As a musician, there's nothing quite like playing the room. Whether it's a grand stage, the back of a trailer on a downtown street, a cozy bar, a bustling restaurant, or a formal room brimming with tuxedos. Add to that list a hospital lobby and a historic church, and you’ve got the recipe for a few of the most memorable musical encounters I’ve had in recent times. This past summer was a whirlwind, and I’m grateful for the experiences—moments where I was able to share music with friends who are never afraid to push boundaries.
With Samantha Gray’s band, we roamed the open-air stages of Northeast Tennessee, Southwest Virginia, and Western North Carolina. Outdoor gigs became our playground, and somehow, we managed to dodge every downpour. But the real highlights? Those came in unexpected places, where the music seemed to flow through us as naturally as the breeze.
Johnson City Medical Center
My friend Carson Waugh is a creative force, the kind of guy who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. His energy? It’s infectious, and the man leaves a lasting impression wherever he goes. When he asked me—persistently, I might add—to play the Young Chang grand piano in the lobby of Johnson City Medical Center, it was impossible to refuse. I had all the excuses in the world after my injury on the New River Trail, but Carson’s enthusiasm won out.
I picked a Friday afternoon, a natural prelude to the weekend, the perfect moment to slip in and out before heading to the mountains for a brief getaway. The wind was whipping through the parking lot as I made my way inside, but stepping into the hospital lobby was like entering another world—a different rhythm, a quiet intensity that pulsed through the place. Carson was already gathering a small crowd, his role as Experience Director in full swing.
The piano felt good under my fingers, its mellow tone an invitation to slow down and breathe. I opened with Tears for Fears—something about the melody felt right for the moment. The music echoed gently through the space, and I moved through a mental set list of jazz and pop tunes, losing myself in the sound until I felt someone’s presence behind me. I turned to find Vanessa Bentley—her smile radiant, as always. It’s been a while since we’ve played together, and seeing her there reminded me how music connects us all in ways words can’t. I’ll be back to that piano, perhaps around the holidays, to add a little more harmony to that sacred space.
St. Thomas Episcopal Church, Abingdon, Virginia
When I got the call for this gig, I couldn’t help but joke about the possibility of the rafters shaking if I dared to step into St. Thomas Episcopal Church. It had been a minute since I’d walked through the doors of any church, but the invitation was intriguing. They wanted more diversity in their Sunday morning service, and Samantha and the band were just the ticket.
St. Thomas is a treasure of a church, nestled right down the street from the Barter Theatre, its signature red door and stone walls steeped in history. The architecture alone was enough to stop me in my tracks when I finally found my way to the sanctuary. The altar gleamed, the pipe organ stood like a giant ready to sing, and suddenly, I was reverent—not just for the place, but for the moment.
We kicked things off with an improvisation based on John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, letting the spirit of jazz guide us. The congregation responded with warmth, and as we moved through gospel classics like When the Saints Go Marching In and Just a Closer Walk with Thee, I couldn’t help but feel a connection—both to the music and to the generations of voices that had filled that church before us. My grandmother would have smiled to hear us channeling the soul of those songs, and in that sacred space, the music felt timeless.
Afterward, the lure of the Virginia Creeper Trail was too strong to resist. I slipped out of my suit in the parking lot, swapped it for biking gear, and hit the trail for one last ride before summer’s end. The transition from the spiritual to the physical felt seamless, like one long exhale after a fulfilling breath.
The Little Pink Dress Party - The Virginian
Of all the gigs, there’s something about a jazz trio that brings me to life. With John Grayson on drums and Charlie Aesque on bass, we’ve been honing our sound, working on improvisation and letting the music take us where it wants to go. The Little Pink Dress Party at the Virginian Golf Course felt like the perfect stage for it—a prestigious clubhouse, a sea of pink dresses, and the hum of an event with purpose.
This annual fundraiser is a spectacle, a vibrant celebration for the Cancer Society, and it’s always an honor to be part of something bigger than the music. The clubhouse glittered as the sun dipped behind the mountains, and we set up near the big bay window overlooking the first hole. As the ladies in pink settled in, we eased into the set, our rhythms blending with the soft clinking of glassware and the gentle sway of conversation.
We played a mix of new jazz numbers—Art Blakey and Herbie Hancock—and even threw in some yacht rockers for good measure. The laughter in the room rose and fell with the music, and as the evening unfolded, it felt like we were all part of the same song. By the end of the night, it wasn’t just about the notes we played, but the moments we shared.
I’m already looking forward to our next trio performance at the Kingsport Chamber Annual Dinner. It’s a different room, a different crowd, but the same joy in making music that connects us all.
Each of these performances left its own mark on me—a reminder that no matter where the music takes us, it’s the room, the people, and the moment that make it all worthwhile.