Folk Punk Dad was first up and mentioned how excited he was to be playing not only with his wife, but with his friends Chris and Myles.

“Today is the first day we are all in a room together,” he said. Each one had played with the other before, but never all three at once.

Parker came right out of the box with a song that invited everyone in and set the tone for the night.

“We’re all a little awkward, know that you’re welcomed here,” he sang. ​“No matter where you’re at, know that you belong.”

Many sang along with Parker, whose melodic and catchy songs dealt with serious subjects like mental illness and alcoholism, but in a way that made them highly relatable and even comforting. He said that he hoped his singing and talking about these subjects ​“lessened the stigma.”

“If you’re struggling, help is out there,” he said.

He encouraged those struggling to talk to someone; they could even DM him if they wanted to. He offered hope and even healing, in lyrics like ​“I could destroy a wall with a baseball bat, but I’d rather hug you.” It was hard to not smile throughout the set as many kept singing along and searched each other out for their shared connections.

…Will Parker, a.k.a. St. Augustine’s Day, a.k.a. Folk Punk Dad, closed out the evening with a set of songs that were raw, honest, vulnerable, and sometimes hilarious. Parker was unapologetic in his approach — ​“this is a very sad song about when I used to be sad, but now I’m not,” he said to introduce one number — tackling issues like mental illness, addiction, and dealing with the deaths of friends, sometimes all in the space of 30 seconds. He also proved to be a talented freestyler, as he elicited nouns from the audience before a certain song began. The audience gave him ​“revolution,” ​“toothbrush,” ​“cantaloupe,” ​“beef-fried rice,” and ​“Cafe Nine.” At breakneck speed, he worked all of them into verses that seemed composed on the spot.

He reveled in the successes of getting better (“give it up for therapy!” he shouted at the end of one song, to cheers) while acknowledging the difficulties. ​“Don’t tell me who I am,” he screamed into the microphone toward the end of his set. ​“And don’t tell me that I can / I would rather find out for myself.” Later, he sang that ​“they say the secret is self-control / but how do you do that / when you don’t have that / and you just want back your soul?” His experiences had led him to a place of real gentleness with himself and others. ​“You don’t have to hit bottom to start rising,” he sang. His openness felt like a gift.