The Anthem
Washington, DC
September 7, 2025
“It seems so easy to do the right thing… for some reason it’s never delivered.”
Sierra Ferrell @ The Anthem, Washington, DC - Sunday, September 7, 2025
I woke up early on a Sunday to catch a southbound train to DC. The day of my long-awaited Sierra Ferrell show had arrived, and I decided to make a day out of it, with plans of visiting a lifelong friend and bringing her along to the Wharf for the show. Sitting on the Amtrak train, I scrolled through repeated clips of Sierra’s famed cover of John Anderson’s “Years,” which has become a recent meme on SierraTok.
Anyone on the y’allternative side of the algorithm knows exactly what I am talking about.
After a day of catching up, enjoying a beautiful day in the city, and a quick dinner next door to the venue, I checked in with the box office to kindly ask if they could print my ticket stubs, carefully sliding my phone through the glass window to the attendant. For all the naysayers who have taken the time to “school” me via my TikTok that the venue box office “never” distributes printed tickets to digital ticket holders.
Lesson 1: It never hurts to ask nicely.
After grabbing the stubs, we made our way to the entrance just after 6:30PM. The entry line was a sea of flower crowns, gingham, and cowboy boots. The crowd skewed young - primarily bright-eyed 20-somethings with boyfriends and husbands dragged in tow. We moved through security quickly and made our way straight to the merch line. $120 later, we shuffled upstairs to the general admission box area to claim some modest territory. Being that the majority of the venue was set for GA standing and I am 5 '4’’ on a good day, I chose an unobstructed from-above view over proximity to the stage.
NIKKI LANE
Nikki Lane was the opener for the evening’s festivities. As a friend of Sierra’s and an established outlaw country artist, they made the perfect duo for the show. Nikki was set to take the stage at 8PM. Around the same time, a group of medium-latecomers made their way to my section of the GA box viewing area. Clearly intoxicated and cackling, at first I found the excitement for the show endearing. Unfortunately I didn’t realize what was to come.
Nikki started on time; she and her ensemble made their way onstage and kicked off the set with “Jackpot,” a quippy, high-energy track. And that’s all I can really say about my experience watching this set, because as if on cue, the drunk group around me decided to scream-talk through the entire song. Trying my best to ignore the oral dissertation on how hard it is to find parking in DC, I felt a pit in my stomach. Is this how the entire show is going to be? Because if so…this is going to be a problem. By two tracks in, it was as if those around me were in competition with Nikki for the title of main character of the moment, doing their best to speak at volume superseding the sound coming from the stage.
At one point during the set, one of the members of the group stepped away and returned with a cheeseburger. It was at this exact time that Nikki spoke to the crowd, offering the background of the next song before leading her band into the track. She softly explained the premise of “Woodruff City Limit,” written as a tribute to her father, who passed away in 2024, and the complicated feelings around his loss.
“Oh my GOD this song is so BORING, she needs to play something more upbeat I literally cannot,”
Hamburger Helper volunteered to her friends at a volume audible from space.
Besides the fact that this person didn’t even bother swallowing her cud before speaking, the cruelty of the proclamation at such a high decibel level struck a nerve in me in the worst possible fashion. How insensitive can you be? Not just to Nikki, but especially to those around you trying to take in a vulnerable, raw track written for the death of the artist’s loved one? I felt the heat rise to my face. There was nothing I could say to this beef Hoover that wouldn’t result in me being removed from the venue and embarrassing the hell out of my friend.
Let me reiterate what we all were supposed to learn in middle school: you are entitled to your opinion. I do not take issue with someone having a differing perspective from me when it comes to music, or most other topics.
So why did I have such a visceral reaction?
Your favorite artist, at one point in their career, was an opener for someone else. You do not know who around you is fully tuned in, fully entranced with the artist on stage, falling in love with something new. As a fellow audience member, it will not kill you to hold onto your opinions and wait to run your mouth until after the set has finished. By the way, if someone is actively pouring their heart out to the crowd onstage, I guarantee nobody around you gives a shit about your $20 meat patty. Save it for the Uber home, Debra.
Lesson 2: Respect the openers, and respect those around you who may be discovering their new favorite artist. It costs nothing to be kind.
Nikki’s set concluded, the lights rose, and the crowd around me dispersed for bathroom breaks and another visit to the watering hole. After exchanging a few heated words with (at) my friend about the situation, I took the opportunity to shake it off, and before I knew it, the lights dimmed for Sierra’s arrival. After a rough start during the opener, opening the set with “I Could Drive You Crazy” felt like the ironic cherry atop of my shit-sundae of an attitude. Thankfully, with the sound of Sierra’s Appalachian rasp hitting the rafters, the group adjacent to me remained subdued, and I recalibrated my mood.
Watching Sierra perform is embracing the contrast of early Americana nostalgia, with the modern messaging of sharing love with your neighbors, learning from history, and tuning in to the energy of Mother Earth. Between songs, Sierra pauses to touch on these themes, continually reminding us that we are doomed to repeat history if we do not learn the lessons of our past, and asking us to remember how magical we are as human beings. At one point in the set, Sierra paused, calling to the audience: “On the count of 3, say “I love you.” One, two, three…,” and when the moment came on 3, the crowd obliged.
Lesson 3: Look for the light in moments of chaos.
Keeping momentum high through the set, Sierra and the boys broke into “Dusty Foot,” a new song not yet released to streaming platforms. THIS is the type of high-energy folk tune that you attend a Sierra show to see. How can you not dance to the sound of someone tearing into a bluegrass fiddle? The more time went on, the more relaxed I felt - I had almost forgotten the group next to me and the drama of Act I.
Following the new track, Sierra brought the set back to familiar favorites, with her aforementioned internet-famed cover of “Years” by John Anderson, and “American Dreaming.” Nikki returned to the stage for a duet - a cover of “(A) Lesson in Leavin’” by country songstress Jo Dee Messina. Thankfully, I was able to hear clearly the beautifully matched harmonies without any audible competition.
The set came to a close with “In Dreams” - one of her most popular, well-known tracks, and one of my favorite songs of her catalog. With that finisher, I walked out of the venue feeling better than when the show had started. Despite a nerve-wracking start to the evening, and as cliche as it may sound - I truly believe that Sierra’s words were the boost I needed to get out of my own head about the things around me that I can’t control.
On the train back to Baltimore early the next morning, I took a seat on the aisle in the quiet cabin. Through my headphones, I heard a commotion from the front of the car - the Amtrak ticket-taker scolded a group for talking too much in the cabin. Aptly named, it is common sense and also a rule that if you are seated in the quiet cabin, there is absolutely no conversation or audible activity taking place in that car. It took three rounds of reprimanding from the attendant to get the group to pipe down. If I hadn’t seen them walk by, I would have drawn the conclusion that it was the same group from the show the night before. It was an ironic, stark reminder that it’s so easy to encounter entitlement no matter the venue of your experience. I turned up my playlist and tuned out the chaos.
Lesson 4: Amtrak does not sell cheeseburgers in the Cafe Car.
But really, whether it’s a train ride or a show, the real lesson is tuning out the noise and choosing kindness when chaos finds you
-CZB