Pigeons Playing Ping Pong: Dawn A New Day

Pigeons Playing Ping Pong’s fan base, appropriately deemed “the Flock,” is the primary driving force behind the group’s successes and also the reason the band puts on the extravagant shows. Find cheap Pigeons Playing Ping Pong at Boulder Theater Tickets at Mark's Tickets. Mark's Tickets specialize in sold out Pigeons Playing Ping Pong at Boulder Theater Tickets and last minute Boulder Theater at Boulder tickets. Pigeons Playing Ping Pong began its first set of two with the happy song, “High as Five.” Listeners couldn’t help but smile in response to the grin plastered on Ormont’s face and his genuinely.

Photo by Dave DeCrescente

After “dreaming the big dream” for years, Pigeons Playing Ping Pong are now one of the fastest growing jambands of their generation. But just because this Maryland-bred quartet have jumped from college dorms to civic centers doesn’t mean they plan to abandon their trademark wackiness.

In 2014, after struggling as part-time musicians for five years, Pigeons Playing Ping Pong landed an opening slot for Karl Denson’s Tiny Universe at Washington D.C.’s beloved 9:30 Club. Pigeons were “dreaming the big dream” for some time, according to bassist Ben Carrey, but that gig, in particular, felt like a turning point. Even his parents came down to offer their support.

“After the show, I went up to my dad in the balcony and he was like, ‘Hey, you guys could really make a go at this!’” Carrey chuckles. “I was like, ‘Gee, thanks, Dad. I’ve been doing this for years, putting my heart and soul into it. Now you’re finally like, ‘Oh, this could work!’”

In time, that break snowballed into several other dream opportunities—from playing major festivals like Bonnaroo, Jam Cruise and LOCKN’ to jamming onstage with the likes of Umphrey’s McGee’s Jake Cinninger, moe.’s Al Schnier and The String Cheese Incident’s Kyle Hollingsworth. And by the end of the decade, the psych-funk quartet rang in 2020 by headlining the largest venue of their career, the 7,200-capacity Explore Asheville Arena in North Carolina.

As guitarist Jeremy Schon relaxes in an artist lounge on Jam Cruise this past January—hot on the heels of a packed late-night pool-deck set the evening prior—he’s well aware that he and cofounder Greg Ormont have made a significant leap from college musicians palling around the University of Maryland dorms to pseudo-CEOs of Pigeons Playing Ping Pong Incorporated. Now, there are dedicated crew members to support, a merch line to fill, a new album to promote and an annual festival to oversee. PPPP even have a charitable wing, the new Dawn A New Day Foundation, which allocates $1 from every ticket sold in 2020 to a variety of causes.

“We started this band with little in mind as to what could happen and where it could go,” the guitarist explains, brushing his long curls out of his face. “We were just having fun playing music and we still are. It has definitely far exceeded our expectations and blown us away.”

Drummer Alex “Gator” Petropulos was the last member of the group’s current lineup to join, replacing original time-keeper Dan Schwartz in 2015. (Schwartz left the music industry and now is in real estate.) He has the unique perspective of seeing the band’s rise from the inside and outside. “You could tell already that there was some momentum,” he recalls on Jam Cruise, admittedly fighting off some mild seasickness. “It wasn’t just a hobby for these guys— you could tell that they wanted to make it work as a full time thing.”

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In certain ways, Pigeons Playing Ping Pong have followed the classic jamband trajectory. The group’s founding members started gigging as college undergrads in 2007, releasing their debut album in 2010 and remaining on the road for much of the past decade. They arrived on the scene during a resurgence of tried-and-true improvisational rock music—spurred on by renewed interest from the Phish and Dead camps during the same period—and found themselves leap-frogging around the country with a new class of jamband revivalists like Twiddle, Spafford, Dopapod, Aqueous, Turkuaz and Goose, among others. From the start, PPPP were able to distinguish themselves, thanks to their humor and jovial onstage energy, which paired well with their technical prowess.

Like any other band on the rise, PPPP spent their early era booking their own gigs, loading their own gear into venues and dealing with finicky soundsystems. For years, they held down jobs at home while moonlighting as road warriors, playing up to 200 shows annually. Their concerts were grueling, 12-hour workdays and Ormont still has wrist issues from years of being his own roadie.

“I used to sell gym memberships, used to help people refinance their mortgages; I was doing a lot of sales,” Ormont recalls of the 9-to-5 days, his wild mane tied back neatly in a bun. “Eventually, we were touring so much that I got fired from my job because I was late and exhausted all the time. It seems like this stuff happens overnight, but we’ve been touring relentlessly for 10 years.”

Now, as they regularly move from coast to coast, PPPP have approximately half a dozen crew members to help lighten the load, and ensure that their fans get a consistent, fun, technicolor performance. However, there’s always work to be done. In addition to their club and theater dates and uniquely themed Halloween and New Year’s gigs, they’re constantly mulling over logistics for their Domefest music festival, an endeavor that takes nine-plus months of planning each year.

“While the crowds are starting to get bigger and the festival slots are getting bigger, we still feel like we’re doing the same thing we were years ago, which is playing our hearts out and having fun with it,” Ormont explains. “That’s the most important thing: As long as you’re giving it 100% and enjoying it, then it’s a beautiful thing.”

Of the four members, resident ringmaster Ormont has had the viral star turn. In August 2018, a photo circulated of famed Grateful Dead photographer Jay Blakesberg introducing Ormont to John Mayer, with Bob Weir standing idly in the background. Ormont gave Mayer a Pigeons Playing Ping Pong guitar pick, which the Dead & Company guitarist promptly used moments later while sharing the stage with Weir, Mickey Hart, Bill Kreutzmann, Cyril Neville, George Porter Jr., Zigaboo Modeliste, Ivan Neville, Tony Hall and Ian Neville.

However, in many ways, Ormont has been preparing for this level of onstage success his entire life. He was raised on Long Island with “wonderfully involved and supportive parents,” who encouraged his affinity for acting and singing.

“My parents were there when I was younger, doing plays and musicals, as I was starting to get a feel for what it’s like to be onstage and hear that applause,” Ormont reminisces. “When I was in a musical, we would do three shows in a weekend, and they would go to two or three of them every time. They’d see the same shows, the same music, the same lines and be like, ‘I think the energy was a little better at this show.’”

In contrast, Schon, a natural introvert, was a latecomer to the stage.

“I never thought I’d be a stage guy, ever,” he says shaking his head with a smile. “I was petrified of being onstage, petrified of being in public. But once I started playing guitar, it all changed. Slowly, I’ve become OK with being onstage, but I always need to have a guitar in my hand. If I had to give a speech or I had to sing without a guitar: Hell, no.”

Generally, during PPPP’s most frenzied musical moments, Schon doesn’t have a problem strutting to the foot of the stage to serve up a wailing guitar solo. But it is Ormont’s job to address the crowd directly. He’s even crafted his own zany, wide-eyed persona: Scrambled Greg.

Yet, as any artist dabbling in eccentricity knows, carrying that character offstage can be difficult. And for each member of the quartet, their rising status in live-music scene has led to some interesting fan interactions and questions about their own role in the greater jam ecosystem. Ormont has been known to wear hats or bandanas to obscure his identity when he’s walking around a music festival, and he admits that fans are sometimes surprised at his more reserved temperament.

“The highs wouldn’t be as high without the lows,” he affirms. “I don’t mean lows in a depression kind of way, but more like embracing the valleys before the peak. That contrast makes the shows even more exciting. It’s funny because, when people meet me, sometimes they think I’m completely off the wall. Sometimes I am, but sometimes I gotta live life and embrace those lulls and not be ‘onstage’ all the time. I even talked about this with my buddy, Andy Frasco, who also is completely nuts onstage. He was like, ‘You gotta just live your life. It can’t always be for them all the time.’

“I took that to heart, and I’m just gonna be myself. I love performing; it is my most favorite thing to do. I feel like it is what I was meant to do. It’s such a tremendous opportunity to be able to play music for a living—I’m not going to waste a single second of that opportunity. I’m going to give it my all and know, at the end of the day, that I did everything I could to make it a fun time. I try to bring a little brightness into the world and appreciate that peak.”

More than any other member, Carrey is known as the quartet’s ad hoc philosopher, just as likely to be in the corner reading his Kindle as he is mingling in the campgrounds with diehard fans— known lovingly as Flockers—at Domefest. He has aspirations to go back to college and study math, specifically to “solve the quantum theory of gravity,” and offers a Zen outlook on the group’s rise.

“I don’t see the separation that others create from fan or artist; I look at everyone as a co-creator,” he notes. “I think the rest of the band sees it that way too, but I’ve had more of a unique approach of really interacting with people because I’m not a group type of person. I love being part of the band, but I like to do my own thing. I like to meet new people and have the novelty of that.”

He compares his fan interactions to the Japanese martial art of Aikido, where you embrace and redirect the momentum of others, rather than fight it. “I use that energy to bring more people into the vibe and break down the barriers of the human psyche and ego,” he adds. “I truly see all creativity as one unit that has different points of perspective. I’m just offering one point of perspective, and I enjoy sharing that with others… When we’re in these microcosms of a music festival and everyone is recognizing you, it’s really cool and I’m really grateful for that, but I do feel like I’ve lost part of myself doing that. It’s nice to come home and go to the grocery store and just be a person.”

Schon—who had the savvy to create Domefest in college, and continues to mastermind much of the band’s audio/visual footprint—admits that their grassroots following was fundamental to their current success.

“We used to stay at people’s houses after shows when we couldn’t afford hotel rooms,” he professes. “We would meet our fans and we would get to know them better. They would be like our minions on the ground in those markets, helping spread the word and making sure the next show we did in that town was better. They helped us grow. Now, we can’t meet all the fans anymore because there are thousands and thousands of them. I still love meeting our fans and hearing their stories and what brought them to us but, at a festival, it is challenging because, if I talked to every fan, I would miss all the music. There is a delicate balance there.”

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As the members of Pigeons Playing Ping Pong are navigating their growth and new realities as full-time touring musicians, they are also actively promoting their fifth studio record, Presto. The album finds the quartet translating the raucous energy of a live performance in front of thousands of Flockers into bite-size tracks. A couple of the tunes have punctuated PPPP’s live setlists for years, like “Dawn a New Day” and “King Kong,” but Petropulos argues that there are other numbers that showcase a different side of the band.

“We’re a more jam-oriented live band, so it’s tough to capture that in tracks that aren’t necessarily 20 minutes,” the drummer argues. “It’s a test for us; we’re all super excited. I couldn’t be more excited about this record.”

“We had a really good time picking out the songs and hammering them out in the studio,” Schon adds. “Then I sat there and nitpicked my parts forever. [Laughs.]”

Clearly—with bigger venues and a brand new album—PPPP are entering a new era. These days, growth is the name of the game, and with over 23,000 fans in the band’s Facebook group “The Flock,” it’s undeniably difficult to please everybody: Some fans harken back to when Pigeons Playing Ping Pong would cover jamscene favorites like Phish (“Run Like an Antelope” was altered to “Bob Like a Pigeon”), while others yearn for the intimate, highenergy shows of yesteryear.

“The front row is a little farther than it used to be, but I always make an effort to look into people’s eyes, find their smile and just connect with the crowd as best I can,” Ormont explains. “It’s a special reminder of the human connection. Whether you’re talking with a person or not, you can still vibe and learn about each other from dancing and having fun.”

Lighting designer Manny Newman is particularly grateful for PPPP’s expansion—after all, bigger venues mean better light rigs, and an emphasis on large-scale visuals over onstage antics. “I remember when there were 30 people in the crowd,” Newman grins. “It’s still surreal to go into a room and be like, ‘Oh, there’s 3,500-4,000 people here? Cool!”’

Petropulos—who is known for his high-octane drum solos and ever-present basketball attire—sees the band’s horizon as ever-widening. Through their humble beginnings and subsequent rise, PPPP can never be knocked for a lack of effort. They play each show with the same top-tier enthusiasm, hitting every note and singing every lyric with an intensity that belies music’s too-coolfor-school contingent.

“I played sports growing up and I always compare it to that,” the drummer says. “We really just try to leave it all on the stage because we’re big music fans. We realize that, when people go to a show, they might not even get to see their favorite band once a year. We like to put ourselves in their position and say, ‘Hey, if we were going to see a band we love for two hours, we would want them to put it all out there.’”

“It’s not about, ‘We’ve come this far.’ It’s about, ‘We have so much farther to go,’” Carrey says, summing up the band’s current place in the live-music pantheon. “It’s very cool to be affirmed by others and to see the joy that we bring on a more massive level.”

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This article originally appeared in the March 2020 issue of Relix. For more features, interviews, album reviews and more subscribe below.