How to open for Andy Grammer - Tour Blog 1
I write this story to encourage you to do what you love, and to list the ways I believe God has mercifully provided for me over the past weeks.
It was another early morning. I braced my hands on the railing of my bunk-bed and swung-jumped to the floor. My socks and hands hit the floor with a thud. That’s the way I like waking. As soon I can pry my eyelids open I want to be running. I had a system to pack all of the gear into my car and this trip I had made a check list to make sure that I didn’t miss anything. For the past 3 years, there has always been something that I forget, but this time I was determined to overlook nothing. I grabbed what little food I could find on the shelf, reviewed the list, and before 8:00 I was backing out the driveway. My 94 Honda had been washed, oil changed but she still billowed like a chain smoker. That rusted little car/bedroom had hauled me faithfully all over the eastern US. My parents, proud to see me off, stood close on the front porch, waiving as the first reasonable snow of the season fell lightly.
I made a bank stop and took a good 25 minutes to sign, add, and hand over the checks that I had made over the past few months. Each check had a story behind it. Each one a little miracle that had given me one more push on the back during the past few months of “job hunting.” I signed the birthday checks, odd job checks, concert checks and my prize check for 500.00. Stopping at the bank has always been a time for me to look back far enough to see a bit of my story unfolding. I wondered how far the experiences of the last few months of my life would finance me through the next few days.
I had won a competition. It was a big competition. Posting videos to a site called topblip.com I had advanced through five rounds and somehow made it to the top with a song called Little Sister. This competition was suggested to through a casual facebook message from a dear friend of mine named Janah James. The grandprize was an opening slot for one of my favorite artists named Andy Grammar. When I entered I had no way of knowing how far it would take me. I figured that I might advance a few rounds, but would be beat out by a label artist that had someone else to get their ducks all in a row. As it turned out, several college friends of mine accrued a small sized army to vote once a day back at my alma mater, Asbury University. On the final round the score settled at about 167 to 39 in my favor. I was exhausted as I pulled out of the bank and headed for the concert in Vienna, VA. Each round of the competition had kept me up so many nights waiting on the 2:00 A.M. verdict. But it was a success! I felt so overwhelmed by the amount of people that had supported me through the rounds the performance with Andy Grammar just felt like a bonus. As I pulled out onto I-70 East I couldn’t help to think that this wasn’t even about the music anymore. It was about everyone that believed in me. It was for them.
The Jammin Jave in Vienna was a good 6 and a half hour drive, which would give me plenty of time to memorize the script that I had written out for myself to deliver at the concert that evening…
Hello Vienna! Hows everybody doing tonight! My name is Abe Parker and this is the Abe Parker Trio. We are here tonight because a website called topblip.com and an artist named Andy Grammar decided to get together and give a struggling artist the chance to perform for you AMAZING people tonight. Here is a song off our new album called Ninety Percent of Reality!
I wanted for the first time to have something memorized and to the point. Unfortunately I have had a bad reputation for talking too long, and this time I wanted it to be clear, quick, humble and too the point. I had one hand to hold the directions, shift, and text my friends “Thank you for voting.” and the other to steer as I drove on through a winter snow/slush storm all the way to D.C. Now over the year I have developed a case of tinnitus and I didn’t want to provoke my ears to ring any more than they already were. So I road with my earplugs in to block out the loud noise of my car and the horrific screeching of my antique windshield wipers. I get made fun of often for driving with earplugs.
Before I knew it, I had arrived in Vienna VA right on the outskirts of DC. Now, as I recall, the night before I had planned to booked a hotel with the 200 dollars that my grandmother had given me for travel expenses. I almost booked a stay an hour and a half down the interstate towards home, but felt kinda funny about it. So I canceled my reservation and rebooked my stay at a place about a mile down the road from the venue in a place called the Vienna Wolftrap Motel. When I checked in with a gentleman named Jeff, who had a long George Washington ponytail and a very colonial accent, he informed me that the Andy Grammar band had also checked in earlier. It seemed more than a coincidence that I felt an inclining to book a random hotel the night before that happened to be the same location that the tour staff was staying.
The stage was extremely full that night and the time was extremely late by the time Robbie Goins, Tyler Young and I set up our gear and got ready for soundcheck. You see, we were the first act to go on and the three bigger acts, including Andy Grammars set, had soundchecked before us and left all of their gear on the stage. Somehow Andy Grammar’s crew managed to get us set up and checked before 7:00 giving us a half hour before showtime. The tour manager, roadie, merchandise worker, and all of the rest of the bands worked with one another in a way that made them seem like family. I was so impressed with the how well they produced such a large-scale show with such a small team. During this show and the shows yet to come I was taken by their level of professionalism and respect for one another.
But it was time. As I walked out on the stage I handed a video camera to one of the girls standing in the front row. We took our instruments and started right away into our first song, Miss Benny. It was a dream concert. People were screaming before we even took the stage, the crowd was packed like cattle in the music hall and fans were pressed up against the stage. But the best feeling came when Robbie laid down the beat, Tyler filled in the bottom, and some in the crowd I think heard singing along to our third song Straight A University Girl. I was so overwhelmed with gratitude for all of the fans that had voted for me in the contest and the mercies of God that had lifted me to such a place that I nearly forgot the lyrics. This was success. This was happiness. This was me doing what I love and making hundred of people happy while doing it. When the room lights flashed up over the people I could see countless bodies moving to our music, and numerous faces unable to keep from smiling. Our message was joy, and that night it was communicated to everyone in that music club.
For an 18-hour round trip drive for my band and a 13 hour round trip drive for myself, a 15 minute show was awfully short. So you had better believe that Robbie, Tyler, and I did our best to make those 15 minutes count. And from what I could see, the people in the Jammin Java caught on to it. Robbie, Tyler, and I after a quick gear pack up, headed to our merch table were a small group of new fans started to trickle towards our table. As we signed Cd’s and sold t-shirts more started to come in. And as the night went on more and more came to congratulate us and thank us for our performance. “I just have one question! Why aren’t you guys famous yet?!” one college student asked us. The rest of the night we met new fan after new fan.
It was about 10:30 when my band said their goodbyes and headed down the 9 hour road towards Lexington, KY. They left with just enough time to get back to work and start working the next day. I am so incredible thankful to them for making the journey to DC to help support me in this endeavor. Days before they informed me that their minds were set to “do this thing” and support me and my music. I truly believe I have stumbled upon a character of gold in the musicians that now make up the Abe Parker Trio and Abe Parker Band. After the crowds left I got the chance to talk with the keyboardist from the main opener act and she was kind enough to show me onto their tour bus. She introduced me to the tour manager, and after a drink and few slices of pizza he asked if I might be able to take him back to the Vienna Wolftrap hotel and then back again to the tour bus. He needed to get to his room to shower before the bus left that night for Philadelphia. I removed my large merch bannar setup and left it behind the garbage bin at the venue to accommodate him and the crew technician and their suitcases. He had only asked me for a ride to the hotel, and planned to get a taxi back. However, because I had removed my merch banner bag I informed him that I needed to get back to the hotel once again to get my gear. That second ride I offered them gave me a chance to ask if there would be any possible way for me to open for the tour once again, the next day in Philidelphia. He graciously said that he would not be able to put me on the stage, but I was more than welcome to come and perform for the crowd standing in the line outside. He said that one of the other opening artists had done that before and if I had the guts to do it, he had nothing against it.
So that is just what I did. I had one change of clothes with me on that trip because I had only planned for one night. Funny how opportunity knocks the loudest when you are least prepared. The next morning I said my goodbyes to Jeff and printed out directions to the World Café in Philadelphia and the Highline Ballroom in New York City, just incase I might be asked to do the same the day after. Upon Jeff’s recommendation I stopped at a historic grocery store called McGrueders, which apparently had been selling fresh produce since 1875. I knew that cheap food is hard to find in the city so I stocked up on cheap pita bread, a green pepper, a red pepper and three cans of beans. This was the cheapest and most filling meal plan that I could afford if I was to make to Philadelphia and back home.
The three and a half hour drive flew by, and before I knew it, I found a parking space right by the venue load-in with a fee of only 4 dollars. Now, the last thing that I wanted to do was offend the tour staff that had given me the chance to perform for the second time. I made every precaution to stay out of their way, and leave them to their jobs. The band recognized me and gave me a wave as I sat in my car making paper swans to hand out to people waiting in the line. Before I knew it, the time had come to start singing for people in the ticket line.
When I was ten years old my father bought me a little Peavey 158 Rage amp and Yamaha electric guitar for my birthday, and to this day it remains the best gift I have ever received. The Yamaha I sold years ago, but the peavey I brought along with me in the back of my car just incase a situation like this might arise. One thing you have to realize about this little transtube amp is that after 10 years of putting out a the sounds of my music, it had developed an extremely loud screech that could be tipped off by the slightest nudge of the instrument cable at the plug in. It was clean and smooth playing unless something or someone happened to bump it off. I knew that such a bump would riddle me as fake or unprofessional to a crowd waiting in line to see a professional live concert. It was nothing short of a miracle that the cable stayed motionless on the amp end with all of my moving and grooving to the tunes I played for those waiting in line. I played for about 45 minutes, and only once did it begin to buzz. Fortunately I was able to catch the amp and turn it off before it was noticeable to anyone in the crowd.
That crowd was a little more difficult to play for than the night before, but after spending the last several months of my holiday season performing at 8:00 A.M. in the corner of a Donut Shop, I was ready for anything. Much to my surprise the crowd clapped for both my cover and original songs and just as soon as I ran out of my A-grade songs the doors opened and the people rushed in. To thank the crew for giving me a chance for a second performance I handed out flyers to the crowds after the show was finished. While handing out flyers I was surprised when several people from the ticket line stopped me and asked to take a picture with me. I even got invited to play at an east coast college by two girls who said that they youtube stalked me during the Andy Grammar concert.
That night around 11:30 I left the venue and waited in my car by the tour bus to see if I might get the chance to talk with one of the band members or tour staff. Several times I nearly put my car in first gear to drive off towards home, but I felt that I wanted to get a final answer about the possibility of playing the next day in New York City. Around 1:30 the crew technician stepped outside of the bus for a smoke and several of the band members came out of the venue to flag a taxi. I thanked them once again for the opportunity and asked if it would be in any way cumbersome if I were to do the same the next day in New York City. To my surprise they said they thought it would be a great idea. In fact, the technician told me a story about how Jack Johnson got his start by performing in a similar way with the Dave Matthew’s Band. To top it off, he offered to lend me the tour’s backup acoustic guitar. This was the guitar that Andy Grammar had used for three years while he was performing on the streets of LA before he got his big break. Because the line in Manhattan would have no electric outlets and I my electric guitar would not be audible I was more than happy to hear the offer. As I got back into my car, the tour manager crossed the street towards with a Pizza box in his hand. He said, “Here is an extra pizza to help with cost. We all know how much you are paying for gas money… So see you in New York?”
Having worked through high school in a pizza shop I was quick to realize that the pizza was very poorly made. The onions were way to thick, and instead of being scattered and sautéed by the oven they were clumped in piles and only half cooked. The slices were disproportionate and cold as the February night. But let me tell you, because that pizza had come with a few kind words from the tour manager it was the best pizza I have ever eaten in my life.
At this point I was nearly worn to exhaustion. The Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday before driving to Vienna, VA for our big show, I had been up until at least 2:00 A.M. every night. Each round of the contest, which ran on Mountain Standard Time, did not end until midnight. Unfortunately that meant it didn’t end in my time until 2:00 A.M. To make things worse, I was running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, trying to pack, practice, prepare, get friends to vote, update facebook, book a hotel, design a website, call the tour manager, and complete a laundry list of other must do’s before tour travel. That is probably why I caught a chest cold three days before the Vienna concert. Now, I don’t mind a head cold when I am singing, but a long lasting chest cold is what keeps my voice from hitting the high notes in most of my songs. During the days I fought myself to stay awake in order that I might be able to fall asleep at night after the long work day. But it was no use. I found myself lying awake thinking about what the perfect words to say to a crowd of Andy Grammar fans might be. I prayed often. “God, please heal me of this sickness.” But matters only got worse. After church the Sunday before the concert, I felt a pain on the left side of my nose. To my horror a large zit had turned to a cyst on the side of my nose overnight leaving a noticeable swollen lump. Through highschool and college I had waged a serious battle with acne, and knew that past cysts had lingered for months and left me with serious facial scarring. The lack of sleep and stress level was starting to takes it’s toll on me and I still had three more days until the concert.
As I sat in my car celebrating alone with my cold pizza, you can see why my body was telling me it just about had enough. By the grace of God the chest cold had left me the night before the Vienna concert, but the cyst still lingered swollen and embarrassing. Earlier that day I had a text-a-thon with a college buddy living in Philly trying to determine if he might be able to offer me a place to stay. I knew that I would not have the money to make it to New York and back home if I booked another hotel, to my dismay he informed me that he was driving in late from DC and would not be able to accommodate me. I told him I understood. After all I had basically invited myself to his house with less than 4 hours of notice.
And so I was on my own. I have been accustomed to sleeping in my car. I did it two nights when I ventured to Nashville, TN to audition for the Voice. It was in the heat of the summer and I could only lie awake all night with my sweat pouring because my housing accommodations fell through at the last minute. That trip I bathed in a lake and tried to save gas money, by walking six miles only to find that the friend I had planned to stay with was out of town. The second time I slept in my car was in the dead of winter and I realized that I had carelessly grabbed a sleeping bag with the broken zipper. So, needless to say, I was not looking forward to another overnight stay in my Honda. The money that I had made from CD sales at the Vienna Show had been dwindling much faster than I had expected, no thanks to the outrageous east coast road tolls. And though the invitation to New York had seemed like a sign from above, I couldn’t help but to consider my heavy eyelids and empty pockets. But, it is in the moments of my greatest need that I have felt God to be closest by my side. Several of the tolls that I drove through that night had either been closed for the evening or temporarily shut down It wasn’t long until I pulled off onto a highway rest-stop halfway from Philly to NYC. Inside the rest stop I took a quick bathroom sink shower and slid on an extra layer of deodorant to keep myself from stinking. I made my way back out to the car and cranked the heat until it was just about unbearable. I threw a few extra bags of gear under my car to make room for my lanky body, flipped back the seats, pulled on my warm Burton snowboarding pants, and through out my sleeping bag. It must have only been 45 seconds after I pulled the key out of the ignition that I collapsed in sleep on my pillow.
To my delight, I must have gotten an extra dose of REM that night because when I awoke around 11:30 that morning I felt strong and rested. Strong and rested enough to take on the streets of New York City. I did pushups on the concrete outside of my car and even ran several laps around the small lawn space at the rest stop. After putting together a set list of original songs I thought Newyorkers might like, I checked the oil and pulled off again onto the highway. The Lincoln Tunnel was so exciting to me that I nearly forgot about the 12 dollar toll fee I paid to cross it, and when I came into the light of Manhattan the first thing that I did was make a wrong turn. I spent the next 45 minutes backtracking because of that one wrong turn. But somehow I managed to find the highland ballroom on 16th and to my surprise there was an open parking space right outside the venue.
Now, the life of a touring artist is one of the most time-demanding jobs, and the last thing I wanted to do was to ask for more time from the production crew. As it turns out, the plan to let me borrow the extra tour guitar was denied, and reasonably so. There was no way for them to know what I planned to do with the guitar. So I set about to make my rounds performing for the people waiting in line without a guitar. I snapped a little for a beat and hummed a few of the bass lines in between verses, and people seemed to enjoy my live music just as much without a 6-string as they did the day before with one. In fact, it seemed easier to encourage people to sing along to cover songs like Girl Put Your Records On, or Love Like This while singing a-capella. As always Lean On Me was a crowd favorite. It was cold, dark, and drizzly on the streets of New York, but people seemed to get the sense that I was there to keep them entertained while waiting in line and they were eager to sign my email list when I asked if they would like me to send them a free mp3 of my music.
The gate open the crowds rushed in. This was the long wait period for me. I knew that because I did not have a ticket I didn’t want to try to sneak into venue. Like I said, the last thing that I wanted to do was to give the tour staff another issue to deal with. So I made friends with the security guard. He was definitely one of the nicest people I have ever met. A little rough around the edges but a good guy at heart. It wasn’t long before a gentleman halted our conversation with a question. “Excuse me, I ordered more tickets than I need for the night, would you know anyone who might need a free ticket?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I told the man I would love a free ticket. Later on that night the security guard I had made friends with found me and led me backstage. I couldn’t help but to think that I was being watched over that night as I enjoyed the Andy Grammar concert for the third night in a row.
Now, finding a parking space in Manhattan right by the venue that I was performing outside of seemed a little to good to be true. But when I had pulled in earlier that day, but I had spoken with a police officer and asked if he recommended that I park in that space. He assured me that the local office was to close in a matter of 20 minutes and that there wasn’t much risk of leaving my Honda where she was. So I didn’t think anything about leaving it parked there. But it wasn’t 20 minutes after the security guard had led me back stage the he ran up, grabbed me by the arm and said. “Is that your white Honda parked out front?” “It’s about to get towed! You better move it now!” And sure enough, I found a city worker lifting the front bumper of the car parked in front of me with a truck crane, getting ready to tow mine next. After I pulled out, it took me five laps around the block to find another space. Three failed attempts and two conversations with traffic cops later I found a nearby, free, and legal parking space.
I was glad to get back into the venue after parking, because the rain was starting to fall harder. As I pushed through the crowds Andy and his band started to play my favorite live song, The Heavy and the Slow. It was beautiful. A simple drum groove, a fretless bass, and an accordion lit up the dark grungy New York Room and an awe fell over the crowd. But I was still unsettled. I knew that Andy Grammar’s management team was in attendance that night, and it was all that I could do to keep myself from marching up to their private booth and saying, “Here I am. Where do I sign up?” Thoughts like, “I have been through so much, I deserve to be famous” and “You’re just not pushing yourself hard enough Abe” started to flood my mind. The song wound to an end and Andy began telling his story about how he hit a low point at age 25. Business fell through for him and his mother died. He said life is too short to not do what you love, and with that he made an alter call to anyone willing to pursue what they love no matter the cost. There I was, a boy from Blue Rock Ohio all the way in New York City, chasing the one thing I thought I loved the most. I whispered a prayer, “Help me make the right contact tonight heavenly father.”
I once had college professor tell me that I should only write about God if I believed he was in my life. Trying to fit God into my songs and stories when he wasn’t there is nothing short of a religious swank or a downright lie. Now, as a Christian I claim to believe the doctrine that there is one all-powerful God who sent his only son to die for my sins. As long as I believe he died to pay the debt demanded by my sin and rose back to life again he offers me eternal life with him. In the Bible, his one request to his followers was to love God with all of their hearts, and to love their neighbors as themselves. With that I would like to level my dive into theological discourse because I realize that there may be many readers who do not share the same views that I hold. While I would gladly take the time to talk with anyone interested in my beliefs, I realize that an internet blog or short story is not the proper medium to carry on such a conversation. Nevertheless, to justly tell my story it was necessary to briefly explain my set of beliefs.
That’s why I say cautiously but proudly that standing there in the Highline Ballroom I believe God answered my prayer. Just six simple words came to my mind. “Abe, I just want your heart.” Not the answer I wanted to hear, but an answer nonetheless. Earlier in my high school years, my heart was stolen by a beautiful girl. That relationship, like most first loves, ended painfully, and what heart I had left I had poured into music. But for all the beauty of that Andy Grammar song being played in the concert club that night, I began to realize that it wouldn’t give me what I want. There comes a point in some men’s lives when they realize that there is just no way to make themselves happy. Some never hit that point. Being weighed down by the busyness of making an honest living it’s easy to buy into the lie of… if only I had ________ then I would be ________. Everybody fills in the blank different, but I think the lie is still there. Some don’t hit it until they get everything they want and then don’t know what to do with it all. I believe it’s the lucky ones that realize that happiness is something they can only give and receive from others. Before I waste my life in pursuit of the fill in the blanks I figure it’s time to do what I believe really mattered. So right there, in the middle of New York City, I decided to give what Mr. Grammer had to say a chance. I made a promise to do what I really needed to do. Love God with all my heart and love my neighbor as myself. However, the best part of the deal was yet to come. I realized that one of the greatest ways I show my love for God and neighbor is through music. I believe my God-given music ability is the one thing I think I might have a chance at being good at. I wanna use music to show love! It’s all about love!
The night went by quickly, and I got a chance to meet all of the Andy Grammar management team. I was sure to thank them for the amazing opportunity they had given me through the topblip contest. I wanted to make a good impression but not push things. I knew asking for a record contract or another opening slot with Andy Grammar upon a first conversation would be a perfect way to get booted out the door. But I planned on contacting them in the following days with such questions via email. That night, after the show, I spent another evening on the folded backseat of my Honda, but I rested peacefully knowing that my heart was in the right place.
So that is my story… so far. I hope that it has encouraged you in at least a small way no matter what your beliefs. In closing, I would like to say how incredibly lucky I feel to have so many people that are willing to support me. To all of my friends, family, and fans(which consist of friends and family) I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart! I would be nothing without each and every one of you. I hope this challenges you all to find something worth your love, and pursue it no matter what the cost is. It’s all about love.
