2 days ago
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Zach Bryan conquered Golden Gate Park with a lot of help from his friends, and 50,000 fans
There was a moment during Zach Bryan's set at Golden Gate Park that felt almost perfect. As if it was scripted by the music gods who like to dance with Mother Nature.
Bryan was working his way through 'American Nights,' the thumping and stuttering song soaked in the warm nostalgia of summertime fun as the chilling moonscape overtook the day. The fog was sliding in, adding that thin coat of mist to all it touches, as women in hats and boots and jean jackets jumped and swayed in rhythm with the song that's country only by association. All lost in the whims and wonder of this cinematic moment.
With apologies to the locals who've had to endure three straight weekends of massive concerts overtaking their quiet neighborhood, moments like this are why live music at the iconic park are so special. Ringed by trees, surrounded by paths that aren't all paved and close enough to the ocean that it kisses us with its exhalations, the space can feel like a place where nature and music conjoin to remind us why that lore about the music of the spheres is so affecting.
Bryan understood the moment, and the setting on Friday, Aug. 15. 'It's one of the most beautiful cities in the world and we're glad to be here.'
The country singer who wears a lot of denim and draws comparison to Springsteen was different than his previous stop in the Bay Area. That was more than a year ago, his stadium debut in Oakland. He's since released another album. He had a public breakup that became social media discourse. And he no longer seems in joyful awe of the thousands who congregate to sing with him in public. He's more comfortable, more understanding of the growing scale attached to his songs.
But the core of him remains.
What Bryan does so well is capitalize on the universalities of our human experience. Regret. Sadness. Depression. Missing family. Or home. His concerts become communal singalongs because his words feel borrowed and familiar, even if they're minted from his small town Oklahoma background that's far away from our coastal setting.
Strumming a slightly worn acoustic guitar with his blue eyes sunk in his head under a fashionable crew cut, Bryan rarely sang alone. Some fraction of the 50,000 or so people in attendance accompanied him throughout the two-hour setlist that danced through hits like 'I Remember Everything' (so many singers that it felt like mass karaoke), 'Dawns' (one of the greatest country songs of this century) and 'Pink Skies' (overheard during the funeral tune: 'All the feels come out with this song').
Caleb Followill, of opening act Kings of Leon, joined Bryan onstage to sing their new collaboration 'Bowery,' an uplifting bit of melancholy and stinging pride. Another opener, Noeline Hofmann, stepped up wearing some tassel-heavy garb out of Tammy Wynette's closet to sing the Canadian fuel anthem 'Purple Gas,' which she wrote. And Gabriella Rose offered her demure Kacey Musgraves-like voice for the duet 'Madeline.'
But, it was a spontaneous guest who stole the show.
After messing up the start of his smoldering 'Burn, Burn, Burn,' because he said he was distracted while reading a fan's sign, Bryan ended the song by bringing up the fan who crafted the vexing message. It listed three goals, with two checked off: Beat cancer. See Bryan at Red Rocks in Colorado.
The third on the list: Sing 'Heading South' with Bryan.
Coincidence or not, that was the next song. And this young man in a black T-shirt and blue jeans who said he's from South Dakota was given a guitar and a mic and the bizarre opportunity to sing the driving song with Bryan in front of thousands. His nerves cleared, his voice gained some grit and he completed his checklist. Afterward, some dude yelled out: 'Somebody get that guy laid tonight.'
Y'all know how the concert ended. Bryan's 'Revival' has become one of the most dependable and anticipated live aspects in today's popular music scene. Ending every one of his concerts with an extended play of this simple song that plays like a cleansing gospel built from popular culture, rotgut whiskey and the timeless affection for friends and family. It turns static onlookers into dancing revelers, some gesticulating like inspired church congregants.
Despite his sincere songs of personal pain and his stoic aesthetic of the American Everyman in country music, the core of Bryan's growing appeal remains his ongoing reminders that he's not doing this alone. He wants help from his friends. And fans. And we can all relate because, in a society that's increasingly fragmented and isolated, camaraderie and community are the balms that bind. And heal.
