Cody Johnson made it clear during his headlining performance on Day 1 of the Stagecoach Music Festival: this was his microphone, and he was going to use it. On Friday, April 24, he delivered a set that was as much about storytelling as it was about music. From reminiscing about his early days selling $5 CDs at small-town rodeos to reflecting on the diversity of the crowd in the campgrounds, Johnson used his platform to connect with the audience in a deeply personal way.
He also spoke candidly about his faith, sharing how the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ have shaped his life. While some might interpret parts of his monologues as politically charged—especially when he declared, “Don’t let anybody tell you that patriotism is dead”—Johnson himself would likely argue that his remarks were simply a celebration of service, unity, and American values. He highlighted those who have given their lives for the country, including border patrol officers, and called for a stronger sense of national unity.
But beyond the spoken words, Johnson’s most impressive performance came through his powerful vocals. His set was a testament to his talent, silencing any doubts about whether he could live up to the expectations of a headlining Stagecoach act. For many, including myself, there were moments of uncertainty about whether he had what it takes to deliver a memorable performance. However, Johnson proved otherwise with every note.
One of the things that makes Stagecoach unique is its simplicity. Unlike the over-the-top performances often seen at Coachella, which feature dancers, pyrotechnics, and lasers, Stagecoach offers a more stripped-down, authentic experience. Johnson’s set embodied that simplicity, with much of the show consisting of just him and his guitar, accompanied only by his logo on the big screens behind him.
It was the kind of performance one might expect from an afternoon slot in the Bud Light Backyard rather than a headlining set. Yet, this understated approach kept the focus on Johnson and his voice, which shone brightly during songs like “Human,” “The Fall,” and “Til You Can’t.” Despite the minimalistic presentation, Johnson didn’t shy away from delivering surprises that are typically associated with festival headliners.
One such surprise was the appearance of the iconic vocal group Boys II Men, who joined Johnson on stage for a new version of their 1994 hit “On Bended Knee.” The performance was a moment of pure nostalgia, with Johnson declaring, “Ya’ll just witnessed the legends’” — a statement few would disagree with. However, the younger audience members seemed less enthusiastic, perhaps because Boys II Men’s peak came before many of them were born. Some might have preferred a different guest, like Carrie Underwood, who appeared only via a music video for “I’m Gonna Love You.”
But Johnson wasn’t done with surprises. He announced that the next song would be filmed for a music video, then brought out Jay Buchanan, lead singer of Rival Sons, for a collaboration on their new track “Rabbit Gets the Gun.” The performance was a perfect blend of R&B and rock n roll, encapsulating the variety of styles that defined the entire set.
Johnson even defied festival norms by performing an encore, which included “Traveling Soldier” and “Diamond in My Pocket.” As he yelled, “Where the hell are ya’ll going, we’ve got two songs left?” it was unclear whether he was genuinely unaware of the usual no-encore rule or simply playing along for dramatic effect.
What I will remember most from the night, however, was not the encore, the Boys II Men performance, or even the patriotic moment when he led the crowd in singing “God Bless America.” It was the message Johnson shared after talking about his morning experience in the campground, just before playing “Human.”
“What if tomorrow morning we all wake up and treat every person we encounter who is different than us like a human being?” he asked. “Wouldn’t that do something for this country and for the world?”
That final message was one that resonated deeply, leaving the audience with a thought to carry with them long after the music stopped.
