story
In the wake of the success of Church of Great Rain, Greg figured a new chapter might be coming. What he didn’t expect was just how hard the page would turn.
Within a short stretch of time, his life unraveled. A bitter divorce cost him daily life with his young son; just two years old at the time. Not long after, his job at Microsoft disappeared as well. The ground shifted all at once. As Tom Petty once put it, “the future was wide open.”
Music, as it often does, became the way forward.
Around that time, Greg’s friend Barb Hindle invited him to join a new band she was putting together in Bellevue, Washington. The group rehearsed a handful of times, but something in the chemistry never quite clicked. Greg could feel it. The spark wasn’t there.
Barb had another idea: strip it down. Forget the five-piece band and build something simpler: a duo focused on crowd-pleasing covers from the ’80s and ’90s. It felt manageable, flexible, and a lot easier to get on stage.
But Greg had something else simmering beneath the surface. The upheaval of the past year, the divorce, the frustration with the family court system, and the ache of being away from his young son was pushing him back toward songwriting.
So the duo found a middle ground. Greg started writing songs and came up with the name "The RIF" (short for Reduction in Force).
Their sets delivered the familiar songs audiences loved, but between the covers, Greg’s original material began to emerge. They were songs shaped by loss, resilience, and the uneasy work of starting over. What grew out of that partnership was something more than a wine-bar setlist; it was a musical balancing act between nostalgia and reinvention.
For both musicians, it became a way to navigate life’s abrupt shifts, letting go of old expectations, gathering hard-earned wisdom, and building something new from whatever pieces were left.
Repertoire
Built for the warm glow of local wineries, boutique hotels, and dimly lit clubs, the duo’s setlist leaned into intimacy. The songs traced the emotional arc of love, heartbreak, renewal, and just enough rebellion to keep things honest.
Their repertoire moved easily between classics and modern folk-rock staples: Stevie Nicks’ “Landslide” and “Leather and Lace,” Don Henley’s bruised reflection “The Heart of the Matter,” Lady A’s late-night confession “Need You Now,” and the smoky push-and-pull of Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks’ “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around.” They dipped into the dark storytelling of the Decemberists’ “Down by the Water” and the atmospheric ache of the Wallflowers’ “6th Avenue Heartache.”
Threaded between those songs were Greg Parrott’s originals, mostly written in the same emotional key. They carried the same themes running through the set: love lost and rediscovered, the quiet work of healing, and the stubborn resilience it takes to keep moving forward.
