For Wesley Schultz, Saturday’s historic concert in his adopted hometown of Denver was the highlight of his musical career. And yet, “This is the lowest point in my life,” the vulnerable frontman for The Lumineers told the crowd. “But you’ve got to accept it all.”

This was a concert 20 years in the making. And this was a concert 56 years in the making.

The Lumineers, who moved to Denver in 2009, are celebrating their 20th year as a band. And Saturday’s massive musical event, which also featured Denver’s other breakout musical juggernaut, Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats, is believed to be the first concert headlined by a Denver band at Mile High Stadium or its predecessors dating back to 1969. 

The estimated 50,000 who cheered, sang, danced and stomped along wore wrist lights that were programmed to create a choreographed lighting effect that essentially made everyone in attendance a part of the visual show.

But surely there was at least one more light bounding among that constellation.

Schultz dedicated the show to his younger brother and best friend, Samuel Schultz, who died suddenly on May 27 while Wesley was touring in the United Kingdom. He was just 39, leaving a wife and two children.

Near the end of a five-hour night extended by a wind advisory that stopped the show for a half hour, Schultz called Rateliff to the stage for a duet honoring Sam and his family: Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind.” Schultz and his brother grew up in nearby New Jersey.

“I’m coming at you with a heavy heart. My whole family is,” Schultz shared. “I’ve been imagining my little brother looking down on all this and trying to make him proud in some strange way.”

In dedicating the Billy Joel song, he continued: “I just want to say, I’m really grateful for music. I’m grateful for all it’s done for me. I’m grateful for it right now. Because I have somewhere to put all this grief.”

He dedicated “New York State of Mind” to his sister-in-law, her children, and “for anyone who is missing someone tonight.

“I hope you’re feeling the love. We’re feeling the love.”

As for the show being stopped by, of all things, a dry gust of wind? For anyone with a sentimental bone in their body, it sure felt like that was some sort of presence announcing itself.

The recurring theme of the evening was coming to terms with loss and claiming joy. Rateliff has long made a point in his shows to remember his late producer and good friend, songwriter Richard Swift. In his earlier set, Rateliff dedicated the song “Get Used to the Night” to Swift and the Schultz family.

“Richard Swift was not only a huge part of our friendship and our lives, but he was an integral part to the beginning of our career on our first two records,” Rateliff said.

“I just want to recognize what the Schultz family has gone through lately and how much you have all reached out to them. … We want to dedicate this song to Sam and recognizing loss and moving forward with joy.”

Following an opening set by piano-driven British singer-songwriter Tom O’Dell, who’d be right at home on any bill with Billy Joel, Rateliff turned Mile High into an old-fashioned church revival. And speaking of joy, Rateliff, who pretty much goes through real life in a state of quiet and humble calm, seemed overtaken with an almost beguiled happiness to be playing here, now, after literally being musically born more than 20 years ago in Denver’s smallest musical crannies. He entered the stage introducing the Night Sweats as “an R&B band from Denver, Colorado,” with an almost incredulous ebullience. 

“This just shows that if you work hard, and you have a fantastic community that supports you, you can grow into something much bigger than you have eyes to see,” he said. “I feel like we’ve come a long way … from the Meadowlark to the hi-dive. We’ve played so many shows over the years together, and to be here (now), what a blessing.”

His set was more of a co-headlining affair than an opening act, with 15 foot-stopping, horn-infused, ground-shaking songs culminating in the hip-shaking anthems “S.O.B.” and the ‘60s-giddy “Love Don’t.”

Schultz similarly took in every moment of the Lumineers’ set. Playing here, not even 2 miles from the house he shares with his wife and two children, he and his mates played like they never wanted the evening to end. The set list included 26 songs – 27 if you count that they played “Angela” twice – before and after the wind delay.

That set list included recurring anthems of loss, addiction and (sometimes) recovery, all presented in a spirit of relentless mass elation, including the band’s signature canon of titular women: “Gloria,” “Ophelia,” “Angela,” “Donna,” and “Cleopatra.”

Nobody writes a hook these days like the songwriting duo of Schultz and co-founder Jeremiah Fraites. But if you are listening to The Lumineers without really listening to the words, go back and really listen to “Gloria.” Schultz gave the crowd something mind-bending to think about when he asked them to consider the love song “Ativan” from the perspective of the drug. (“If I can’t make you happy, then nobody can.”)

If you were following the band back in the early days, you know that the Lumineers are known for leaving the stage, like the night in 2012 they climbed into the balcony of the comparatively tiny Bluebird Theater to perform “Darlene.” Anyone who might wonder whether success has in any way changed or spoiled the band, not to worry. Halfway through Saturday’s show, Schultz walked the entire circumference of the Empower Field bowl high-fiving gobsmacked fans while singing “Brightside.”

The night got about as Denver-centric as it could get when Broncos mascot Miles came on stage to dance his way through “Ophelia.” But no one embodied the prevailing happiness of the evening more than keyboardist Stelth Ulvang, the only band member who is Colorado-born. (He’s from Fort Collins.) Ulvang leapt atop every leapable object wearing a mustard suit and a smile as wide as the Poudre Canyon. He clapped. He cajoled. At one point, he played the piano with a single toe.

It was all such a cauldron of feels, best summed up by yet another of the songwriting duo’s uncanny lyrical gems – one that pretty much sums up where the Schultz family must be at the moment – or the place they are collectively striving hard to find:

“I don’t know where we are, but it’ll be OK.”

More photos

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