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“It’s about being your true f–king authentic self” exclaimed Elle King during her performance at Boston’s Roadrunner on Feb. 24. Silhouetted by pink spotlights and with the enormous letters “EK” traced in lightbulbs behind her, it seemed hard to believe. By the end of the show, however, she managed to live up to that statement. In the constant tug-of-war that popular country artists face between making boatloads of money and still trying to stay as relatable as possible to their fans, King straddled the line with grace. Her endearing stories and down-to-earth songs provided her with a solid connection to the audience and, hey, she played some good music along the way!

As King and her band launched into the upbeat groove of “Tulsa” to start the set, her teasing and playfulness immediately came to the foreground, contributing to her overall image as a woman full of self-confidence, which complemented the vocals she laid out casually. Her backing quartet of keyboard, drums, guitar, and bass only helped with the command over her image. Though she remained the focal point of the show, the keyboard and bass players especially shined, providing stellar rhythms to cement a variety of grooves and giving the guitarist a pocket with which to occasionally take the musical lead.

Even with the group’s unshakeable strength, King seemed to have a chip on her shoulder when it came to proving her worth as a country artist. At one point, she proclaimed that “If you got a problem with Kentucky, you got a f–king problem with me,” despite being an Ohio native. When introducing “Drunk” she made sure to point out that she and Tyler Childers are the “only two country acts at RCA … in New York City”, which seemed more like an attempt at validation for being country than a real celebration of country artists. As such, her performance tended to fluctuate. There were moments of somewhat overemphasized attempts at being country, but there were also legitimately endearing ones. When she talked about getting kicked out of school in second grade, the crowd couldn’t help but laugh, and her mini monologue of how it was important for kids to see a “woman who looks different and talks different” could have come off as hollow, but seemed to originate from a place of real caring.

However, despite her singing talent and graspable songs, King’s performance still suffered in a few respects. In the mid-sized 3,500-person venue, King managed to appear somewhat small. She rarely moved across the stage, taking only a few steps throughout the entire concert, and viewers more than ten rows deep were already looking significantly less engaged. A lack of adequate energy permeated the performance, with a distinct exception at the very end. As she launched into “Drunk” for what was clearly the last song of her set, the crowd seemed to perk up, and their chorus of the words “Baby I’m drunk and I don’t wanna go home” echoed so powerfully it almost felt desperate. In some respects, that song was emblematic of the concert’s potential, with dancing galore and a crowd louder than the singer herself.

More stage presence, some substantial crowd interaction, and even introducing her band earlier would all have created a more complete experience. At the end of the day, though, King’s concert hit hardest in her stories. Recounting the time an elementary school teacher laughed at her for saying she wanted to be a singer when she grew up and how she proved her wrong, King connected to her audience. Her message to the crowd that an ordinary person like them really could achieve their dreams if they just keep at it has been said before by a thousand different performers, and somehow it always feels cliche and hollow. But in that moment, spotlit by a myriad of colors, effortlessly winding her voice through lilting melodies while strumming away at a banjo, King could make you believe it.