The Most Polarizing Eric Church Songs That Changed Country Music

Eric Church has never been afraid to stir the pot. Over the past two decades, he's become country music's most unpredictable superstar. This artist thrives on pushing boundaries, blending genres, and taking risks that few others in Nashville would dare to take. Whether it's ditching the hits for gospel at a massive festival, confronting political taboos, or scrapping shows for family time, Church's career is marked by moments that both electrify and alienate. Read on to explore Eric Church songs that sparked controversy.

At the 2024 Stagecoach Festival, Church delivered one of the most confounding sets of his career — a 90-minute acoustic gospel performance that stunned his fans and left the festival grounds half-empty. Backed by a 16-member choir and a towering stained-glass backdrop, Church performed spiritual songs, including "I Saw The Light," "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," and "This Little Light of Mine." The crowd expected his hits; instead, they got Tupac's "California Love" and Snoop Dogg's "Gin & Juice" reimagined as gospel meditations.

According to Saving Country Music, only 20% of the crowd remained by the end of the set. Fans weren't just confused — they were disappointed. Even Church's fiercely loyal fan club, the Church Choir, criticized his lack of connection that night. He didn't speak to the audience until 66 minutes in. Afterward, Church explained to People that he wanted to take music "back to the origin" and do "something really, really strange and weird."

Following the 2017 Route 91 Harvest Festival shooting, Church returned to the Grand Ole Opry visibly shaken. He had headlined the festival just two days before the massacre that killed more than 50 people. During his performance, he shared an emotional tribute, describing how he'd interacted with victims, such as Sonny and Heather Melton, who had been in the front row. Sonny, a member of the Church Choir, was later buried in an Eric Church T-shirt.

He debuted his latest song, "Why Not Me," that night. Some called it a healing anthem, comparing it to Alan Jackson's "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)." Others criticized the track for being self-focused. Church admitted in later interviews that the tragedy broke something in him. "I was the bait," he said. "People come to see you play, then all of a sudden they die?" He confessed to a six-month depression and ongoing anger, calling the massacre a turning point in his career and worldview.

In 2018, Church doubled down on his outsider identity by collaborating with underground Texas legend Ray Wylie Hubbard on "Desperate Man." It wasn't just a creative nod; it was a symbolic alliance. Hubbard, known for his gritty poetry, addiction recovery, and outlaw ethos, was someone Church had name-dropped in "Mr. Misunderstood" alongside Elvis Costello and Jeff Tweedy. The two wrote "Desperate Man" after a conversation about fate and frustration, drawing from Hubbard's real-life visit to a fortune teller who told him he had no future.

The song and video — featuring vinyl deals as drug deals — was defiant and strange, a bold departure from Nashville polish. Onstage in Dallas, Church brought Hubbard out to perform "Screw You, We're From Texas," cementing their shared disdain for country music conformity. For Church fans, the moment was thrilling. For others, it was baffling. Either way, it signaled that Church was no longer flirting with rebellion — he was all in.

Released in 2025, Evangeline vs. The Machine was Church's most direct critique of the commercial country industry. Recorded in four days with minimal preproduction and heavy orchestration, the album was compact — eight songs in under 30 minutes — and uncompromising. He described it as "a battle for everything creative," rejecting the algorithm-driven, TikTok-optimized approach dominating country radio.

Songs such as "Johnny," written in the wake of the Covenant School shooting, didn't shy away from political provocation; it featured a central line, "machines control the people, and the people shoot at kids." The album debuted at No. 30 on the Billboard 200 chart — his lowest placement in over a decade — with just 20,500 equivalent units sold in the U.S. But for Church, that was beside the point. The singer had proven once again that he'd rather lose chart position than compromise vision.

Church has never tiptoed around political minefields, setting him apart from a genre notorious for avoiding controversy. After the Vegas shooting, he came out in favor of gun control — despite identifying as a "Second Amendment guy." He called for closing gun-show loopholes and banning bump stocks, openly criticizing the National Rifle Association's lobbying power. "Nobody should own 21 AKs and 10,000 rounds of ammunition," he stated in an interview.

His political courage continued with his advocacy for the COVID-19 vaccine. He posed for the April 2021 cover of Billboard magazine, receiving the vaccine, echoing Elvis Presley's polio vaccination photo from 1956.

In 2021, he performed the national anthem with R&B singer Jazmine Sullivan at the Super Bowl. The duet drew mixed reviews — some celebrated its cultural bridge-building, while others were baffled by the pairing. Earlier, his song "Kill a Word," a collaboration with Rhiannon Giddens, tackled hate, racism, and verbal violence. Performed at the 2016 Country Music Association Awards, it was one of Church's most daring political statements, proving his commitment to using country music as a platform for moral reflection.

In 2022, Church ignited fan outrage when he canceled a sold-out concert in San Antonio, Texas, so that he could take his family to the Final Four matchup between his beloved University of North Carolina Tar Heels and the Duke Blue Devils. He called it "the most selfish thing I've ever asked the Choir to do." The backlash was swift; many had traveled great distances to see him, but Church later made amends with a free makeup show.

Eric Church's polarizing tracks and controversial moments reflect deeper tensions within country music: between tradition and evolution, commerce and conscience, and playing the game versus rewriting the rules. Church has built a legacy defined not by perfection but by principled imperfection.

Church's path isn't for everyone. But in a genre often dominated by formula, he reminds listeners that risk is the cost of authenticity. Love him or hate him, Eric Church has reshaped country music by daring to be exactly who he is — even when it costs him.