The 15 minutes leading up to Gavin DeGraw's arrival were filled with exasperated queries ("Where is that boy?" and "He should be here by now") from the bar's manager. Friends and devoted listeners began eyeing the front door and checking their watches at regular intervals when he slid in—almost unnoticed—and made straight for the piano with a leather-bound notebook tucked under his arm. He shot the shit with the audience while scribbling out a set list, as if the inspiration from one were driving the other, then made for a table to greet his parents, who usually show up for... More >>>