Parker: New Face, New Obsession
LIVING IN 2023 MEANS LIVING WITH LITTLE — to no mystery. Everybody and everything is incredibly online, for better or worse. Entire movie synopses are leaked before their release date, McDonald’s workers post TikToks with the caption, “How the McRib is made,” and there seems to be a Netflix-exclusive documentary about everything and anything. Leaving daily aspects up to chance isn’t as commonplace nowadays, but I’m thankful to say that hidden treasures are still worth discovering. My story of meeting indie-pop singer-songwriter Parker firsthand is just the latest example of jumping into the fray.
A few weeks back, after receiving an out-of-the-blue LinkedIn message from a local publicist, Marcella Giuffrida, I confirmed, with little research on the artist, an invitation to Parker’s first headlining gig in Silver Lake, LA. Out in El Cid on LA’s Sunset Blvd, I dipped into the crowd and scoped out the restaurant-turned-club.
Mostly, there were tall white people with chiseled facial structures getting tattoos on the back patio. Though I’m comfortable going to events solo, my social anxiety tends to linger. There, I felt that squeeze of being the only Asian person in the room; I even contemplated leaving.
An old-fashioned later, I texted Giuffrida that I was there. She quickly found me. We chatted about the event, the venue, the performers, and the challenges of putting everything together. I empathized with the frantic event-planning energy and the familiar feeling of someone patting my shoulder every five minutes to put out a fire.
Parker and I were briefly introduced. Her winged liner was bold, and she had more facial piercings than I had ever seen, but her presence was polite and heartful, perhaps even a little nervous with her set time approaching.
The next opening act would soon start. Disco balls and chandeliers shaded El Cid’s intimate stage, usually reserved for flamenco dinner shows and drag performances. After a few songs, I snuck behind the velvet curtains enveloping the side entrances and returned to the patio. When the crowd spilled back outside, I once again ran into Parker. She only had a short moment but kindly suggested we get coffee whenever the time was right.
Despite the quick rendezvous, I instantly recognized Parker as a well-meaning and genuine individual. Her style and social media demeanor exude an angsty apathy and polished alt aesthetic, but in person, she is wholly pleasant and vivacious. With her performance looming, she was surprisingly calmer than expected.
With an ambivalent maximum occupancy of around 120 people, nearly 180 guests packed the theater to watch Parker. People of all ages were there: parents of the young ensemble on stage, friends, and fellow musicians. The tension and excitement was building.
Parker’s band rolled on stage, a fresh and nonchalant air about them. Their mismatched outfits endeared me: the guitarist adorning a white button-up and bolo tie, the bassist with a transparent floral T-shirt; everyone else dressed trendy but not necessarily coordinated.
Then there was Parker, who abruptly burst into the foreground wearing highlighter-pink shorts and an oversized Funkadelic graphic tee. The speedy arrival, combined with her baggy and bright fit, transformed her into an oscillating strobe light, as she moved back and forth like a neon lawn sprinkler.
Within the first few songs, the crowd was captivated. Parker’s command of an unfamiliar crowd was masterful; her melismatic vocals were raw and honest, and her performing persona hardly strayed from our earlier interactions.
Albeit only having a few original songs to perform, we were all transfixed. The baggy wear reminiscent of Billie Eilish’s style was with purpose, as Parker soon stripped to a glossy, sheer dress. Covers of “Bad Reputation” and “Benny & The Jets” activated the room’s energy like those middle school science diagrams where the particles bounce around their container when it gets hotter. During the set, the bolo-tie guitarist’s finger split open while strumming and he began strumming even harder, leaving his cream guitar sunburnt with bloody freckles by night’s end.
“That’s punk rock as fuck,” Parker said, satirically gesturing toward guitarist Quinn Smialek’s bloody appendage.
At this point, El Cid was electric and kinetic. I left the show thinking my prior naivety was possibly the best thing I could’ve had.
Within only a couple of years, Parker’s team found each other. Guitarists Smialek and Joey Cavallo — also Parker’s managers and producers — met one another while attending college in New York, before Smialek observed Parker singing in a park. Simultaneously, Cavallo began dating Giuffrida, who, along with Emily Henbest, the vice president of her PR agency, MGPR, quit their fashion PR agencies and founded their own.
The whole cast of characters — Parker included — moved to LA and hit the ground running. Not to mention, Parker’s team lives together like her personal close-quarters brain trust.
“Our whole process is just having people you enjoy working with,” Smialek explained. When rehearsals and managerial tasks require too much time, they will gladly send Parker’s songs to other producers. Smialek and Cavallo are musicians first, but sacrifice is necessary for the betterment of Parker’s music and career.
“There’s not a lot of ego [between us],” said Cavallo.
In an intimate cafe, Parker and I discussed her zigzag cross-country life growing up around Denver, enrolling in New York’s “very expensive” The New School, and leaving mid-enrollment to pursue a music career in LA.
“I don’t regret anything that’s ever happened to me,” said Parker.
The conversation spanned multiple phases, took many detours, and fell down plenty of rabbit holes. I spent one moment absorbing her undulating adoration for Rico Nasty, which pleasantly contrasted with her calm eloquence in describing one early theater experience playing “an evil narwhal.” Chaos is part of her aesthetic and background, but by no means tells the whole story.
“Not being myself makes me anxious,” Parker said. Though she is still fully figuring her sound out, her upcoming music has much “more intention” than what’s currently accessible on digital streaming platforms.
Parker’s next singles, “The Line,” dropping May 19, as well as another possible release in June, will illustrate her struggles of relationship “victim complex,” a new territory that unveils her vulnerabilities to new listeners and familiar witnesses alike.
Parker isn’t coming to terms with her faults, but diving into them head-on. With her trajectory and velocity, she may not be a mystery for much longer.
No one can predict what Parker’s future holds, but it’s clear that her and her rambunctious yet harmonious team, holds her future in their hands. Her emerging talent, radiant charisma, and songwriting prowess pave the path ahead. Wherever she wants to go, many will no doubt follow.
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