Last night was Lucy Dacus’s first headlining show in Minneapolis, and it quickly sold out when tickets went on sale. Adult Mom and And The Kids opened, and by the time Dacus took the stage, it was clear that all three had brought a sort of seasonal affective disorder antidote for all of us who were bumming about the April snow. They reminded us that emotional, if not literal, warmth is still within reach.
It was Adult Mom’s second time at the Entry, having headlined back in June 2017. One by one, the band members took the stage for a little soundcheck, playing “Linger” by the Cranberries. They began with one of their older songs, “Paws,” which lasted a whole minute and fifteen seconds; the early crowd didn’t seem to notice as they went into “I Think I’m Old Enough” right after. The room was filling throughout their set, and soon went from just a few puddles of nodding heads to something like a small lake.
Vocalist/guitarist Steph Knipe bantered with the audience, pointing out fans from their previous show at the Entry, commenting on Minnesota’s cold weather, and explaining how hard it is to dance on stage while also singing and playing guitar. Knipe played an acoustic song, “The First Day of Spring,” by request of a fan on Twitter earlier in the day. Adult Mom wrapped their set up with a few of their more popular tracks: namely “Survival,” which received a lot of woos from the crowd, and “3 am,” which had fans singing along.
And The Kids were on second. As Hannah Mohan, their vocalist and guitarist, did some pre-set yoga, she was recognized by many as the electric guitarist for Adult Mom. And The Kids were significantly heavier than Adult Mom and shook the room up, in a good way. They dedicated “No Countries” to their synth player, who Mohan said couldn’t be with them because she had been deported back to Canada.
There were a handful of fans in the front enthusiastically hollering along to every “Aheee! / Oh! Oh! Oh!” in “Cats Were Born.” Marching back and forth across the stage, “Wiser” had a more danceable beat and seemed to be the most fun both for the audience and the band, Mohan playing her guitar behind her head near the end. And The Kids brought Jade, the sound tech for Lucy Dacus on this tour, onstage to play guitar with them on their last track, “I Can’t Tell What The Time Is Telling Me.”
Lucy Dacus and her band snuck on stage and began their first track, “Addictions,” before the crowd had even stopped cheering. The crowd around the stage had filled to be more capital A adults than the young artsy kids who had dominated for the opening acts, but they were no less passionate. Dacus didn’t pause to talk with the audience until she introduced her fourth song, “Yours & Mine,” by explaining that “it’s about knowing you’re discontent with your home or your surroundings and being able to have the courage to ask for more.”
Dacus continued with songs from her most recent release, Historian, which came out just barely a month ago. She quickly warmed up to the audience, chatting between songs and joking about her phantom glasses syndrome after taking them off mid-set because they were fogging up from the heat in the room. She took the time to play “Pillar of Truth,” a song for her grandmother, and the audience was so silent during the quiet first half of the seven-minute track, those in the front could hear lead guitarist Jacob Blizard’s pedals clicking. The second half of the song built up and peaked when she yelled “If my throat can’t sing/ Then my soul/ Screams out to you!” with a burst of energy and emotion.
Old favorites from Dacus’s first album, No Burden, had their place towards the end of the set: “Map on The Wall,” “Dream State…” right into “…Familiar Place,” and “I Don’t Wanna Be Funny Anymore.” She closed her set with “Night Shift,” which she prefaced by humbly thanking the crowd for being there and singing along, saying they had just one song left, but doing air quotes around the “one song” part.
The audience sang along a little more proudly after her validation, and there were even a few open giggles at the opening lines, “The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit/ I had a coughing fit.” Dacus came back on stage with Blizard almost as quickly as she left and as an encore they played “Historians,” the hushed and droning finale on Historian. The room was silent and entranced: no one clapped or cheered until after Dacus had stepped back from the microphone, patted her heart, and turned to step offstage, leaving us all standing there with the same pat-your-heart-because-it’s-so-full feeling.
And The Kids