No Snitch Tour Diaries Part IX

To celebrate the release of Live At Royal Albert Hall on vinyl and bandcamp (both available NOW) I present my journals from the 2025 tour with Father John Misty. These writings provide the narrative leading up to the now immortalized concert at Royal Albert Hall.

No one will be snitched on in these writings. This is 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 an established, beloved act.

EDINBURGH - APRIL 12

When I roll off the bus this morning it’s parked somewhere a couple of miles from the venue, tucked in between vacant brick buildings. Grass bursts from every crack in the concrete. Allegedly, there is a van that can take us over to the venue but it has already come and gone. It takes me a while to get my shit together. You can sleep forever in these buses. I cut my losses and call an Uber.

Usher Hall is in the middle of town. Edinburgh Castle looks down on it from the hillside. It’s a bit of a haul getting from the curb to the side of the building and into the venue. As I drag my bags past the road cases I see the friendly guy who keeps popping up at mealtime pulling on moving gloves as he unloads the truck. He’s the truck driver. Mystery solved. He offers a smile.

When I get inside, there is a corridor filled with newly arrived boxes of Father John Misty merchandise. Somewhere in this pile, like needles in a haystack, are my new shipments of records and a restock of shirts. After convincing myself that they didn’t make it, I finally find my boxes buried deep in the rubble.

I’ve arranged for twice as many records as I had delivered in Sweden to arrive in the UK where will we play half as many shows. These are big crowds though and I have faith that my music will connect with the people of the UK. I’m hoping I can move all of them for the remaining four shows, but I envision leaving a bunch of unsold records on top of a dumpster on my way to Heathrow airport in just a few days.

Usher Hall is old and ornate. Regal. Backstage is a little musty. Creaky doors. Worn carpets. Like the administrative wing of an old cathedral. Very unlike the venues we’ve recently played. I lean my shoulder into a few heavy doors until one pops open to reveal the green room.

Between my clothes, my instrument, and merchandise, I have a significantly bigger green room footprint than the rest of the party. People have to squeeze by while I dig through my luggage in the center of the threadbare, red carpet. Once I extract what I need, I shove my bags under a table and strike out to get the lay of the land.

Some of the guys are eating at a place called Nando’s. It’s a Peri Peri chicken restaurant. I’m intrigued, so I head over. When I enter the building I’m met with a distinct corporate sheen. There are a few UK restaurant chains that are spoken of with great reverence - Nando’s, Wagamama, Dishoom. Classy joints.

I see some of the Misty band finishing up their meals so I get seated a couple of tables over from them. It’s an awkward arrangement but I want them to feel free to leave when they are finished. I order the Garlic Churrasco Burger. Fantastic.

I figure I’ll find a coffee and walk up to the castle. We’ve just been on a tour through the premier coffee cities of Europe so there’s a noticeable drop-off in quality here. Or so they say. I’m not all that discerning. But it’s the first time I’ve seen instant coffee sticks in the green room.

Another beautiful sunny and cold day. I see that it’s forty pounds to get in to Edinburgh castle so I pass. I remember touring the castle with my dad and brother on the trip we took when I was ten. We ate fried haggis balls later that night with some starchy chap that my dad knew. He was in the business of developing transgenic sheep. Aside from that, all I remember about him is that despite being a pretty dreary fella, he livened up when he proclaimed his passion for ketchup and promised that he could eat a whole bowl of it with a spoon.

I get in a good hike. Miles of Hogwarts aesthetic, for lack of a better reference. I slouch through an old graveyard. I FaceTime my family from a park. They’re just waking up. I’m excited to see them soon but also feeling the pangs of sorrow. What the hell am I going to do with myself when I get back? Who will I be? What will I be working toward? I don’t know what effect this tour will have on my career, if any.

My phone buzzes to a text from Noah. Josh has an in-store performance in Liverpool the next day. The crew has to be at the venue in Manchester setting up so he wants Kyle to act as deputy “tour manager” and I as “guitar tech” for this one show. Get there a little early, tune the guitar, sound check for him, etc. I’m happy to help.

There is a burrito waiting for me in the green room which I had requested earlier because there is no catering at this venue. I don’t really want it anymore but I see it as my duty to get it down nonetheless. They make them better in Sweden. Josh and I grimace as we gullet them in front of the vanity mirrors in the green room. Showtime.

I’m feeling good about this one because the house is packed, but I’ve been warned that northern Englanders and Scots can be a little rowdy. It could be hard to compete with the noise. There is a little chatter, but they cheer like mad between songs and when I’m done. It’s a great show. Josh seems surprised at how quiet the crowd was during my set. I’m back.

Things are moving pretty well at the merch table between sets. I’m no longer having any trouble taking payments. I’m in business. So glad to have vinyl again, but man, there are a lot of them left.

I’m outside in the alley during Misty’s set when a couple of guys from the band hustle off stage right and out the side door. They’re not playing on this specific song so they know they have a couple of minutes to smoke. They hastily draw back their yellow American Spirits as they listen carefully through in-ear monitors to know when the current song is ending and it’s time for them to rush back in and onto the stage. It’s exciting to me.

Not sure what to expect at the merch table after the show, but it’s glorious. Tons of love. I sell a bunch of records. A number of shirts. I pose for pictures. Things are as they should be. But part of the crowd must have been ushered out another door. Erica and I can tell that not everyone came past us. I feel much better though. After quickly packing up, I barely get all of my stuff into one of the vans before it leaves and takes us back to the buses.

As we sit on the stoop of this vacant brick building in the distant parking lot, waiting for bus call, I ask Joel how I should have Josh’s guitar set up for tomorrow’s in-store performance. Tuned to D standard, plugged into a tuning pedal, picks on a stool next to the mic, capo on the headstock.

Off to bed. We will wake up in Liverpool for the morning in-store then head to Manchester for the show.

I lay in my bunk contemplating a bag of paprika flavored Lay’s potato crisps. I’m on the fence. I’m interested to try this flavor, but if I do I’ll have to brush my teeth again. After a brief deliberation I click the light off and tuck the bag into the corner next to my pillow. As far as this lifestyle is concerned, I’m a natural.