The first group was small: two high school students, an apprentice electrician, and a girl named Tessa who wrote lyrics in a notebook she wouldn’t let anyone touch.

They were nervous around the equipment, nervous around each other, and especially nervous when asked to play something original.

I recognized that fear.

Once, when I was sixteen, I’d practiced a song for three weeks before bringing it downstairs to show Dad.

He had asked whether I’d completed my math homework, and the song disappeared from the conversation.

I didn’t want to be the person who did that to somebody else.