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INDIO, Calif. − “Eric Church is a fraud!”

That was how one frustrated spectator standing nearby on the lawn Friday night loudly − and more than likely drunkenly − let his feelings be known about the headliner’s unconventional and controversial set, which saw him eschew playing most of his biggest hits in favor of a set of covers heavy on gospel songs like “This Little Light of Mine” and iconic rap hits like “Gin and Juice” − all while backed by a gospel choir.  

The unruly, unhappy festgoer was far from the only person to have an, uh, deeply emotional response to the set as social media lit up Friday night with a plethora of posts from fans furious about Church’s decision to deny them his hits, as well as a few from defenders of the set who used words like “refreshing,” “visionary” and “badass” to describe it.

But even among fans who appreciated the set, some questions remained: What did it all mean? And was Church just messing with the crowd?

Eric Church describes his risky gospel set at Stagecoach as doing something 'really, really strange and weird'

Shortly after the set ended, Church contributed to the discourse in a news release from his record label explaining that the set was “an attempt to take the crowd back to the foundation of where it started for him musically.”

“This was the most difficult set I have ever attempted,” Church said in the release. “I've always found that taking it back to where it started, back to chasing who Bob Seger loves, who Springsteen loves, who Willie Nelson loves, you chase it back to the origin. The origin of all that is still the purest form of it. And we don't do that as much anymore. It felt good at this moment to go back, take a choir and do that.”

Church’s statement also seemed to anticipate that not everyone would likely be on board with the performance but that he was happy with his choice to do what he wanted anyway.

“For me, it's always been something with records, with performances, I've always been the one that's like, ‘Let's do something really, really strange and weird and take a chance,’ ” he said. “Sometimes it doesn't work, but it's OK if you're living on that edge, because that edge, that cutting edge, is where all the new guys are going to gravitate to anyway. So if you can always challenge yourself that way, it always cuts sharper than any other edge.”

It's clear Church sought to live on the edge (and risk getting "cut") and he succeeded in that respect by delivering what is surely the most unusual, controversial and ultimately destined-to-be discussed desert festival sets since at least Frank Ocean’s Coachella debacle last year. Whether fans liked it or not is, of course, another matter.

It seems destined to inspire a new round of discourse about what artists owe their wristband-buying audience vs. themselves and how much latitude fans should extend to their favorites to take their creativity in new and sometimes unexpected directions.

Stagecoach:Eric Church sends festivalgoers for the exits with acoustic gospel set

So while we’re all giving our takes, here’s mine: I can certainly understand why Church would want to try something new, especially at a festival he's played several times before.

And once I got over the initial shock, I actually somewhat enjoyed Church’s show. His vocals sounded excellent and were showcased in new ways, the choir was a great pairing that delivered several impressive notes in their own right and the initial moments when he switched from gospel to rap (complete with a rush of swear words) were some of the most delightfully intriguing I have ever seen at Stagecoach, which, let’s face it, has never been a hotbed of experimental artsiness.

At the same time, though, that was my first time seeing Church and I left feeling a little weird about whether I can really say I’ve seen him at all given there was no “Talladaga,” no “Record Year,” and no “Hell of a View,” all songs I had looked forward to hearing since he was put onto the lineup. While I was excited when he did finally play a slightly understated version of “Springsteen” to close the show, even that had a certain “here’s one little hit, as a treat" quality that felt off-putting and possibly even insulting.

Furthermore, it was distracting to spend so much of the set wondering where it was going (and not really in a good way), so in the very least Church, who only spoke about four words to the crowd, could've at least taken some time to explain some of his thinking at some point.

As media, I didn’t have to pay for a ticket. But I imagine if I had, my feelings would be a lot stronger and perhaps less generous. So ultimately, while I was glad to witness Church doing something new, I think Church should’ve maybe thought a little more about whether Stagecoach − where thousands of people had spent all day in the heat and wind waiting to see him − was the best place to play on the cutting edge, as he put it.