Lumineers concert. They are just that good.

I was surprised I didn’t cry at the next song. Earlier this year, lead singer Wesley Schultz lost his little brother, Sam, while on tour. I can’t imagine the heartbreak his family has gone through. I was aware before the show that they’ve dedicated a song to Sam each night, but I didn’t expect to hear the best Billy Joel cover I’ve ever heard in my life. They brought on saxophonist Jeff Dazey for their rendition of “New York State of Mind.” I’d heard covers of Wesleys’ in the past, from Talking Heads to Sheryl Crow, but I’d never heard his voice fit another artist’s song quite so well. Schultz’s warm, somewhat raspy/gritty tone was perfect for Billy Joel. It was heartwrenching, and it was melancholic, and it was beautiful. Schultz spoke about how he thinks his brother was with us that night. I’d like to say that, especially with a performance like that, his little brother was with us, and that he must have been very, very proud of him. It felt like a gut-punch after the emotional rollercoaster that was “Leader of the Landslide,” but it was a privilege to have seen it live.

The show closed out with two tracks even the most casual Lumineers listener would know: “Cleopatra,” closely followed by “Stubborn Love.” I’m so glad I didn’t have a guitar as a child, because I’d have been twice as annoying with playing “Cleopatra” as I was with playing “Ophelia” on the piano. (“Cleopatra” isn’t as fun on the piano.) The band made their way towards the extended stage once again, a not-so-tidy line of seven along the lip of the stage. With so many artists in a group, it’s impossible to not interact with every portion of your audience at one time. Even while we were stuck staring mostly at the bands’ backs, it was impossible not to feel like a part of the whole. These were songs that had been with a majority of the audience since our childhoods. This is a band so, so many audience goers grew up with. So, ending on these tracks really felt like a coming together for the crowd, and I was grateful to have been right in the thick of it. 

I also appreciated that, after a three-hour-long show, the band didn’t play around with any encore nonsense. “It’s like peekaboo for adults,” so on and so forth. Schultz said they had a couple more for us after Billy Joel, and he didn’t lie. After “Stubborn Love,” the band ran back off stage, tossing a few bits and bobs out to the audience. I could have sworn I locked eyes with Brandon Miller (they call me Mr. Delusional, I’m sorry), who tossed a setlist right to where I was standing, but the chippy girl to my right managed to snatch it. Miller crumpled up and tossed another setlist to our crowded corner, which I again missed. 

It was picked up by a girl my boyfriend and I had chatted with intermittently throughout the show, a marine biologist visiting home from Hawaii named Evelyn. I asked if I could take a picture of the setlist, and she straight-up offered it to me. After repeatedly asking if she was absolutely sure (“I don’t need a pick and a setlist,” she’d insisted), I accepted, although not until I took a couple photos for her on her phone and digicam. She even tried to offer me one of the two picks she ended up with, but we agreed it would be best given to her sister, who had to leave after the opener because she wasn’t feeling well. 

I can say this with all honesty: The Lumineers were one of the best bands I have ever seen live. Between their outstanding musicianship and performance capabilities, this was the show of a lifetime. I don’t know how I could have had a better time at this concert. That’s also due in large part to the people who were able to make that night happen. Thanks again to Julie and Muna for getting me in; thanks to the security guard (whose name I didn’t catch, unfortunately) for being so sweet and sociable; and, again, massive thank you to Evelyn for the setlist. It’s the perfect memento to a night I know for certain I will never, ever forget. Biggest thank you goes, of course, to The Lumineers for putting on what might just be my favorite concert to-date.

Fifteen-year-old me would be so insanely jealous. And that’s a great thing.