No-Snitch Tour Diaries Part III

As I build toward the release of Live At Royal Albert Hall (Preorder here) I’ll be sharing my tour journals from the 2025 tour with Father John Misty that concluded with the soon to be immortalized concert at Royal Albert Hall.

No one will be snitched on in these writings. These are about what it was like for me, a largely unknown, entirely independent artist to take on a massive EU/UK tour as the support act for a beloved artist.

I’m publishing these here for a few reasons. 1) It might be interesting to like 3-5% of my readers. 2) It should be interesting and helpful to anyone wondering what it takes to pull off a tour like this all by your lonesome. 3) Apparently artists are supposed to provide “content” and I don’t have it in me to get into Tik-Tok.

COPENHAGEN - APRIL 5

I’ve been looking forward to this one. My dad took my brother and me to Copenhagen once when we were kids. They had this popsicle for sale all over the place called the Pilfinger. It was a red creamsicle shaped like a hand holding up one finger. The tip of the finger was dipped in chocolate.

This is my first time back. I pop out of the bus and am hit with the most glorious sunny, cold, clear Copenhagen day. I notice a coffee and pastry shop called Hart down the road so I head out. I sit by the river and enjoy a cortado and a croissant.

I head back to the bus to unload my stuff and get the lay of the land. So far this is the most labyrinthine of all the venues. Multiple elevators. Alarms set off when I go through the wrong door. I need a badge to get in, and another to get to the merch table. I can’t find the woman who can give me that badge.

I’m told ice is scarce here. The drinks are baking in the sun by the window in the green room.

I try to follow Erica’s directions to the catering room but get lost. Feels like I’m in that show Severance. When I finally find it it’s clear to me that there are going to be better food options on the street. But this is a business trip. You fight for every dollar you can save or earn. I choke something down. The bread was good, though. Or at least I remember someone saying that the bread was good.

I hit the streets. I am in love with this place. I happen to catch the guards at the palace doing their ceremonial dance or changing of the guard. It’s a Saturday and people are OUTSIDE.

After years of marijuana use I’m four months into quitting at this point. When people ask me if I notice any difference I always mention this day. I’m able to walk around Copenhagen and aside from any anxieties about the show or failed merch transactions I’m totally content. To be satisfied with what is in front of me and not feeling the need to augment the experience with a substance is liberating.

I stop in a couple of shops where I buy a replica of the little mermaid statue for my daughter and a miniature Rolls Royce for my son. Somehow my kids gravitated toward gender norms without any deliberate influence from their parents. It seems to be baked in somehow.

The proprietor of one of the shops hears my accent and asks where I’m from. “Los Angeles.” What are you doing in town? “Playing a show.” Where are you playing? “The opera house,” I declare, proudly. He’s impressed. One of those precious moments in life where I can puff out my chest when answering a question about my day to day. It’s not often so impressive.

I walk out to the little mermaid statue and get a cortado from a cart. Reasonably priced. Why can’t it be like this back home? I imagine it has something to do with tax codes and/or greed. I walk around the Kastellet military park. Buzzing. High on life.

Time to head back to the opera house. I haven’t even seen the stage yet. I make my way to it and as I look out at the vast, beautiful house I am dumbstruck. How the hell did I find myself here? I’m supposed to hold court at a sold out Copenhagen Opera House for 45 minutes in just a few hours with songs that I wrote on my couch while watching television? Breathe it in. Today, things are as you want them to be.

It’s a whole thing to find the merch area. I manage to get the security badge but I’m still lost. The venue keeps changing. They are literally moving walls around backstage. Doors are no longer where they were before.

I have low expectations for merch tonight. I dread seeing all those sales get declined like in Stockholm the night before.

Before the tour I bought a portable stereo recorder. Figured I would try to get some recordings of the shows. Maybe I can get Royal Albert Hall. I figure I’ll try tonight. I find the guy doing sound and he says sure, no problem. I’m surprised at how easy that was. Especially at a government run place like this.

Almost show time. I position myself by the stage and exchange some banter with Noah through my nerves. This shit is crazy. Kris comes over to give me the green light. The lights dim. Here I go.

I’ve learned over the years that the characteristics of a venue inform the crowd how to behave. In a big rock club with a bar in the room the crowd can be rowdy and hard to compete with as a solo act (shout out to Bogart’s in Cincinnati). In an opera house the crowd will be dead silent and attentive. This plays to my advantage.

I notice during the first couple of songs that there is some kind of mist emanating from behind me out toward the crowd. Am I overheating? Is my head steaming? It turns out they pump water vapor out onto the stage for singers. This shit is deluxe. Which is why I’m shocked at what happens next.

I break into the third song of my set, Acrylic & Bleach. All is going well until about halfway through when every light in the building goes out. It’s pitch black. The sound hasn’t gone out so I keep playing. The crowd reacts with uncertainty. They aren’t sure if this is planned or not.

To play a solo show to a crowd like this you have to go temporarily insane. There are two options: be completely terrified or be fearless and unflappable. You have to choose the latter. You are unstoppable. The consummate pro. So when these lights go out, by any measure a complete disaster, I ride through it and somehow launder it into even more confidence. Fuck it.

The lights kick back on and I’m relieved. I rode out the storm and now things are back to normal. So I think. About ten seconds later the lights go out again. I can see the headlamps of the lighting guys dart around feverishly in the back as they try to figure out what’s going on.

The crowd now understands what I’m going through and they rally for me. They clap in rhythm. The ones who aren’t clapping pull their phones out and turn on the flashlights. Pretty soon the entire room has their phone lights on me. The modern day equivalent of “putting your lighter up”. I realize that I am in a moment. This is special.

When the lights kick back on I’m almost disappointed. The moment has been cut short. No matter - the lights cut out again. This is madness. In the prestigious, government run Copenhagen Opera House of all places.

This happens once or twice more. But now the crowd and I are one. We did it together. I’m grateful.

The issue is resolved by the end of the song. I guess they had to reboot the lighting system.

After my set I pass some of the Misty guys in the hall. “CROWD’S READY”. It doesn’t get the laughs it got yesterday. Time to hang it up.

I run out to merch. There’s a line! A mother and daughter who I had spoken to briefly before the show are waiting there. They want a record and a shirt. They tap their card. Declined. FUCK. They have to walk away empty handed. I consider just giving it to them but I don’t. Next person up, SUCCESS. It’s about 50/50 for the next few people. One guy buys it for a woman who’s payment won’t work. People are cool.

Misty starts playing so I leave my post to head out and find some food. I didn’t eat much that day. Everything is closed. Turns out food after 9pm isn’t really a thing here. I guess I’ll have to find some chips in the green room. Damn.

Erica is getting more Misty shirts out of her trailer on my way back in. She’s got pizza coming. She’s the best. Doesn’t get enough credit. Shout out to Erica Turer.

I grab a slice. It’s no Swedish burrito but it fills the gap.

I watch a little from side stage. These dudes are killers.

I make my way to merch after the show and oh baby, I’ve got a LINE. It’s bittersweet as I know that most of these people will be turned away with declined payments. I step up. Explain the situation to the first customer. Tap. BANG. Success. Next customer. Tap. BANG. Success. Damn near every transaction goes through. Pretty soon all of my records are GONE. SOLD OUT. The very ones I almost left for dead in Uplands Vassby the day before. I have to turn people away.

A pregnant woman comes up and in an American accent says, “It’s so nice to see Seattle guys up there. You guys were all so little back then.” Cute moment. Fun to know that people have been following along all this time. Years ago Josh was a drummer and I was singing back up vocals in bands in Seattle. Time changes shit. It’s reassuring to be reminded of that. To be placed back in time for a moment where you can see that you will become someone that resembles who you aspire to be.

I head back to the green rooms. I haven’t had much time with Josh yet this tour. He’s a great friend but I’m so deeply grateful to him for this opportunity that I notice myself feeling oddly nervous around him. It’s like I don’t know how to express my gratitude properly. I sit down and tell him that it’s hard to not constantly thank him. He tells me how well it is going and how proud he is to have me out there. This is not a one sided arrangement. I’m here because I belong here. He wouldn’t entrust these crowds to me just to be nice. This means a lot and it frees me from my imposter syndrome.

I tell him and Noah that those records I had fought so hard for the day before are now sold. Apparently this is not normal. It’s good news. They’re stoked. The bad news is I’ve got 4 upcoming shows where I won’t have any vinyl to sell before I get my next shipment in the UK. I wonder if it’s worth trying to get another shipment overnighted. They say absolutely. We strategize about how to get this done. They have my back and I love them for it.

I begin the process of getting all my shit through the labyrinth and out to the bus. I FaceTime my family back home. They’re just waking up. I bum a smoke. I show Kyle the video of the lights going out on me. We watch a video of Benson Boone doing a back flip off of a piano. I head into the bus. Dave puts on Terminator 2. I’ve just played the greatest show of my life to date. I’ll lean on this one come Judgement Day.