10 years ago: how I became a touring musician

The phone call that changed my life forever, and the crazy ride it's been

On April 24, 2015, I got a phone call that changed my life and work forever.

“I have some good news and some bad news. What do you want to hear first?”

I was expecting this call, but I had no idea where the outcome would land. The caller was Mitch Parks, my friend and brother-in-law at the time. Mitch was also the touring keyboard player and music director for contemporary Christian artist Matt Maher.

I was expecting this call from Mitch because I had been waiting with baited breath to find out if I was going to replace him. A recent bass player vacancy in the band meant Mitch was planning to switch instruments, and he was looking to hire someone to fill the keys position he was leaving behind. If this opportunity came through for me, it would be a childhood dream fulfilled. I still remember watching live concert footage of Carman (my favorite artist when I was 8), looking at the musicians on stage and thinking, “that’s what I want to do with my life.” I had fallen in love with playing music from an early age. My dad and mom both taught me piano starting at 5 years old, and I began playing in our church’s worship band at 10 (first drums, then piano). Imagining myself in a touring band playing concert halls and arenas just made sense to me.

The thing is, I had virtually zero experience as a touring musician. I played at church, and I played the occasional gig around town, but I had come to his mind simply because he had gotten to know me around birthdays and holidays, and evidently I had tinkered enough on the family piano during said gatherings to let him know I could play.

At the time all this was transpiring, I was four years post-music degree from Belmont, and very much wanted to experience playing music on the road, but had no idea how to get there. I had been praying—that was about the extent of my strategy. My first job after graduating college was waiting tables at the Cheesecake Factory, and my time there came with some valuable lessons—humility, responsibility, and a set of life skills that seem to require hard work and experience to acquire. Still, more often than not, I spent the entire duration of my walk from the back door of the restaurant to the parking garage asking God to open the door for a full-time living in music.

After two years of waiting, I was hired by a friend to work as an in-house producer for her worship music. I ended up accumulating many other hats in the process—admin assistant, web developer, and customer support manager, to name a few—and this variety of roles came with its own set of lessons and challenges which I am still grateful for. But by the end of my time at that job, I was even more clear than I had ever been on what I wanted: to travel and play shows. Again, I just didn’t know how that opportunity would materialize or what I could do to nudge the universe along.

Now, it’s early 2015. Mitch was in town working with a band he was producing, and he reached out to me to get together for dinner. I don’t remember who brought it up first, but I do remember sharing the burning desire to tour, and when Mitch mentioned the potential opportunity to play with Matt Maher, it fanned the flame of that hope. He wasn’t sure of the path to get me there, but we agreed to keep talking about it.

Over the next few months, Mitch guided me through the process of recording audition videos, filling out questionnaires, inflating my social media profiles (truthfully, of course), building a guitar rig (so I could be a utility player if needed?), schmoozing at tour rehearsals (which terrified me, but I did it because I knew it had to be done), even getting my haircut a specific way by a specific hairdresser to increase my chances of “looking the part”. It was a lot of work, and it kind of made me doubt myself. After all, why couldn’t I just get hired to play because I’m a good musician? Regardless, despite feeling a little bit like a contestant on Extreme Makeover: Music Edition, I trusted Mitch and now the big day had arrived. Matt Maher had made a decision and I was about to find out if my life was about to change, or stay exactly the same.

So I answered Mitch: “Uh… the bad news, I guess.”

Honestly, at this point, I found myself tempering my expectations, trying to soften the blow of the inevitable letdown. I knew that I was up against 7 or 8 other “names in the hat”, and my assumption was that all of those names belonged to people with more touring experience than me. The whole world of music, artists, bands, and buses seemed so far away, so removed from my realm of possibility. I felt like I was missing some crucial piece of the puzzle that all these other folks had that enabled them to get out there and find work. It sure was nice of Mitch to try to champion me. What a good guy. But I was pretty sure I already knew the bad news. Don’t worry Mitch, I’ll try not to feel too let down. I wonder what the good news is…

“The bad news is, you’re gonna have to spend a lot more time around me in the very near future.”

I will never forget where I was at that moment, turning onto Highway 96 in downtown Franklin, when I instantaneously burst into tears and had to pull off the road. I’ll never forget the seismic emotional shock of how quickly and undeniably my reality had just shifted. A lifelong hope and dream that had seemed so unreal, so distant, almost fantasy-like in my mind, had just become so real, so believable, and so tangible. It’s happening. It’s really happening.

Fast forward nearly a decade, and here I am, still on a tour bus. I’m heading out to the first show of Spring tour with Michael W. Smith, who I’m honored to play for currently. Thinking back on this unforgettable day, I can’t help but feel so incredibly grateful for my mom and dad. I would never have even had the chance at this work had it not been for their constant support, encouragement, and sacrifice; for years and years of piano lessons, worship team, and school band; for sending me to music school in a town 2,500 miles away; for continuing to help me through the challenges life has dealt me along the way.

Speaking of challenges, my experience has been anything but smooth sailing. After three years of touring all around the world, I stepped down from Matt’s band to handle the fallout when my first marriage fell apart (another story for another day).For a little while, I thought my touring days might be over, so I posted up as a server and bartender at a Mexican restaurant to pay the bills. I took the next musical opportunity that came my way, which turned out to be essentially a scam: driving around in a rental van for 9 weeks without being paid a dime (again, another story). Legitimate work opportunities did find me again in 2019, including subbing back in for Matt, playing a fall tour with Sanctus Real, and taking a position with Jason Crabb. Shortly after that, though, we all know what happened: the world as we knew it screeched to a halt in 2020. The pandemic was brutal on the entire music industry, but live music took it especially hard as shows and entire tours were canceled and bands and crews were sidelined. (My pandemic experience, however, came with a very bright silver lining: meeting Katie. My time away from touring was spent getting to know this kind, courageous, and beautiful woman. We’ve now been married for three years and have one very curious and wonderful daughter, Cora.)

On the other side of the pandemic were a few fun and rewarding years playing country music with Sara Evans, followed by the opportunity of a lifetime with Michael W. Smith. This same music that I grew up listening to on the radio, which forms the soundtrack to multiple core memories, I now get to create for audiences around the world.

Looking back from the other side of a divorce and a pandemic, two major lessons emerge. First, that my life could change or completely come apart at any time. Second, even if that happens, I’ll be okay. Maybe change is the only constant, and I can never know for sure what the future looks like. But what I hope I’ve learned at this point is that whether life involves playing arenas, slinging margaritas, building custom Notion workspaces, or something totally different, it will be rich and full if I show up to each moment as it comes with gratitude and expectancy.

And, like I found on that phone call with Mitch ten years ago, sometimes the bad news really does turn out to be good news.