The Penny Candies

February, 2019.

I got a call from a BYU student who was working on her Senior Project. Man, I wish I could remember her name.

She told me she’d seen me perform at Velour Live Music Gallery’s open mic and would love for me to participate in a show featuring a ton of local talent. I was flattered, excited, nervous … the whole shebang. I immediately gave her a fervent “Yes.” The show was a mere two weeks away and would land right on my 30th birthday, and I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate!

As the call was ending she asked, “Will you be playing solo or with a band?”

Without hesitation, I replied “With!” And then, before I knew it, we’d hung up and I was left to process what I had just done.

WITH a band? What was I thinking? I don’t HAVE a band! I’ve never even played with other musicians! This is a catastrophe!

I panicked for .25 seconds and then determination replaced the terror.

“I’ve gotta find myself a band.”

Turns out, I knew some people. I knew people who knew people. So, I started making phone calls and sending text messages with a clear vision in mind. My dream ensemble included trumpet, upright bass, ukulele, and violin, with me on keys and/or guitar. Mingled with a plethora of killer harmonies, of course.

I called my cousin, Garon Brett. He told me to call Gavin McMahan. Gavin gave me four recommendations for trumpet players. I texted all of them.

One replied, “I’m busy that weekend, but you should try my friend, Joe.”

Joe was one that Gavin had suggested, too. So I waited.

Blast.

Joe was also booked. Joe sent me another list of trumpet players, the first of whom responded within minutes.

I gave him a brief introduction of who I was and why I was relevant (fake it till you make it, amiright?) and whatta you know, he was available! I told him I could send over some demos to see if it was a good fit and he basically said, “Don’t bother. I’m in.” And I thought to myself, “He doesn’t even know what he’s getting himself into!” And both a sense of impostor syndrome and gratitude filled me to the brim.

His name was Sam Evans.

Sam took a leap of faith with me. It fueled the fire.

Now, I needed a bassist. But not just any bassist. I needed… an upright bassist. My sources suggested I join a Facebook group and ask there, and once I did, all fingers pointed to one person and one person alone.

The Bass Princess. How badass is that!?

“She’s your gal,” they said. “Look no further.”

So I didn’t. I made the plunge and reached out, knowing full well she was a professional-hired-gun-diva and probably out of my league. But Kya Karine was my second “yes.” I was low-key dumbfounded. It was coming together.

I reached out to my friend, Emily Woods, and asked her to play violin with us. Another yes! What the heck. Why were all these people saying yes? Deep down I didn’t feel like I deserved it. At the same time, deep down I knew my songs deserved to be fully realized. And this was my chance.

I didn’t know any ukulele players other than my cute little niece, Eve Song. I roped her into it, as well, somehow. I sent everyone demos to practice with. We coordinated our schedules, set a practice date and…

Everyone showed up. At my house. They were all looking at me expectantly and I had no idea how to lead a bunch of musicians in a band rehearsal. But we muddled through. I muddled through, more like … They actually knew what they were doing. And they carried me. I remember gazing at them, my heart full.

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

After it was over and they had left, I half-expected them to abandon ship. But they didn’t. They showed up for the next practice. We made another last-minute addition, as well, with Everett Dalton on cajón. And then, it was time.

My impromptu band was onstage performing two of my songs in a crowded warehouse.

It was imperfect. It was nerve-wracking. It was magical. I remember walking away from it thinking,

“Why would I ever play solo again?”

As Kya was packing up, I told her half-jokingly, “I wish I could afford you.”

“When you get famous, I’m your gal.” Was her reply. Man, I appreciated that gesture.

What happened next changed me. It changed everything.

Before Sam left, he approached with his unmistakable Winnie-the-Pooh-like demeanor and asked happily,

“So, when’s our next practice?”

I had never planned on a “next” practice. I had never dreamed it could be an ongoing thing. Actually, I had dreamt it. A million times. But this wasn’t a dream. And Sam wasn’t joking. He wasn’t even half-joking. And I will forever be grateful to him for taking those first steps with me and encouraging me to continue.

And the rest is history. Sam showed up at my house again. This time he brought friends.

“I know this guy who plays upright…” Well, that was an understatement. Dylan Cox felt like the Chuck Norris of bassists.

“Oh, and my buddy, Jake Smith, can come jam with us, too…” says Sam.

You know, Jake. Just one of the most coveted drummers in Utah Valley, that’s all. No big deal. Jammin’ in my livin’ room.

And for some reason, they didn’t leave. They stayed. They all believed in me and trusted my vision. They were, and still are, endlessly patient with my limitations and so willing to make up for them with their own talents and strengths.

Along the way, we brought on Shannalee Baird, who was this adorable little elementary school music teacher that I saw every morning when I dropped my daughter off at school. I was so drawn to her. Somehow, I knew we’d be friends. I randomly decided to send her an email one day about playing ukulele in our band. I got another yes. I think we were both an answer to each other’s prayers.

And then I found Dallin (which is another story that everyone needs to hear), who was looking for a band to join and I was like, “Pick me! Pick me! We need a guitarist! And I’ve been looking for a stellar male vocalist!” Dallin asked if he could audition for the band and I outright laughed (anyone who has seen Dallin rip on the guitar might laugh, too) because I felt like I should be auditioning for him to join our band.

He showed up at our next practice. And he kept showing up. And he brought an energy and light that was infectious. And I wanted everyone to get so gosh-dang used to hearing us sing together that it would be weird hearing us sing with anyone else.

When Sam moved away, I felt like the heart of the band lost a piece. Then COVID rolled in and so much changed. Emily couldn’t commit to the band anymore. There wasn’t anywhere to perform with the world shutting down.

Amidst all of it, though, the heart kept beating.

It was no coincidence that a gal who played trumpet landed in two of my art classes at Utah Valley University. We became fast friends. It wasn’t long till Callie Stay was part of the band, too.

Then we recruited the lovely Annie Martineau to keep the beautiful melodies of the violin alive. Our vivaciousness meter just kept going up! And everyone brought their own unique flavor to the band.

It came as no surprise when Jake got too cool for us and moved to Nashville. I think it was a common topic of discussion at all our band practices …

“It’s just a matter of time before he’s outta here! We’ll just enjoy it while it lasts.”

And man, we did.

Sometimes, it feels like The Penny Candies is this living, breathing creature that kind of shapeshifts over time. But we’ve really grown into our own.

And all these people, my dearest friends and bandmates, they keep showing up for me. In all the stages.

And all I can say, from the bottom of my heart, is thank you.

Thank you for giving me a chance.

You’re like family to me, and I’ll love you guys forever.

And know what else is cool? We’ll forever be immortalized through these songs we’ve created together.

I hope they’re as much a part of you as they are of me.

Love from your gal,

Riah